#especially now that river is tiny and scared and all alone

[tenderhooked]

Slow Foals I’m sooo excited for tbh🤪🥰

MEEEEEE TOO BESTIE ME FUCKIN TOO. I AM. UNDULY EXCITED ABOUT IT JSDKLFJSKLDJ. still trucking along in the first chapter but i'm having a Lot of fun with it so far :-) here's a short snip:

He glanced in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t that River was small for his age, exactly, only that he tended to fold in on himself as an adult and the effect was much more jarring when he didn’t have to pretend he was two heads smaller than he was. Least when he was grown, Lamb could rest assured that it was only a game he played. Sometimes it had even been funny. It wasn’t all that fucking funny anymore.  Beyond that, it was River, without a shadow of a doubt. Same tragic puppy dog eyes. Same eagerness to please, if the deferential manner with which he’d referred to Lamb back in Taverner’s office was any indication, although tempered now by a certain degree of what appeared to be genuine fear. Fear of what, Lamb couldn’t begin to guess at. Getting in trouble, probably, which really shouldn’t have been the kid’s main concern. Getting in trouble was a hobby for him. Lamb had already resigned himself to the fact. “And you don’t remember me, do you.” “No,” River said. His brow crinkled in what was apparently distress. “No, I—sorry, sir, I don’t.” “Crying shame,” said Lamb, turning back to the passenger window. It was a shame, if he was being honest. He didn’t know how to get under this River’s skin the way he did with the other one. It would take work to understand him now. “I’m a fucking delight.”

[sprixyn]

hello future us … or future me. (i hope not. i hope you aren't alone again.) i had some questions, i guess. you don't have to answer them, but… please, would you? i'd love to get a letter back. i'm so lonely right now.

do you have a cat? i hope we have a cat.

do you still have those dreams where you meet someone who finally understands, who makes you feel safe and trusted? and who you trust back? all the way, not just mostly. and it's not one of us, not just someone inside your head, not someone you can convince yourself isn't real. and you just feel safe.

and do you still wake up from them with tears streaming down your cheeks?

or the ones where they're still alive, where it was all just some kinda fucked up joke? or even the ones that tell you that we need to tell someone that we love them? or stop isolating ourselves so much?

and do you still spend the day after feeling like you're being held down by a hundred river stones?

do you still climb trees? and ask them things? and can you still hear their answers if you listen long enough?

did you make it out of here?

do you still flinch when someone touches you? especially from behind? or when a door slams, or something falls, or a voice is raised, i guess. do you still feel sick and frozen and helpless then?

do you still feel trapped in hugs? and do you still turn the door handle so slowly, and pull it open so gently, making sure the hinges don't make a sound?

do you still feel a pit in your stomach when you wake up sometimes? like some sort of black oozing ball of grief. a bit like the one inside that dragon from that movie that we really like.

do you still like playing in the rain? i like playing in the rain.

i like to go outside naked. they used to call it "nature's shower" and make jokes about how we needed a shower, since we didn't usually do it for ourselves.

do those kinds of jokes still hurt you a little bit? not enough to make a big fuss, or cry, or get angry like you wanted, since you knew it would just make them sad again. and you don't want to make them sad again.

just a little pang in your chest, y'know? do you still get those?

do you still make them sad a lot? the others keep telling me it's not my fault. but i know better. because it always has been, hasn't it?

…hasn't it?

are you better at saying "no"? even softly, and apologetically, because you know it might hurt them for you to care that much about yourself

do you still apologize too much? kind of just for existing or taking up space. you know the ones i'm talking about. it's annoying, you know. people won't take your actual apologies seriously if you do it too much. you should really stop that.

do you still let it all build up until it explodes in your face? because letting it out, even in tiny bits, hurts too much to bear. or it would hurt others. or maybe you just think it will? or… maybe. maybe you're just scared.

…do you still miss him?

i miss him so much. i hope you don't. it hurts like a motherfucker.

do you still shame yourself for loving the things you love and the way you love them?

do you still sing and play and draw all the time? i know you're probably pretty busy by now, but you should still take some time for it, y'know? it's kind of all that's keeping me here right now.

ha. i guess it's what's keeping you here, too, then. or why you even exist at all, if you do. holy shit, what if i'm talking to a ghost right now. or like… all my bereaved loved ones. or some kid 100 years from now, if the earth can still sustain human life.

uh… if that's the case, hi guys. sorry about all the melodrama in this one. please don't read it out at my funeral or something, that'd be sad. you should be listening to something fun and dancing instead. that's what i'd want.

i think i'm just gonna proceed assuming there's some kind of actual future me reading this. that was a weird side tangent.

do you have new friends? old friends? you should check in with some of them. i want to know how they're doing, too. …are they still around? i hope they're still around. at least for a decent amount of years. they deserve that.

do you still fight for what you think is right, even when it feels like the whole world is against you? are you still stubborn like that? i hope you didn't give up hope and become complacent like all the others. i hope you still think we can make things better, even just a little bit. even just by making stupid poems.

do you still cry in public, even though we got really good at hiding it? this is gonna be hypocritical, but you don't have to be embarrassed about that kind of stuff, you know. we're just a person. and a bit of a fucked up one at that.

do you… nevermind. this is getting too long. nobody's gonna read it if i write more, especially not you, knowing our attention span. ha. actually, did you un-fuck that up? that would be cool.

i know i'm pretty young. you don't have to listen to me. not a lot of people do. but maybe i have some wisdom to share, too, right?

people are always saying that, aren't they? "listen to your inner child".

would you please listen to me? please don't tune me out. i think you're the one person who's really supposed to listen and really might hear me

[saveamaxemilien]

an empty chair (at the brook)

An empty chair

Where once

A rose

With growing

petals sat

An empty gasp

Where once

A voice

Had begun to

fill the air

Scars still

sting from

thorny wounds

But a warmth had

come as well

Now all alone

not even the crackle

of the flames

you stoked with

broken chairs.

A year ago I wrote Follow The River to sit with the feelings I had on the second Mother's Day I spent away from my family, due to realizing how unhealthy our relationship was. My mum and I had been very close, so that disconnection - as needed as it was - hurt. Especially with constant attempts to either trick or scare me back into their tiny circle. I wrote about how I hoped one day my Mum would brave the rapids and "Follow The River" to a more peaceful place. One where we didn't continue a relationship by constantly finding something to fuel to flames.

Early this year my Mum sent a message devoid of any sort of manipulative language - just an "I love you." And I cautiously answered. And her reply was unlike any up to that point; she wanted to hear why I had done what I did, to "understand [my] heart." And when I cautiously answered, she listened. We opened a dialogue. It was. Good.

In this I found out she had been having some health problems. A couple weeks alter, she found out it was probably cancer. She said that she couldn't keep getting into the deep conversations we had been having, as they were stressful for her. And that she didn't want me to feel pressured to stay in contact if I couldn't keep the relationship active while speaking about these topics. Now, my family are rather conservative SDA Fundamentalists, so I hadn't mentioned I was trans up to this point. But as I had started medically transitioning about 2 months prior, I knew it was something I likely wouldn't be able to hide from their paranoia for long. So I told my Mum that I could still stay in contact, but that there was one thing I would need to tell her. I made it clear that it would probably be uncomfortable for her, but that it wasn't something I could keep to myself if I was to stay in contact. And she cautiously agreed to hearing it. So I told her that I was non-binary, and in the process of transitioning. And that I wasn't using my given name anymore.

Her response said. A lot. She spent most of it talking about how it didn't really surprise her, and that she would always love me no matter what. She only vaguely mentioned her religious opinion at the end, saying that I "knew how [she]" felt about it. While that hurt, I also couldn't help but notice how little attention she spent on it - that she cared and was uncomfortable with how her religious beliefs didn't fit with that.

A few weeks after, it was confirmed to be cancer, with a grim outlook. A few weeks later she was in emergency. The next few weeks was a roller coaster of health scares, before her eventual passing. The funeral was only a week later. I wrote a poem to read (not the one above) and was not able to do much more.

And I feel. Strange. I am sad for the life and possibilities that my mum lost. But I also don't. Feel all that sad. I had already grieved her while she was living, realizing I needed to emotionally detach myself from her. And in her last months, I got to see that she had grown as a person, and we were able to reconcile some. It wasn't perfect, but it felt like she saw me, and not the image that her trauma and religion had caused her to see instead of me for so long.

And it is now another Mother's Day. And again My mum is not here for it.

[roseofithaca]

A Very Special Delivery

(I couldn't contain the feels, so I had to write a fic. Sorry in advance!)

The sun seems brighter than usual as it begins to set over the western treeline. Bad men live in those forests, she knows, she's been warned ever since she could walk to never go off wandering beyond the fence alone. Sometimes she had nightmares about those men, especially after Jackie told her those silly ghost stories, and when Mama found out she chased him around the barn with a pitchfork for an hour. Looking at the treetops now, though, she doesn't feel afraid. Something tells her that she could finally go walking in that forest for hours on her own, picking the prettiest flowers and chasing the bunnies, and not a single man or beast could harm her.

She doesn't leave. Not yet. She sits on the step of the porch, bare feet swinging, soaking up the golden rays of the sun on her face after what felt like months in her little room. It's a warm afternoon, the kind Mama would usually tell her to wear a hat or hold a parasol to protect her pale skin, but she doesn't need that anymore. She stretches her tiny fingers in front of her, wiggling them about, imagining she's playing the sunbeams like keys on the piano. And somehow she manages to hear what music the light makes (much better than Mama's playing, not that she'd tell her that...Maybe just whisper to to Daddy in private).

A soft clapping of hooves in the distance interrupts her performance. A cooling shadow falls over her as she looks to see the silhouette of a man riding towards the house. This man is real tall, bigger than Pa, much bigger than the delivery men who sometimes come to collect the milk and eggs. They don’t usually come this late in the day either.

He could be one of the bad men from the Tall Trees. A monster from her brother’s stories come to steal her away. She’s all alone out here, which is odd, and no one would see if this man gobbled her up like the big bad wolf.

But that ain’t gonna happen. She knows that, as soon as she gets a look at the man’s face. Any tingle of fear is washed away by those eyes.

The man eases his horse to stop. A great big, beautiful mare with black spots and a chestnut mane that looks well brushed. Even the horse looks friendly; strong but friendly, just like her rider.

She gets to her feet, one hand on the wooden railing, as the man dismounts.

He takes off his hat; “Good evenin’, little lady.” He greets her, gruff but gallant, and she’s reminded of the knights from Jack’s other stories. She likes those ones a lot.

“Hi…” she squeaks, feeling oddly bashful; “Uhh, how d’you do?” She tries to be polite, as Ma would want her to be addressing a stranger.

He smiles and nods; “How d’you do. I hope I haven’t scared you.”

“You ain’t, mister.” She tells him, honestly, still clutching onto the wood with one hand. The man isn’t scary at all. Every bone in her body tells her that he wouldn’t hurt her.

There’s just something about him, about this moment, that’s got her feeling real strange. Like something important is about to happen and she doesn’t quite understand it, or know if she wants it. The world suddenly feels too large, when for all her life it’s mostly been this house and this ranch and the few trips she took beyond that fence, to the river or over the fields, only twice into the nearby town for a movie and an ice cream.

He gives a chuckle at her answer and takes a step closer; “I sure am glad to hear that for once.”

Her eyes glance to the object he’s holding to his chest.

“I know that hat! Pa keeps it above the fireplace!” She says with a point of her finger.

“That a fact?”

She nods; “Mmm hmm. The deer that Daddy killed wears it. I think it looks silly. Deers don’t wear hats! Only antlers!”

The man laughs again; “I guess that’s true, but it wouldn’t be the strangest thing I saw, I’ll tell you that.” He walks closer and places the hat on top of her long, dark hair; “Here. Why don’t you hold onto it for me, for a bit?”

The black leather falls over her eyes, it’s far too big for her. But she tips it back, holding the rim with both hands, looking up to give the man a smile. There’s a tiny wince in his face as he looks down at her and she worries, for a moment, that he’s about to cry. A sniff, then he’s back to beaming at her.

“Mind telling me your name, darlin’?” He asks.

She doesn’t see any harm in it; “Morgan. Miss. Morgan Abigail Marston.”

“Morgan Mar…” The man cringes, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath; “John, you sentimental little bastard.”

“Huh?”

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He brushes off.

“I get called Abby though. Pa only calls me Morgan if I’m in big trouble.”

The man snorts another laugh; “Yeah, that sounds more right. And how old are you, Miss. Abby? You mind if I call you Abby?”

She shrugs, not minding at all; “I’s three and a half this May.”

“Three and a half? You sure do talk clever for one so little.”

That’s true, she does. From the moment she learned to talk, she’s been a little chatterbox, as Uncle says. The grown ups would go from endeared to exasperated by her constant babbling. She knew what she was trying to say, but they rarely seemed to understand her, grown-ups were dumb like that. Jack seemed to know what she was saying more often, he’d share with her words that Ma and Pa didn’t seem to know, which only confused them more when she spoke. It’s only very recently that she had to be quiet, as talking made her very tired, her little chest so sore and heavy all the time.

“How old are you, Mister?”

“Take a guess.”

Abby looks from the spurs on his boots up to his sandy brown hair, then tilts her head.

“Sixty?”

“Sixty!” The man’s eyes widen, affronted; “I ain’t sixty, you little…!” he bites his lip and groans; “God damn Marstons. Your pa is older than me now and he ain’t sixty!”

Older than him now? That don’t sound right.

“You both very old! And I’m still learning my numbers!” She defends, crossing her arms.

That makes the visitor soften; “Okay, that’s fair. Math weren’t ever my biggest strength either. Writing was more my thing.” He takes seat on the step of the porch, beside her. Even sat down, he’s taller than her whole height.

Abby looks down at her toes; “I ain’t good at that either. My brother teaches me but…the letters get all jumbled around. Makes my eyes sore. I like to draw though.”

“Really? Me too.”

“I can draw better than Pa. He has this book he shows me, filled with all these pretty drawings of animals and weird places, but I know they were all done by someone else. I know ‘cause his drawings look like the ones I did when I was two!”

The man gives her a grin; “I don’t doubt it, Miss.”

Abby feels at ease enough to remove her hand from the banister, sitting back down beside the man, balancing his hat on her head. They sit in the most comfortable silence that she’s ever experienced, like she’s known this stranger for as long as she’s known Ma, Pa, Jack and Uncle. Like he’s always been there, which is funny and impossible, yet feels as true as the sun on her face. The sun that probably should have disappeared behind the horizon by now.

It's as if the whole world is playing her favourite game where they all pretend to be statues when Mama stops playing the piano. There are birds chirping, chickens clucking and cows mooing in the distance, but the sun refuses to budge from its serene position in the sky, and there isn’t another soul in sight to disturb them except for the man’s horse. Even Rufus is nowhere to be seen, though the last time she saw him was when he was curled up at the foot of her bed, giving her weak hand the occasional nudge with his wet nose.

“You ain’t told me your name, Mister.” She says after a while.

“Forgive me, sweetheart.” He sighs, “My name’s Arthur. I’m a…very old friend of your parents.”

“Arthur? Like King Arthur?”

The man doesn’t seem to like that, as he rolls his eyes; “Yeah, sure, like King Arthur. Except I’m anything but a king. I’m just…an ugly, dumb fool!”

She doesn’t think he’s ugly at all. In fact, he looks the same as she always pictured the King when Jack read those stories to her. Like a hero.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Arthur?”

“Oh, it’s just ‘Arthur’, miss. Or…if you want, you can call me ‘Uncle Arthur’, like your brother used to…But. O-only if you want to, of course.” Now he’s the one who’s gone all shy, a hint of color beneath the thick stubble on his cheeks.

“Uncle Arthur.” She gives it a try, then nods; “Okay!” That does sound right. Very right. She didn’t even know she had any Uncles…except for the one, who was more like a grandpa anyway. “Why you here, Uncle Arthur? Why ain’t I seen you before?”

He takes a sad breath; “I’ve been away for a very long time, Abby. And I’ve missed your ma and pa and brother terribly, but…Well. You’ll understand soon, why I haven’t been able to meet you till now. I’m very glad I have though…You’re the spitting image of your pa.”

“Aww, really?” Abby pouts, disappointed, wishing she looked more like Mama.

Uncle Arthur chuckles again, putting a large hand onto her back; “Now don’t worry, you’re much prettier than he ever was!”

Better than nothing, she supposes.

“Anyway…I came here ‘cause I was asked to make a delivery.” He explains.

“You here for the eggs? Or the milk? You ain’t here for Jack, are you? I asked baby Jesus to swap him for a sister instead but I weren’t serious-.”

“No, no, I ain’t here for them, sweet girl.” He rubs at her back; “…I’m here for you.”

A chill runs through her.

“Me…?”

Arthur nods, solemn, fingers clasping securely around her shoulder; “Your daddy…He asked me if I could come get you…and take you some place real nice, somewhere you’re gonna be very happy.”

She believes him. She trusts him.

But…

“Don’t they want me anymore?”

His mouth gapes like a fish, it would be funny if she wasn’t so ready to cry; “I…’Course they want you, sweetheart, they…They love you more than anything in this world!”

Abby sniffs, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, salt-water filling her eyes.

“I know they been real sad lately…” She tells him, voice breaking; “Mama’s so tired, I haven’t seen her sleep, she always sitting next to my bed. And Pa…He got so mad when the doctor came to visit me, I ain’t ever seen him that angry before. I didn’t understand what they were saying. Mama was crying, then so was Jack, even the dog started…”

“…But not you?”

She shakes her head; “I wanna cry, sometimes, but I can’t always. Mama said I’m the same as Daddy. He don’t like to cry either. We both have…’hot heads’, she says. I saw Daddy cry once though, when I woke up the other night, he was on his knees next to my bed. I think he was talking to Jesus, but I was too tired to listen…”

Arthur holds her a little closer into his side.

“You haven’t been feeling very well, have you Abby?” He asks, carefully.

She shakes her head. It had been so easy to forget. Forget the burning pain in her lungs. Forget the icy shivers wracking her tiny body. Forget the black shadows dancing on her walls as the fevers got worse. Forget how stiff and heavy her arms and legs felt.

“I’m all better now. See? I don’t cough anymore! I can breathe like I used to!” she takes a great theatrical inhale and exhale to demonstrate; “It feels really good!”

“I know, sweetheart.” Arthur smiles; “I remember…”

It hits her then. The truth. Without even needing the concept fully explained to her, she knows exactly what’s happened. The reason she feels so much ‘better’. The reason she’s out here all alone. The reason the world is playing musical statues.

The reason her Uncle Arthur has come to get her.

She takes a glance back at the house. The closed front door. The drawn curtains.

“…Can’t I say goodbye?”

Arthur gives her a squeeze; “You can, but…You can’t see them right now. It’s…a bit complicated, how it all works, but…”

“Okay,” she accepts, feeling the lump in her throat.

He pulls her close and she buries her face in his jacket, one little hand reaching around his middle. The tears fall now. Not big, loud sobs, 'cause she’s not a baby. She’s strong and brave like Mama and Aunt Sadie, who she’s never met but Jack tells her about. Of all the characters he’s introduced her to and let into her dreams, she’s her favorite.

Uncle Arthur’s thumb rubs circles into her arm; “We can sit here for as long as you want. And then, whenever you’re ready, we’ll go for a ride. Okay, darlin’?”

Abby nods, the tiniest whimper squeaking from her lips.

She doesn’t need long. There’s no need for her to pack. No tiny suitcase to stuff full of her clothes and pencils and crochet animals. Instinct tells her that, where they’re going, everything she wants will already be there waiting. Besides, she can come back and visit later, if she wants, as Arthur tells her. He says that he’s come to check in on them from time to time, even when she was born and long before then. It’s hard, he says, to be there and see them all, but not be seen back…But he did it. Many, many times. She thinks she will too.

For now though, Morgan Abigail Marston detaches herself from her uncles side once the tears have all dried. She picks herself up and brushes herself down, fingers smoothing against her dirty nightdress.

“Uhh…You sure you don’t wanna put on some clothes? Or shoes?”

Abby shrugs, “Nah, I’m good.”

Arthur snorts; “’Course you are. You’re your pa’s daughter, all right.”

He offers her his hand and she takes it, letting it swallow hers up. He leads her off the steps and towards his horse, who pads at the ground with her hoof.

“Miss. Abby, meet Boadicea. Boadicea, meet Miss. Abby Marston.” Arthur introduces them, patting Abby’s back; “You wanna pet her?”

She nods. Oh, yes! She eases closer, reaching her hand out as the mare dips her head for the child to stroke her mane. Her fingers run through the silky smooth locks of hair, just as soft as she imagined.

“I think she likes you, kid. She must think you’re special.”

Abby glances around the ranch.

“…Can’t I ride my pony?” She was getting so good before she got sick. Not quite ready to ride without still being tethered to Rachel and Daddy, but close.

“Aww, I’m sorry, Miss. Like Jack and your folks, I’m afraid she’s gotta stay here…”

“Oh…okay.” She has to accept that too.

There’s a soft neighing sound in the distance. Is that her pony, Belle, calling for her? Does she know that she’s going away?

Arthur scoops her up off the ground, holding her like she weighs less than a handful of straw.

“Now don’t you worry. There’s plenty of ponies for you to ride where we’re going…and more. You got a bunch of other aunts and uncles all excited to meet you…I’ll warn you now, your grandpa Hosea might squash you with all the hugs he’s got…And my little boy, Isaac, he’s around your age and can’t wait to play with you. Anything you want, anything you can imagine, it’ll be yours. And then one day…won’t even feel that long to wait…your ma and pa will come find us. Even Jack, eventually…But for now, you okay to ride on Boadicea with me? I know she’s bigger than you’re used to, but…You’ll always be safe with me. I promise.”

She nods. Once again, there’s not a flicker of doubt in his words.

She lets him place her at the front of his saddle. Her legs are far too shorts to reach any stirrups but she holds onto the leather seat as Arthur mounts up, swinging his leg over and then wrapping one arm tight around her front, his other taking the reins.

“That feel all right?” He checks with her, letting her shift so she’s comfy.

“Mmm hmm,” she nods, “…I feel so tall!”

“Yeah, you are. Tallest lady in America, you are, Abby Marston.” He teases, fixing his hat on her before it can fall off; “…You ready to go?”

She takes another look at the house. Her home. Her…life.

“…Bye Mama. Bye Pa. Bye Jackie…Look after them for me…And Rufus, look after Jack…” she whispers to the house. Then she takes a deep breath; “…Okay. I’m ready, Uncle Arthur.”

A click of his tongue, a gentle tug on the reins.

“As you wish, my lady. Let's get you home.”

[ayamturd]

afraid│nihachu

summary: you wanted to explore the world above, and niki thought it best to bring the trinkets of the world to you 

warnings: none, only fluff

pairing: (requested) in-game origins!niki

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write, i’ve honestly been in the strongest angst mood lately but hopefully did justice to your request! (this was so cute as an idea)

also thank you for my first origin! request, ik the hype has faded at this point but this was still so fun to write and explore :)

wc: (3.1k) - m.list

“You’re staring again.”

“AHHH!” Whipping around, Niki gaped at Wilbur, his amused grin meeting her wide-eyed shock as she placed a hand to her heart, exhaling deep breaths to collect herself. 

He was phased through the ground, his neck barely peaking out of the soil until he fully emerged, his body transparent as the sun gleamed through him. 

She lifted her head, craning to see whether you noticed the both of them or not from behind the river bend, and smacked Wilbur as hard as she could once realizing they were in the clear. 

“What was that for,” Wilbur whined, pouting and simultaneously rubbing his now sore arm. Despite fuming, Niki’s deep glare barely fazed him as he began cackling at how upset she looked.

“Wilbur,” Niki spat out. He paid no attention to her tone and held his stomach in laughter, floating slightly above her. “Oh lighten up, will you?” 

He propped his face on his hands, smirking while looking down at her with a teasing voice. “It’s cute.”

She huffed in response, turning away from him with her arms crossed. “Shut up.”

“Awwww Niki,” he cooed. She refused to meet his eyes and stared down, swishing her tail in the water as it reflected on the afternoon sun.

“What do you want?” Wilbur groaned at her lack of play but leaned on his back, tilting his head backwards to see her as he hovered. “You really are no fun.”

As she turned to glare at him again, he giggled but continued to speak. “When are you finally going to talk to them?”

Sputtering at his question, Niki became flustered and tried to argue back, but she struggled with her words. “I do talk to them!”

He gave her a deadpan expression, a look of judgement from her defense as she furrowed her eyebrows in response. “I do!”

Sighing dramatically, Wilbur paid no attention to her pathetic excuse with a smile. His lack of retention angered Niki more. “Wilbur!”

“You are so whipped Niki, it’s adorable.” 

Niki pushed herself up and strived to hit him again, though Wilbur was fast enough and raised just out of her reach. Sitting on the bank with her tail still dipped in the water, she grumbled at his antics once more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmm, is that so?”

Niki paused, unsure if it was that obvious for him to point it out in such a manner. She became insecure to the thought, afraid that her small advancements were really that noticeable despite getting her nowhere. Her sudden silence made Wilbur’s smile fade, and he quickly picked up on her self-doubt.

“Don’t do that.” His tone was harshly blunt and broke Niki’s train of thought. 

“Do what,” she asked meekly. Glancing up at him through her hair, she looked back down into her lap before turning her head in the direction you were last. 

“Be afraid of the truth,” Wilbur stated. Floating down, he met her eye level and peered up at her. His expression, while serious, held a kind smile to encourage her of the fact while his eyes were soft. “You like them, Niki, and you shouldn’t be afraid of saying it.”

She sighed and tried to turn away, but he wasn’t having it and pulled her chin back gently. “Niki.”

“I know, I know.” Niki shook his hand off, shaking her head slightly and pushing his hand away while moving to hold her own arms, the makeshift hug a form of comfort to the idea. “I just- I’ve never had feelings like this like I do for them. It’s all so new.”

“And I understand that, but you shouldn’t be afraid to face something new. This of all things especially. You like them right?”

Although she was hesitant to admit so, she knew that it was true. It was beyond the truth for you made her smile and laugh like no one ever had, your small conversations and light banter always brightening her day and filling her heart with joy. She wasn’t scared to say she liked you, she was scared of saying it out loud and letting reality take its course.

“I do,” she murmured, a small nod following after. “I like them, yes.”

“They make you happy?” Another pause, but she responded more confidently in the smaller time frame than before.

“They do.”

“Then you should find ways to make them happy too!” Wilbur exclaimed. He rose his arms widely and grew excited from her admittance. Floating towards the grass again, he plucked a small flower from the ground and twirled it between his fingers, handing it to Niki after. “Show them how they make you feel because they matter to you and you care.”

“Well how am I supposed to do that?”

“Do what?” 

For the second time that day, Niki whirled around and was surprised to see you innocently swimming above the water surface. She was panicked, eyes wide, and turned to look at Wilbur, who coincidently was gone. The bitch.

She faced you again, smile anxiously forced wide as she greeted you.

“Y/n!” You smiled kindly to her, unobservant to her nervousness.

“Hello, Niki!” You swam closer to her and rested an arm against the shore line, your other hand placed on her tail. Her breathing hitched at the small contact, and she relaxed once you began rubbing her scales lightly.

“I saw you talking to Wilbur, how is he?” Glancing back to where he previous floated, Niki scowled in annoyance at the reminder of his sudden departure. 

“Fine, I’m sure. Still annoying when he wants to be.” She mumbled the last words, a frown briefly hung on her lips. You giggled helplessly to her small pout with a hand covering your mouth. While obscured by your hand, Niki practically melted from the sound.

“How are you?” you asked after finishing your small fit. Niki blushed uncontrollably from how intense your eyes looked, the light of the sun catching on the hues of your iris; the sight alone was beautiful to her. 

“I- I’m alright, I’m great.” Always around you.

“That’s good, I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” Concerned over the matter of fact, you leaned closer to Niki and absentmindedly stroked her tail again with your thumb, the movement endearing yet almost unconscious. “I was concerned something happened.”

Coughing slightly to gather herself, Niki cleared her throat from her flush while waving a hand upward. 

“O-oh, no everything’s okay. I was helping Wilbur with his house yesterday, he was trying to finish the living space but Tommy and Tubbo kept messing things up. Now that I think of it, I was more of a mediator than actual help.”

Chuckling loudly to her engrossed ranting, you interrupted Niki’s explanation and had to hunch over in pain, arms wrapped around your waist while you tail flicked hastily below. 

You laughter was contagious, and soon Niki joined in with her own, the sound fading into faint snickering that melded together in an alluring symphony. 

Eventually as you both stopped, however, your smile dimmed. Niki’s fell as well once noticing your sudden drop in mood, and she tapped your shoulders from the unexpected shift. 

“Y/n?” Niki slid into the water, the cold temperature difference from staying above making her shiver, yet she paid no mind to it, her attention solely on you. “What’s wrong?”

Realizing you let your thoughts show, you tried to pretend nothing happened, smiling dismissively to your previous frown and placing a hand on Niki’s that she held on your shoulder. Your attempts, unfortunately, were futile since your reassurance barely covered for the lack of joy in your eyes. That, and the fact that Niki could read more than you thought.

“It’s nothing really, I’m-” a humorless laughed escaped you as you aimed to convey your feelings. “I’m honestly so jealous of you.”

Niki’s mouth feel agape in disbelief and confusion. “Me?”

Tilting your head back with genuine laughter, you nodded. “Yes, you.” 

“I’ve never been able to see the things landers make or do, it’s so intriguing to hear about. I just can’t help but want to see those things beyond this tiny pond.” While you had turned to face Niki, your eyes were trained downward, with a disheartened smile. 

Niki immediately tried to cheer you up, hating the idea of anything trivial upsetting you overall. “I could introduce you to my friends if you like? They’re very nice people, no matter how chaotic I make them sound.” It was her turn to be affectionate as she brushed her hand over yours while your tails nearly wrapped around each other.

You gave another sad smile at her attempt, but appreciated her efforts nonetheless. “That’s really sweet, Niki, but I wouldn’t want to meet and burden them simply because of my own ambitions.”

Clinging onto the tips of her fingers, you squeezed them in reassurance. “Thank you, though. Ever the thoughtful you are, huh?”

Despite still hung over your downplayed emotions, Niki reddened from your words. As you looked above Niki at a flock of birds that flew overhead, she was suddenly faced with an idea. 

Formulating a plan and envisioning the hopeful outcome, Niki squealed unexpectedly, surprising you. She had no time to apologize, however, for her thoughts were running wild in anticipation. “I’m so sorry, but I actually need to go,” she voiced. 

You tried to answer, but through Niki’s blind eagerness, she didn’t hear you. She promptly pushed the fresh flower in your hand in replacement of her own, and wished you a farewell before diving into the water. 

With a scratch to your head, you lightly chuckled at how cute she was and lifted the flower up. Staring at the little tulip, you beamed and brought it towards your nose, smelling the aroma and kissing the petals softly. 

Waiting impatiently, Niki fiddled with the wet rope of the drawstring pouch. The moon was at high rise, the overcasting ray highlighting the empty landscape as all were asleep or safely tucked home. 

The air buzzed from the still night, yet Niki couldn’t help but feel unease despite the calm space. Before she could drive herself mad, you finally emerged from the dark water. 

“Good evening to you, Niki,” you joked. Swimming swiftly over to her, you glanced around the both of you and also noted the quiet. “It’s a gorgeous time to be awake.”

Although your words could have been interpreted as sarcastic, you meant anything but with a dazed tone and delighted appearance. Meeting her smile with your own, you spun in the water, taking in the cool breeze while lost in the starry night. 

“Not that I don’t love our hang outs, but why so late Niki? If you wanted to go star gazing, you could have said.” 

She laughed nervously, tugging on the small pouch in habit before holding it out to you. “No, actually, I- I wanted to give you this.”

Intrigued, you lifted the bag from her hands and held it against you as you opened it, letting out a gasp from the treasures all tucked together. Niki thought it best to explain herself. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to burden the idea, but I couldn’t help it and wanted for you to experience those things too, even if it’s only little things.” Gesturing to the bag you held, she pointed to the contents inside despite you lost to the beauty each item held. 

“I asked my friends to help gather things I thought you would enjoy. They’re not the most extravagant, but they all have their special charms.” 

“Niki…” Your voice was airy, barely above a whisper as you tried to comprehend her thoughtfulness. Too anxious for her own good, Niki continued to ramble.

“My friend Tommy, you know Tommy, he managed to trade for this dagger! The hilt has this small ruby in it if you look closely, but I like to think the whole craftsmanship of it is gorgeous. Oh and he also dumped in these things they use to eat! See this one here,” she dug in the open pouch for the metal utensils, lifting them individually to name them from what she was taught. 

“This one is called a ‘spoon,’ while this one is called a ‘fork.’ It’s pointy but isn’t sharp!”

“Niki-” She paid no mind to you and replaced the bag in your hands with the metal objects, her excitement overtaking her apprehension and wanting to explain them all.

“Now Phil, he gifted this lovely pocket watch. It tells the time without needing the sun! If you listen closely, you can hear this ticking noise from the gears that make it work, see?” She pushed the glowing locket near your ear, the soft mechanics working perfectly in motion. 

“He also enchanted it so the water won’t hurt it, water usually isn’t the best for their types of machines.” Niki handed you the watch carefully as she continued to talk. “He’s an Elytrian too! Very kind and wise, incredibly considerate.”

“That’s amazing, Niki, bu-”

“Ah, look at this!” Struggling to pull the wooden figurine out through the pouch opening, she yanked it out with a grunt, a smile quickly forming at its shape.

“It’s a duck! Tubbo is so cute and carved him himself, but wanted you to have him!” Holding him out, you grasped the smooth carving firmly with a grin, the animal admittedly adorable despite it’s oddly shaped body. “His name is Benson,” Niki exclaimed proudly.

You giggled fondly, patting the inanimate duck with your hands in spite how full they were. “Hello, Benson.”

“Oh and Ranboo!” Niki cried out. As she searched for his gift, you decided it best to interrupt. Or at least try to. 

“Niki, before that, I-” She began to mutter under her breath, frustrated with pulling his object out and distracted to your attempts.

“Niki.” 

“How did he even put this in here? It’s so bi-”

“Niki, love.”

Freezing from the endearment, she glanced at you with a sheepish smile. Although your adoring grin said otherwise, Niki was overwhelmed at the thought that she offended you some how. Before she could spew out apologies, you saw her slight panicked and acted quickly. 

Cradling all the gifts with one hand, you pulled her forward and kissed her, your hand holding her gently while caressing her cheek. She hummed out a sound of surprise, the noise muffled against your lips. 

While she was frozen for a few seconds, once the realization passed she relaxed completely from your touch, pulling you closer if it were humanely possible.  

All you both could feel was each other, the warmth that spread throughout your bodies a releasing high that drove passion and unenforced love free. You could have stayed there forever, you felt, just taking Niki in for all that she was, but chose to pull away; you wanted to see her.

Panting from the huge surge of emotions that passed, you both gazed into each other’s eyes in a mix of shock and intimacy never before shared or expressed.

Grabbing her hand, you lifted it to your mouth and pressed your lips firmly to her knuckles. “Thank you, Niki. You’re more than I could ever ask for.”

Unlike her past encounters, Niki didn’t turn away. She embraced your tenderness and accepted the burning warmth that encapsulated her for what it was and finally presented. 

She had nothing to hide anymore. She had nothing to fear anymore.

Bonus:

“Wait, what else do you have in the bag?”

You were both sprawled onto a large boulder, the rock perched slightly above the water surface in the middle of the lake. Considering the chill of the night and the cool touch of the stone, you were embraced in each other’s hold, arms strung together with hands intertwined. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Sitting up right, Niki pulled out all the objects in a pile and separated the ones you already saw in comparison to the others. She picked each one up as she explained. 

“This is called a tea kettle! I mentioned him before, but Ranboo found it while… digging (she didn’t know how to kindly say playing with dirt). It’s old but called an ‘antique’ because it’s rare!” Handing you the small pot, your finger grazed against the rusted metal in fascination of the discoloring and ancient beauty.

“Now these are sulfur crystals! Jack is from the nether so he collects a lot of them when he finds pure ones.” Lifting one towards the sky, you awed at the color that shined through it, the yellow hue soft yet vibrant under the moonlight glow. Reaching for one gently, you peered through the flat crystal with a giggle.

“They sometimes can smell really bad he said, but as long as we don’t mix it with other things like potions, we should be alright.” You hummed while still gazing through the clear solid. 

Enamored with the crystals, your attention was drawn back to Niki when you heard something chime. 

“I’m not sure why Wilbur thought it would be a good idea to gift these to us, but he thought it best to give us these things called jingle bells.” Shaking them once more, you were delighted to find they had a joyful-like sound, the light ringing noise something magnificent that you’ve never heard before underwater.

You played with them once Niki gave them to you, your smile wide from the new discovery and breathless to the music it sang. 

“Oh I didn’t realize he put one in.” 

“Who?” you asked, your eyes still on the small metal balls that reflected the moon in combination to the water surface. 

Niki sighed before stating with a smile, “Fragrance Man.”

You paused at the name, and turned towards her confused. “Fragrance Man?”

Nodding softly with an amused chuckle, Niki revealed the final item to you. It was a glass bottle, one typically used for potions, but held strange bundles all tied individually. 

“I think from the last time he showed me that these are called ‘sage bundles.’ You’re supposed to burn them for a stronger smell, but he might have put it in here since that last time I saw his collection, I liked smelling it from the bottle.”

Holding it out towards you, Niki uncapped the cork top for you to try. You leaned over and hovered your nose over the open neck, exhaling in captivation from the floral foliage and cooling sensation it brought. 

“Wow, Niki. This is all so amazing!” You had little to say to the collection of trinkets she assembled for you, still speechless to the effort she went through for you. 

“You’re friends sound so nice and thoughtful,” you hummed, reaching for her hand again and interlacing your fingers together.

Niki snorted at the thought but accepted your hand nonetheless. 

“They’re okay sometimes.”

[oftenderweapons]

Illicit Affairs — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 11.2k

Genre: Smut. A tiny little bit of angst and fluff too but. Smut.

Rating: 18+

Hi bumblebees! Thank you for staying with me so far and for being so kind with hey works and my continuously shifting schedule.

Quick plot! Hoseok and Giggles have just met: Giggles was the substitute for Mickey’s vet and she helped the doggo and Hoseok during an emergency, however the hour they spent together was enough for Hoseok to develop a quite intense crush for the young woman. He decides he wants to invite her to a date and picks his apartment as the location, going out of his way to try to impress her. However, the elegant dinner miserably crashes once his poor nerves abandon him. Fortunately, Giggles can take the reins, but is also willing to give them up at the right moment.

Special thanks to beta extraordinaire, @hobiandsprite​ I really love you. Please, don’t be sad and let those giggles out every now and then.

Moving on to The Big Stuff.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing. Basic BDSM training, Sir!Hoseok x sub!reader; safe sex, briefest mentions of masturbation (male and female), grinding, humping, making out, lots of tongue action, food play (and very messy one at it), cum play, cum eating, mild choking kink, one (1) breast slap, mild fetishism (panties, perfume/smells). Hoseok is overall very controlling, especially while he’s giving her basic training. There’s some sort of exhibitionism (if you like,,,, squint). Also Hoseok is a neurotic mess, Giggles is also quite tense and both like each other a lot, which leads to a few moments of weakness here and there. Mentions of vet emergency (don’t worry, Mickey is doing alright, he was just suffering from the hot temperatures).

Here you can check my full masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Jung Hoseok was nervous.

He was tense, palms sweating, nape drenched in perspiration.

He was a ball of nerves and he had never felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever since his first performance in the U.S.

Not like the day of their debut, but close.

And all of this for a stupid date.

He just wanted to know you, see if the image he had built of you actually corresponded with your actual personality.

He cracked his neck and shoulders, pacing back and forth, wondering if it were a good idea having you at his place.

After all, you were Mickey’s vet. He could be safe with you, right? You wouldn’t expose him now, would you?

It was the first time he ever brought someone in his home and he was way too nervous to feel comfortable.

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Jung. Hoseok. I don’t even know why I picked up this call. Why aren’t you getting prepped and polished for your date?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet and gravelly from the other side. It was seven pm, he shouldn’t have been sleeping, Hoseok mused, shaking his head once he realised Yoongi was spending the weekend with Kitten and the two had probably been dozing off on the sofa all afternoon.

“I think I fucked up. I like this apartment, I can’t jeopardise my home.” He panicked, finally losing his cool.

Yoongi inhaled and groaned as he stood up, leaving Kitten alone to rest undisturbed. “She seems a kind person. A smart one too. Just talk to her.”

“You know I suck at talking!” Hoseok whined, combing his hair off his forehead. “I don’t know why I want to impress her so bad.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you have a crush on her.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Hoseok protested, sitting on the sofa for a second before standing up again.

“That’s the key ingredient of a crush. Once you start getting to know her, you either grow out of it or fall in love.”

Hoseok cocked his head and toyed with his earlobe nervously. “Do you think she’ll like me? I mean, she looks so sweet, and so innocent and I can’t even imagine her being into—”

“Don’t judge. Strange fits sometimes work. Think Jimin and Princess. Seokjin hyung and Angel. They work. Strange, I know, but they do.”

Hoseok exhaled.

“Stop pacing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. First date is always a bumpy road. Maybe you’ll find out she’s not your thing and all these worries will be gone by the end of the night.”

“What if I like her and she doesn’t like me?”

Yoongi softened. “It’s all part of the game, Hobah.”

Hoseok nodded. “I have to go see if the chef needs help.”

Yoongi grinned. His friend was really going out of his way. Once, all he wanted were hotel rooms and quiet, curvy brunettes with so many sins they had officially given up on heaven at least a lifetime ago. “No matter how it goes, I’m sure you’ll find someone right for you.”

Hoseok nodded curtly before realising his friend couldn’t see his reply. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Sweep her off her feet, Casanova.”

With a bubbly laugh, Hoseok interrupted the call, headed to the private kitchenette. “Can I help you in any way?” Hoseok asked, still keeping his hands on his stomach, trying not to touch anything that could possibly cause a disaster — which considering the setting and his poor cooking skills meant everything.

“It’s okay. I can take care of everything. Don’t worry. Relax.” The chef almost wanted to take a second to pat the younger man’s back. He was probably six years his senior but the stress of a first date was timeless.

And the poor guy was sweating disastrously.

“Okay, then I’ll go check the table.” Hoseok murmured.

“Already settled. And the cake  is waiting in the fridge. It’s still too hot for it.” The chef replied as he turned off the stove since the sauce for the noodles had reached perfect texture. “Maybe a small glass of soju could help?”

Hoseok shook his hands in panic. “Oh, no. That would make it all worse. Why is it so hot in here!”

He walked away from the kitchen, once more staring at the table near the wide floor to ceiling windows. The view would soon turn stunning, the Han river running like a pitch black road, cutting the city in two, Itaewon lighting up in the distance and emerging like a glowing mirage against the night sky.

What if she’s scared of heights?

He banged his head against the wall, pacing again, texting the group chat.

HS: “What if she suffers from vertigo?”

SJ: “You didn’t place the table by the window, did you?”

Hoseok tugged at his hair, undoing a button on his shirt. Why was everything so fucking hot?!

HS: “Should I move it? I have ten minutes! I can move it.”

TH: “Don’t. You can place her with her back to the window if she feels uncomfortable.”

JK: “You’re such a loser, hyung. Relax, it will work out.”

HS: “DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX YOU UNGRATEFUL RASCAL”

JM: “Okay, let’s calm down. Personally I would feel even worse with my back to the window. You can move to the coffee table. It will feel more informal and you will FINALLY GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS,

JM: “she probably just wants to chat over fried chicken while you’re going to make her uncomfortable with all that finesse.”

NJ: “Gotta agree with Jimin on this one. She’ll simply want to chat. You’ll want to chat and get to know her.”

YG: “I told you it will be alright now stop spamming.”

HS: “AND I SUCK AT CHATTING”

JK: “yeah, you kinda ramble”

JM: “not helping Guk.”

The doorbell rang.

Fuck.

He pocketed his phone and headed to the door. “Yes?”

“Uhm… It’s confusing here, I think you need to pick me up.” You said anxiously over the intercom.

“I’m coming. Wait in the foyer.” He slipped on his shoes and got in the elevator, cracking all the joints of his fingers as it descended, going through the process again once he had cracked them all. He dumbly wished he had more fingers.

The door opened and there you stood with your back to him, your shoulders covered by a messy tumble of hair.

“Hello?” He called, making you turn around immediately.

His stomach turned upside down when you hit him with your sweetest, most radiant smile as you faced him. “Hi!”

He felt dumbstruck. You looked adorable, way too pretty for him. Way too incredible for anyone in the universe. “Hello.” He repeated, feeling a nervous smile constrict his face.

It almost looked like a grimace. For a second you thought you had somehow disappointed him. Maybe your dress was too informal? Were you too underdressed?

Staring at his outfit, you realised you were.

“You look very handsome.” You flattened your dress nervously, aware of every movement you made, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you.” He emitted the most neurotic laugh. Pull yourself together, Jung Hoseok, he innerly scolded himself before gesturing to the lift. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your glee completely lost. Staring at your dumb flats, you approached the opening doors and entered, Hoseok following suit.

You both stayed silent for a couple floors. “How was your day?” You managed to find the guts to ask.

“Uhm… Okay, I guess? My family came to pick Mickey up the other day so it’s been very quiet and a bit lonely.” He smiled but he looked sad.

You nodded. “Pets really change the whole feeling of home.”

He noticed you pressing your hands together before your lap, tucking your elbows against your sides as you tried to shrink yourself enough to disappear. You knew you should have bought a nice dress for this. You cursed your childish tastes and your sweet saffron dress, too demure and cheap for him. You had maybe spent 30,000 won on it, probably the equivalent of his shoelaces.

Screw that — obviously even his shoelaces cost more than that.

You started sucking at your lips, frowning at yourself for messing up your lipgloss. Out of nerves, you started twisting slightly side to side, your dress moving slightly with the motion, your eyes still focused on your shoes.

He was intimidating. Why in the world did you accept a date with him? He was way out of your league! All it would be was one date you would remember someday in your old years, annoying your grandchildren with that one time you had dinner at one of the most incredibly powerful and famous artists of the world.

Hoseok surreptitiously dried his palms against his trousers. He looked at you. His stomach turned again. He wondered how he would manage to eat all that food. All he could do was look at you and take in the cute freckles, that peppered your nose and cheekbones, and your arms too.

“You have freckles.” He noted absentmindedly, a thought unwillingly turned into speech.

You turned your head to him, batting your lashes confusedly. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

“Yes.”

“You look like a strawberry.” Jung Hoseok, what the fuck.

You frowned. Again, was that good or bad?

“No one has ever told me that before,” you replied with a tense giggle.

He cocked his head at the sound. That was sweet. He liked that. Could he make you laugh like that again? “And you look very pretty in the dress. That shade of yellow really compliments you.” He confessed, feeling his whole face blush.

This felt like his first crush, when he would hide behind corners not to face the girl he liked, and when he would hide his face because it made him feel strange to be looked in the eye by her. She was way too pretty for him.

Thank the heavens, you thought as the doors finally opened on his floor.

He was drenched in sweat. He could literally feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

He smiled again, this time more relaxedly as he led the way. The lighting was perfect, the deep night sky splashing its colour over Seoul, the billowing darkness of the Han, the magical glimmering of Itaewon, like a flock of fireflies in the distance.

“Goodness gracious,” you exclaimed, walking toward the window and looking out, completely ignoring the table. “This is… It’s like flying.”

He smiled and let his shoulder sag in relief, his elated exhale cooling his heated chest. “I was panicking because it kind of hit me that you could be scared of heights. Like one of those last minute panic thoughts.”

You turned to him to comfort him. “It’s—”

You noticed the table. You noticed the gargantuan quantity of bowls and dishes and plates and cups spread all over it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Was this supposed to be a formal dinner?” You asked, your whole face scrunched in perplexity.

He froze in utter confusion. “Just dinner.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking as his left eyelid started pulsating with small flutters.

He hurriedly placed his hand over it, turning his back to you. “Yeah, just… Hot weather, blood pressure...”

You walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was drenched. “Jung Hoseok,” you called calmly.

You could feel his heartbeat get three times faster.

“Hoseok. Turn around,” you told him sweetly, rubbing his shoulder-blade softly, completely ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin.

He turned to you, still cupping the left side of his face with both hands.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, feeling the ridge of his shoulder with your fingertips.

He nodded shyly, giving you the smallest pout.

“And you got a full meal for this? Were you trying to kill me by overfeeding me?” You asked with a tiny smile.

“I— I didn’t know what you like and I hired a chef so we could have excellent food here at home and—”

“This wasn’t necessary, you know that right?” You rubbed your thumb against the muscle and bone of his shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it seems like you went maybe… slightly out of your way for this.” You noticed more details, like the flowers and the candles and… wait, he hired a chef? There was another person that would take part in your date as a silent, distant viewer?

“Is it too much?” He asked, frowning and grimacing.

You offered him a lopsided grin and tipped your head to one side, then to the other, back and forth in a so-and-so gesture.

He covered his whole face with his hands and collapsed on the sofa. “Shit, I fucked up so bad.”

You crouched down before him, making sure that the dress didn’t expose too much of your thighs. “It’s okay. Would you like to have a formal dinner?”

“I just wanted to make a good impression.” He whined, tugging at his hair once more.

You touched his forearms, trying to ease his tension before realising that you were technically strangers and maybe he didn’t like being touched. You scolded yourself for your over-tactile approach, and your dumb habit of treating everyone like abandoned puppies. Embarrassedly you placed your hands on your lap, his face raising to meet yours as he felt your fingers leave his skin. Had he done something wrong? Had he made a fool of himself one more time, without even knowing?

“You already made a good impression—”

“I wanted to confirm it!” He wailed exasperatedly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down. “We can walk this walk or do something more low-key. More... relaxing,” you suggested, smiling easily, calmly.

He could feel himself calm down. “Would it disappoint you if we just… I don’t know... ate some noodles over a glass of soju and beer?”

You giggled. “That would make me ecstatic.”

“Let me go call off the chef then.” He stood to his feet. “Thank you so much.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “No biggie.”

In two minutes the chef came out of the kitchen, bowing at you while you still sat on the sofa. “Good evening. I wish you a good meal. I hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

“Thank you for your hard work! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!” You replied politely and warmly, watching the man collect a bag from the entry room and bow to Hoseok as he accompanied him out.

“He had already finished cooking.” Hoseok exhaled. He looked ten years younger and significantly less stressed. “The meat had already been grilled, it just needs to be warmed up in the oven.”

“You mean there’s more food?” You asked, eyes wide in terror.

He started shaking his hands in equal fear. “We don’t have to eat that too. Maybe just a couple short ribs?” He wondered.

You stared at the rice and side dishes on the table. It was probably four times what you normally ate, and that was without considering his half of the table. “You have glass noodles?” You asked, and he nodded excitedly at your interest.

“With aubergines and mushrooms and pork belly?”

You felt your mouth water. “Can we have those though?”

He smiled excitedly. “The chef was stir frying the vegetables so we would have to finish that.”

You shrugged. “I can do that while you go get changed, if you’d like. Wear something fresh and cozy.”

He looked around nervously.

You immediately realised what was wrong. How could he let a stranger wander through his house? And he wasn’t just anyone. He was a celebrity. A famous person. What if he thought you would sneak through his private spaces and sell information about him to the press?

“Uhm—”

“Oh my god. No, it’s okay. Who would let a stranger stay in their home while they’re in the shower. Dumb me. Sorry.”

He blinked a couple times. “It's the first time I have invited someone in my house, except for my close friends.” He looked down and smiled, his cheeks shooting up in a complicated mix of sadness and joy. “I'm nervous because of that too.”

You nodded. “I know it could sound dumb to say but I care about you. And I'm not interested in gossip and press and all of that. I will respect you and your home. It's basic human decency,” you said, sitting next to him. “I only suggested you go get a change of clothes because that cannot be comfortable and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted out of that.”

He looked up at you with big, soft eyes. “It would really be okay?”

“Yes, it would, Hobi.” You flinched at the nickname. “Hoseok. Sorry.” You wanted to tear your own tongue off.

However, just as much as you felt disappointed at yourself for the small slip, he felt warm about you calling him by a nickname. He wanted you to say it again. And again. And well… again but in other ways.

“I'll be back in five minutes, just to rinse off and get comfy.”

You nodded. “I'll wait here and then we'll get the noodles ready.”

Hoseok felt extremely relieved once he changed his clothes. The loose linen joggers felt like a soft cloud around his legs, air already circulating better against his skin. And the satin shirt made him feel classy and casual at the same time.

He was pleased at the comfort-looks ratio of his outfit and exited the room confidently. He was further reassured once he found you scrolling through your phone, sitting there innocently, smiling at him once you saw him appear.

“Okay, ready to go?” He asked, standing in front of you, all set to accompany you to the kitchen.

You nodded and took his hand as he helped you up. “Let’s go.”

He smelled amazing, like anise and patchouli. Something sweet and manly at the same time. It suited him perfectly.

Standing a bit too close after he tugged you up, you surreptitiously tried to sniff him, your eyes falling shut once the vaguely honeyed fragrance met your nostrils.

He observed you as you stood there, clearly entranced. Heat crept up his cheeks as your breath tickled down his neck: he was slowly becoming aware of your presence, of the warmth that your skin radiated, of the way a strand of your hair skimmed his arm.

“I like your perfume,” you whispered.

He felt his knees grow vaguely wobbly, a swoony, shy smile stretching his lips.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised his face was just a few inches away from yours, his blush visible in high definition right before your eyes.

He looked so incredibly, adorably embarrassed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

Your eyes met his, and for a second he hoped you would get on your tiptoes and kiss him, but you casually turned around and started walking away, turning to him only to ask about the kitchen.

Trying to keep his delusions on the low, he led you to the kitchen, where all you could see was the tidy chaos of creation.

A few bowls were piled neatly in the sink, together with lined up utensils. You let him show you the several drawers and cabinets, explaining where to find a frying pan for the vegetables, the noodles already cooked and marinated in the secret sauce the chef had prepared.

All he could do was stare as you easily made your way through the motions, the main dish of your meal ready to be served after a few minutes, the vegetables keeping a crispy texture while the noodles hit a chewier feel once you mixed the two together.

You set both on different bowls and offered them to Hoseok. “I’ll put a couple short ribs in the oven.”

He nodded and reached the dining table, frowning at all the food spread there in cups and plates and dishes and bowls.

His disappointment was short-lived.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured gently, completely incapable of keeping yourself from tracing his spine in between his shoulder blades.

You watched his back straighten, the glossy satin glimmering at the shift of muscles and tendons underneath.

You wanted to see that again. No shirt on, next time.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, trying to awaken yourself from your fantasy.

He set the bowls down and you sat in front of each other, thanking for the food quickly before you started chatting about which food was where.

The meal went on calmly while you talked about your family, your job, and the pets you had visited during the day. At the same time, he explained some of the undercover dynamics of his job, like all the training and briefing and preparations necessary before interviews, photoshoots, or even something as basic as a public appearance where all they had to do was stand and look pretty for the photographers. He teased the theme of the Run episode they had just filmed — which was almost fifteen episodes ahead to the one that had just been aired.

You chit-chatted for a long while, your conversation resembling the sound of chirping birds thanks to Hoseok’s naturally melodic intonation of speech. He was lovely when he stumbled a bit over his words, the ridge of his ears scarlet with embarrassment once a slip of tongue had him making a lewd allusion you caught with a mischievous grin he couldn’t quite catch since your eyes were glued to the table; he had been too busy being ashamed of his freudian lapsus to actually notice that you had enjoyed the reference.

He was saved by the sound of the oven beeping, telling him that the ribs were warm and ready, which made him excuse himself.

He returned just a minute later with more soju and beer, asking if you were okay with the serving or if you were full.

The smell was so inviting you let him convince you.

No matter the large dinner and the several dishes, you managed to eat way more than what you thought, only a quarter of the table remaining untouched.

“Okay, maybe we could pack up the leftovers.” You suggested, standing up once your conversation hit a natural pause, comforted by the feeling that Hoseok no longer felt like a stranger to you.

You helped him, easily getting acquainted with his living room and kitchen. It felt nice to get gradually more independent, enough that you could easily help him up with the containers and that you could assist him with organizing the tupperware in the fridge.

It was all going okay until you were standing in front of the open fridge, ready to close it when his hand landed on yours on the handle, holding the door open. He leaned against your back, grabbing a paper box from the top shelf.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, all chirpiness gone.

Shivers propagated from your spine to your limbs, your brain suddenly struck by the feel of perspiration coating your inner thighs. You felt wet and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or actual arousal.

His perfume came in again once he stretched to reach the box.

Hoseok’s attention moved to the mole on your neck as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he said, giving a quick look at your lashes, at the freckles peppered over your cheekbones, your face turned to the side, ready to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

His hand was hot against yours, his back light and solid at the same time.

He parted from you, feeling disappointed with the fact that he had to move, biting his lip as his arm struggled keeping the box upright.

You caved slightly as cool air replaced the warmth of his chest, still feeling the phantom presence of his touch.

“Let’s go back to the living room.” He bit his lip, grabbing another bottle as you almost ran from him.

You weren’t okay with what was going on. Not one small bit. You were not okay with the idea of getting drenched and making a mess of yourself on the first date. You were even less okay with the idea of going back home and spending all night with your hand between your legs, thinking about the mind-blowing sex Jung Hoseok was most definitely capable of performing. With a body like that and years of pilates lessons, there was no doubt he could rearrange your organs as your legs and arms bent to accommodate him and please him.

You were even less pleased by the way you craved to satisfy him. You wanted to hear him moan and whine with his melodious voice. You wanted to hear the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his cries, the smashing of skin against skin, and maybe the legs of the bed scraping against the floor, the headboard thudding against the wall.

You wanted his perfume on your neck, against your chest. You wanted your thighs to smell like him, the scent of your sex mingling with his cologne. It was primal and visceral and obscure and thrilling.

And then a sick side of you wanted to wake up all the neighbours, let them know he was living the night of his life. And since you could only hope of getting a second chance, you found yourself ready to use the night you’d been granted, if fate would allow you an in to the sinful heaven you were imagining.

After all, you weren’t even sure he still liked you.

As he sat in front of you, Hoseok observed your side profile while you stared out of the window, completely lost in your thoughts, your cheeks reddened because of the alcohol.

He was so whipped for you.

However, he knew the initial thrill would eventually fade and leave him with an adorable, beautiful young woman who could never own his heart or tend to his vulnerable side. It had happened so many times before that he was just waiting for his interest to die down.

Because right as he stared at your dreamy expression, he realised he would never lay a finger on you.

You were far too precious for him to sully you with his dirty paws and devilish ways.

With a sliver of sadness tainting his smile, he placed the cake in the middle, preparing two forks, one on your side and one on his.

“I’ve heard champagne is great with strawberries,” he commented, opening the bottle and awakening you from your daydream.

You blinked a few times. “Oh, just a little or I’ll end up dizzy,” you replied with a small smile. “This cake looks beautiful.”

“I hope you aren’t allergic to strawberries or dairy products,” he mused, lifting up his glass to clink it with yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated before answering his questions. “Luckily I don’t have any allergies. Usually I prefer eating fruit and vegetables, but I’m pretty cool with any kind of food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hoseok replied before realising he’d better never see you again. You were too tempting, too pretty, too gentle and overall too attractive for someone like him. Chances were you would be a bit disappointed but would find a proper date within the next two weeks. Women like you were far too requested and treasured in a city like Seoul.

You were suitable from head to toe. You had a degree, a job, a place to yourself, you were accomplished. And then your innocent looks, your kind manners, the caring side he had the fortune of catching a glimpse of.

You would be taken in less than three weeks. He could tell.

It was a mystery to him how you were still single after eight months in the city.

He found the courage to look up from the dessert, only to regret it immediately.

Your mouth was wide open in an attempt to chomp on a huge strawberry, your lips rosy, your nose smeared with cream.

I shall not.

I cannot.

I should not.

He paused.

Fuck. I will.

He placed down his fork and stood to his feet, your eyes following him as he came to your side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking at his stone-cold expression.

You put your fork down, staring back at him with concern.

His hand moved tentatively to your cheek, laying gently along your jaw.

Turning to him, you stared some more, your chest inflating and deflating rapidly and deeply — which was not lost on him.

Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes as he leaned down his thumb moving closer to your mouth, parted as you found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your whole world was dark and hot once his breath fanned over your face.

With overwhelming desire coursing through him, Hoseok stared at every single detail, drinking you in with eyes so hungry, like he could swallow every freckle, every mole, every bit of plump flesh and bony edge.

With his hand trembling slightly at the strange position, he dragged his thumb against the tip of your nose, collecting the cream smeared there.

Your eyes opened in surprise at the unanticipated motion, meeting his lowered eyelids, his lovely lashes making an appearance against the fair skin.

And then his thumb met your lips, covering them in sweetness.

“You had cream on your nose,” he said, his eyes never abandoning the curves of your lips.

Jung Hoseok knew he was a sinner already. But with heartbreaking realisation, he knew the next action would deem his fall.

His tongue slipped out of his mouth, guided by a need so deep he could barely control. With the worst intentions, he focused on touching you as little as possible, trying to scoop up the cream caught on the gentle petals of your lips.

What he didn’t expect was for your own tongue to slide out and brush against his.

From there, it was only ruination.

His tongue slid in your mouth, catching on all the flavours of the dessert. It was strawberries. Strawberries everywhere; your freckles, your hair, your shampoo, your dress, he was possessed by them, drowning in a forest of strawberry bushes growing all over him, climbing into his mouth and underneath his clothes.

“Hobi,” you called weakly as he let you go, your body shooting up on your feet as you tried to chase after his mouth, tried to have his arms around you.

He moaned and caught you, placing his forearm against your lower back and holding your cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t but you’re too hard to resist.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, kissing his jaw, trying to reach the underside of his ear. “Please.”

You tried to calm your breathing by inhaling deeply through your nose, which in retrospective was an awful move since his scent filled your lungs and all you could do was whine in reply, the sound ridiculous and embarrassing to your own ears.

“I’ll do bad things to you, honey. We should stop now,” he said, trying to be judicious.

“Please,” you begged again, rubbing your face against his neck, already trying to cover yourself in his perfume. “Just a kiss, please.”

Closing his eyes, he gave in, following the line of your neck, the sweet mole at the base, drawing your throat with the inner side of his lips.

“Hobi…” You whined once more before receiving a gentle tug at your hair.

“I’m getting there, don’t be impatient,” he growled, making your neck stretch backwards. Once more his tongue slipped out, drawing a line from the hollow between your collarbones all the way to your chin, stopping at your lower lip. “If you’re patient you get a reward, see? That’s how it works with me, sweetheart.”

He kissed your mouth, first delicately, tentatively, trying to feel you open up and give in.

Once you did, he locked your face against his with the hand of his nape, following your body as you walked backwards, reaching the sofa.

“What do you want to tell me, my pretty strawberry?” He teased once he allowed you to let go of him.

“Thank you.”

It was not what he expected, but it made his stomach churn with longing. He needed to please you more, give you more, just to hear those words again.

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, tell me. What do you want me to do, sweetie?” He watched as you sat on the carpet.

You remembered how soft it had felt earlier under your knees. “I wanna make out?” You asked, lashes batting. You didn’t want to sound eager.

“Just make out?” He asked, sitting down in front of you. There was no way he would allow you to blow him tonight.

You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He wanted to dive into them, to feel the magic they held glow inside his body. “Am I allowed to ask for more?” You questioned with the sweetest pout.

“You can ask me anything, honey.” He skimmed the skin of your jaw with the back of his fingers before feeling the hot curve of your neck under his palm.

“Would you think ill of me if I asked for more?”

He shook his head and smiled softly. He would never think ill of you. Not even if you asked him to fuck you for a whole audience of connoisseurs to stare. “You're my cute, little strawberry. I could never think lowly of you.” He cooed.

“What if I wanted you to… to fuck me?” You asked, biting your lip nervously before looking at him.

He thought about the consequences for maybe half a second. He felt awful because, at the end of all the reasoning he knew he would hoard you and every single ounce of pleasure he could coax out of your body.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked, letting his hand follow the path between your breasts, down to your waist gripping your side.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I'll be so good to you.”

His grin was outright evil. “I know you will, baby.” He kissed your temple. “I need to go get protection if that's what you want. I'll give you a minute to think about it and if you still think so when I'm back, then we're gonna deal with your needy head, mh?”

You nodded, staring at him as he stood up, incapable of not studying his crotch where his cock was visibly tenting his loose trousers.

He chuckled as he watched you stare. “It'll be yours if you still want it later.”

Your eyebrows raised in disappointment as you watched him leave.

So… it was actually going to happen. Did you want it to happen?

What a stupid question! Yes. Of course.

You wanted him and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time.

His footsteps reached the room once more, disappearing once his feet touched the carpet.

“Okay. Here we go, sweetie. Are you still sure you want to have sex with me?” He asked, kneeling and moving your hair off your face, your head reaching his sternum from your seated position.

“Yes, I'm sure,” You confirmed curtly. “Please.”

Oh, to hear you beg. He could cum from that alone. It was intoxicating. And he wasn't even touching you. He could only imagine what sounds you would make once his cock would fill your cunt.

“You want the bedroom—”

“Here. Please.” You shut your eyes tight. You felt like an animal, willing to fuck wherever, and the immense temptation of feeling the plush carpet underneath your back, the city lights illuminating his skin…

Hoseok inhaled.

You were wilder than what you looked and such information aroused him immensely.

“Lay back, honey.” He murmured, extracting three small squares of foil from his pocket and laying them on the coffee table.

Slowly, you lowered your back to the carpet while he kneeled close to you, your legs rotating so that your feet laid right in front of his knees, your legs bent and pressed together.

“That's nice, ____. Lovely,” he said before placing his hands on your knees. “Would you like to spread your pretty legs for me?” He asked, his fingers sliding down your thighs, reaching the hem of the dress.

You looked adorable once you demurely parted your feet to offer him some space between your knees, the hem of the dress moving closer to your lap.

His legs slotted between your thighs and he bent down, reaching for your face. “Such a good girl,” he praised you, cooing once he noticed your cheeks redden. “So adorable.”

On all fours on top of you, you felt the unique shape of his mouth draw your throat before giving a lick. “I bet you taste like strawberries all over.” He started kissing down your chest, rubbing his cheek against your small breasts. “You make me feel like a man starved,” he continued, kissing your stomach, your abdomen, laying one small peck on the fabric covering your belly button.

“Hoseok,” you whined, feeling his hands around your hips.

He stopped brusquely, his body entirely leaving yours. “Now, now, sweetie. What did you just call me?”

You batted your lashes as you stared at him in confusion. “Hoseok.”

“Okay. If you want to have sex with me, honey, that name will not do.”

You stared at him some more.

“I’m Sir,” he affirmed sternly. “The moment you get wet between your legs, I become Sir to you, understood?”

You nodded quickly, breath and brain completely stolen out of you.

“No nodding, my cute berry. Either ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Let’s try again. Is it clear what you must call me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He grinned and kissed your belly again, just a bit lower. “That’s excellent. Well done, ____.”

You smiled and placed your hands on his hair, feeling the soft locks as he looked up at you.

He growled at that, your fingers naturally curling in fists as you brought them to your chest. “A very good girl indeed.”

You propped yourself up to your elbows once he lifted the skirt of your dress.

He could barely believe you. “Goodness.”

“At first I thought my dress was stuck on my underwear when you called me strawberry.”

Under the cutest, loveliest, most girlish dress he had ever seen, he was met by another adorable surprise. You were wearing a playful pair of ruffled panties in gingham print, with a small strawberry embroidered on your mound.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, eyes closing before he dipped his head between your legs, studying the patch of wetness on the gusset of your panties, drawing a line from there to your clit, eliciting a moan. “You’re so sweet. And so evil at the same time.” He bit your inner thigh, making you wince. “Can’t believe that song predicted you on my carpet.”

You giggled and arched your hips against his face, your wetness meeting his cheek lewdly.

He inhaled you, completely intoxicated before he came back up, his arms caging your head. “You really rubbed yourself against my face, honey?” He asked with a stone cold expression.

You were afraid again, but that didn’t keep you pussy from clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, the respect in your voice nothing but a taunt.

“If you make a mess you gotta clean it, sweetie. Understood?” He asked, grabbing your face and angling his cheek to your mouth. “Clean it.”

“Please, Sir,” you mewled, trying to push your crotch against him, crying out once you noticed his body was too far away for you to find something to grind against.

“Clean after yourself. Now.”

You did as he told you, feeling the salty, bitter tang of your arousal transfer from his smooth skin to your tongue.

“All of it,” he muttered once you stopped after the first lick.

You completed your task, his pelvis lowering to yours as a reward. “There you go. Now thank me.”

Your arms moved around his torso, trying to get him closer, just to brush your chest against the soft, smooth satin of his shirt.

“I said, thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You felt him cave immediately, giving you his hard and lithe body against your chest, your crotch, right in your arms as your legs wrapped around him. You felt crazy, grinding against him like a teenager, ridiculously reminded of how you used to go off by humping a pillow. “Please, inside,” you wailed, your sigh hitting his chest and disappearing underneath his shirt. Once you inhaled, his cologne felt like a bruising kiss, your hips meeting his harder, faster.

“You like my perfume?”

You nodded furiously.

Not again. He violently separated himself from you. “What did I tell you about replies?” He scolded you.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You looked down with repentance. “I like your perfume very much, Sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Now, after I praise you, thank me.” He pushed your dress up as his hand dragged heavily from your crotch to your throat.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied obediently, watching as he got on his knees and tugged his trousers down, the white boxers underneath surprising you as they outlined his length perfectly.

“You want it out?” He asked, watching as you sat up straighter and licked your lips.

You were almost ready to nod when you caught yourself, Hoseok smiling proudly once he saw you correct your behaviour. “I want it out, Sir.”

“Excellent.”

He lowered his underwear too, his cock standing erect immediately, it fluttered even straighter once you kept looking, your hands touching your breasts needily.

Hoseok stretched to the coffee table, grabbing a condom and tearing the foil open, sliding the latex on quickly and firmly.

“My cute berry, I need you to be very careful about this. You know what a safeword is?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir.”

He momentarily covered himself, needing to get all your focus on his words. “Safewords are what you use to communicate with your partner in a BDSM scene. A safeword means that you don’t like what is going on and you want to slow down or stop. We will use the traffic lights system. If you say ‘yellow’, I will slow down, if you say ‘red’, I will let go of you entirely and help you recover from whatever it was that hurt you, mentally, emotionally or physically. On the other hand, ‘green’ means that you’re okay and you are ready to get back into the scene after a ‘yellow’. If I ask you your colour, you reply with those. All clear?”

“All clear, Sir.”

He grinned proudly. “Then explain to me how it works.”

“If I want to slow down, I call ‘yellow’. If I want to stop, I call ‘red’. If I’m all good, I call ‘green’ — Sir.” You added for good measure, knowing that one too many wouldn’t hurt for sure.

“That’s my good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled as he looked in your eyes. He knew he would remember you forever, even if he never developed any feelings for you. You were by far the most unique woman he’d ever had under him so far.

For a second he observed your cute, frilly undies, wondering if he wanted them off.

No. 

He took his cock out of his underwear, letting the waistbands of his trousers and boxers rest on his mid-thigh.

“Wanna keep these pretty panties on.” He murmured once he laid on top of you. “Tell me if the elastic band hurts you.” He said, moving the gusset aside and testing your wetness with his fingers, spreading the slickness over your folds. “So fucking soft. Dammit. Can't wait.”

He dipped his head against your neck. “You want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You placed your hands on the small of his back, his eyes closing as he relished in your touch.

“Beg for it.” He murmured, dragging the tip up and down your slit.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Sir.”

“You won't beg?” He asked, looking at you.

You pouted. “Why do you want me to beg?” You asked with a frown.

“I need to know you want me, my sweet berry,” he pouted back. He touched your face giving you a few kisses to convince you. “I want to hear your sweet voice saying 'please', just one more time,” he whispered, feeling merciful, especially after all the ways he had already pushed you.

Your will bent to his. “Please.”

And just like that, his tip entered your warm, tight cunt, a moan exiting his mouth. “Yes, yes, ____. Yes, baby,” he groaned, at which you responded with a mewl.

“Hobi…” You cried, squeezing around him once he bottomed out.

“Don't make me punish you,” he murmured, exhaling raspily. “You've been such a good girl. Don't get naughty.”

“Sir, please.”

He started snapping his hips out, slowly, then in again, one inch at a time, so deep and slow, over and over. “Yes, baby. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels too good, Sir, I'm…”

He hummed in pleasure, feeling the skin of your neck under his lips. “Too good. My berry, you're so tiny and tight.” His hips trusted in quickly and unexpectedly.

“Holy… Sir, please, again, please.” You squealed, feeling his thumb slide your panties further aside to reach your clit.

He breathed out with effort against your ear as your mouth reached his earlobe. “Fuck, not there, Berry. Not there,” he said, tugging his ear out of your mouth.

“But Sir—,” you tried objecting before his pace became irresistible. While one hand reached the crown of his hair, holding him against you, the other one met his glute, your nails sinking in his flesh. Your breath started coming in short hiccups, leading you to your climax as he outright hammered into you, his back curved away while his forehead stayed glued to your neck.

“Am I fucking you right, ____? Is it good enough for my golden girl?” He growled once he felt you tightening around him more intensely, with longer squeezes.

“It's perfect, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you reacted readily, shaking your head as pleasure started overpowering you, trying not to hurt him.

“Cum, my sweet berry. Show me.”

The hiccups of your breathing started turning in tiny whimpers, then squeals.

You were ready to bury your head in the ground and never come back because you knew what would come next.

The squeals turned into an uncontrolled cascade of giggles. Giggles.

Hoseok picked his head up at the curious sound, only to see your palm covering your mouth in an attempt to bottle the stupid reaction.

Hoseok smiled through gritted teeth, going faster, harder, deeper now that he understood that the sweet gurgling laugh was due to your orgasm peaking.

He pinned your hand away from your face, basking in the desperate joy of your bliss before he felt himself ready to blow.

“I'm gonna slide out now,” he warned, making sure that your high had faded and your body laid limp and drained underneath him.

Your body relaxed against the carpet, your eyes closed, your lungs still working hysterically to give you back some oxygen after the ruthless fit of giggles. You whimpered once you felt him pull out.

“Look at me, honey,” he called, making you prop your upper back on your elbows as you looked down, only to be met by the sight of Hoseok slipping off the condom. “Let me cum on your cute panties, mh? Can I? I promise I'm clean, I can show you the—”

“Do it,” you replied, giving him official permission.

“Really?”

“Really— I mean, yes, Sir.”

He smirked and started pumping himself furiously, his expression frantic as his tip pressed to your mound and he came apart, his hot seed drenching the red and white cotton, an animalistic growl making his whole chest shake.

You welcomed him in your arms once he collapsed on top of you, right hand smeared in slickness. “I’m gonna call you Giggles.” He said, kissing your mole, the precise spot where he could feel your blood run underneath the skin, the hollow just under your earlobe. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You felt your whole body blush. “It’s so stupid but I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t stop it, it’s adorable.” He sniffed at your hair, “you still smell like strawberries.”

“Must be my shampoo.”

“Fuck. So good.” He sniffed some more. “I thought it would kill me earlier, by the fridge.”

“I thought you would kill me.” You said, feeling his neck with your lips. “Your perfume might be aphrodisiac.”

“You’re too tempting.” He chuckled. “I might need another round.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked me on your living room carpet.” You said, combing his hair as he still regained his energies.

“Aren’t you happy?” He asked, suddenly panicked.

“No, I mean. I’m… I’m really happy. I’m just… incredulous that this is happening to me.” You replied with a surprised laugh.

“Maybe I should give it another go to make sure you actually understand what’s happening.”

“Would you mind helping me understand on the dinner table?” You batted your lashes cutely and paired that with an angelic smile.

“Are you even real?” He touched your face with his clean hand, giving you an inquisitive look. “You appear, all cute and innocent and then you want me to get you all dirty and filthy?”

Your smile widened. “The other ones were a bit scared by this side of me.”

“I won’t be scared of your needs, Giggles.”

You blushed again and hid your face.

“No hiding,” he reprimanded before rolling on his side, leaving you some room to obey the orders he was about to give you. “Keep giving me those sweet giggles,” he said, tracing your belly with his fingertips before trying to tickle you.

The effect was immediate. You clenched your legs and slapped his hands away from you, the torturing sound parting from your lips in a series of childlike gurgles. “Stop! I’m gonna mess up!” You screamed, trying not to stain your dress or the carpet. “No! No! Wait! Yellow!”

At that he took his hands off you immediately, your body laying on your back breathless.

“You good, Giggles?” He asked, voice drenched with worry.

You nodded, still panting.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He questioned, watching you move your head in confirmation.

“Okay.” He looked at your dress, trying to find a zipper. “Should I—”

“Start with my underwear, please?” You asked, your breath laboured due to arousal rather than exhaustion.

He nodded and licked his lips as he slowly tugged your panties down, careful about keeping his release from touching the carpet or your legs. Once the garment unhooked from your ankles, he folded it carefully to keep the wet fabric tucked in.

“Kneel, Giggles.”

You followed his command blindly, watching as your hands slid up under your skirt and tugged your dress up, his palms meeting your ribs and dragging the fabric upwards, past your breasts, then up against your armpits and backwards to your shoulder-blades, slipping the the neckline past your head.

Dress off, he let it fall distractedly to the floor, his eyes going from your face, to your hair, to your nipples — sinfully rosy — following the line leading from your breastbone to your belly button. He kissed the first piece of skin that met his lips, someplace where his heartbeat felt like a drum, like the bass coming from an old boom box. It was so comforting in a way he barely understood.

He needed room to think. “Get on the table.” His voice was once more stern and distant, especially once you watched him grab the opened foil containing the tied up condom, then stand up and leave.

You followed his direction nonetheless, standing awkwardly by the table, watching the cake and stealing a strawberry since the orgasm had awakened a certain sweet tooth in you. You dipped the strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, relaxing just a little after you heard the water run in the kitchen.

He was probably washing his hands.

You took you time licking up the cream, only to start chomping down on the incredibly large fruit right after. That’s when Hoseok appeared.

He was shirtless now, the garment dangling from his spindly fingers before he laid it neatly against the back of the couch. You stopped mid-bite.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your snack, go on, honey.” He licked his lips and gave you a steamy look before going to the table and pocketing the condoms left. “Is it good?” He asked, walking to stand right in front of you.

You felt slightly unnerved as he seemed completely indifferent to your naked body.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered

You frowned and hesitated.

At that, he let his hands hover over your hips. “Shall I help you with it?” He asked, giving you the chance to avoid his touch before laying his fingertips delicately on your skin. “Gimme a colour, Giggles.”

“Maybe yellow.” You bit your lip, insecurity getting the best of you.

He moved his hands to your face, suddenly turning comforting. “Quick tip, my pretty berry.” He caressed your face in a way that made you feel way too at ease. “If it’s a ‘maybe yellow’, then it’s a yellow. How can I help you, ____?”

Your real name made you come down to earth. You shook your head and looked away, Hoseok suddenly scared of having gone too far.

“I’m not comfortable with the way I let you control me, maybe.” Which was not entirely true. You were not comfortable with the way you craved his control after spending maybe four hours with him — including the afternoon he entered the vet studio with Mickey in his arms and a hopeless, lost look on his face.

“It’s all up to you, ____. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but the answer is really within yourself. I can’t make you more comfortable with how you feel,” he said, still not even considering your nakedness in front of him.

In such a moment his indifference was welcome.

You looked down, your hands disappearing into your hair. Maybe this was the only night you were granted. Did you really want it to end already?

He did not touch you as you mulled over every option.

“I’m… I’m not— We’re technically strangers, I shouldn’t be trusting you like this, you shouldn’t be trusting me like this either, I mean this is all so— all so twisted and wicked and fast and—”

Hoseok was ready for reality to slap him across the face. He was ready for your regrets and you walking to your dress on the floor and cursing your messed up panties which you most definitely could not wear to go back home. He was ready for you to call what you did a mistake and say that there was no way for a woman like you to be with a man like him.

“My mind tells me I shouldn’t, but I want it so much.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, finally finding the courage to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, that’s not true. I’m comfortable with the way you control me.” Slowly you took a step back, your ass meeting the surface of the table. “I’m just questioning what that means to me.”

He nodded. It explained a lot about your innocent, greedy approach to sex. You were exploring and you had found something you didn’t expect to even remotely consider.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and sat on the table. “No, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up before he regained his composure. “Colour.”

You allowed yourself to stare at his chest. He was so well-built. Harmonious. He looked like a painting. “Green. Very deep, dark green. Sir.”

He took a step closer. “Green?”

“Forest green. As green as a clover.” You felt his hand on your belly, dragging against your skin all the way to your throat, pushing you down as you lowered yourself on your elbows.

“If you feel uncomfortable emotionally or mentally speaking, you call a yellow. Please, promise me you’ll be very careful about it, Giggles. I care about your mindspace. It means everything to me.”

“I promise, Sir.”

He removed his hand from your throat and placed it against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your lips once he bent over you. “You’re talking to Hoseok right now, ____. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on how your mind’s doing. Promise it.”

You kissed him back, closing your eyes once his tongue caressed and molded against yours. Breathless, you parted from him. “I promise, Hobi.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything about tonight. It would break my heart, okay?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you nodded. “I’ll take care. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now stay right there, lovely. Look what I got for you.” He found the cake, placed carefully away from your laying body. Skillfully, he dipped a strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, dragging the tip of the fruit across them like lipstick.

He bent down and licked a fat stripe following the seam of your mouth, only to repeat the gesture once more; however, this time you let your tongue lash out and tangle up with his, the strawberry held away from you, trying not to catch it in your hair.

“Open up,” he commanded, pushing the treat past your lips, into your eager mouth. “Suck. Now.”

Your gaze became bubbly once more as you followed his lead, your cheeks sucked in at the pressure you were making with your mouth, the strawberry emerging completely clean from your mouth.

He smirked at the sigh, arching an eyebrow at the result. “You make it hard not to push my cock in your mouth.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to do.” You raised an eyebrow right back at him, getting cocky.

“Not happening. I wanna hear that laugh again, Giggles.” Tentatively, he gave a small slap to your breast, surprising you and making you arch your back, gasping in pleasure. Your legs tightened around him, trying to clench your thighs shut at the feeling of arousal slipping out of your hole and sliding down to your behind. “And don’t you dare be a brat to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice was squeaky once you managed to reply.

“Did you like it, Giggles?”

The treacherous sound escaped your mouth once more as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir.”

You wondered if you would ever get tired at the reply. You doubted it very highly.

“Let’s see if you like this too,” he mused before pouring more champagne in a glass and dipping the strawberry in the wine. He fixed his stance between your legs. “Remember our safewords?”

You confirmed before he lifted the strawberry and let a droplet fall right in the middle of your chest, splashing heavy and wet on your skin. Cold too.

“I’m going to make you my dessert, my pretty strawberry. Remember? Strawberries go well with champagne, lovely.”

He let one more drop fall to your breast, your breath stopping completely at the coldness, Hoseok’s eyes amused at the sight of your nipple awakening and hardening, lengthening even. It became impossibly rosier as another drop fell.

It felt stupid not to repeat the same treatment to your other nipple, which responded twice as quickly now that arousal was abundantly flowing through every single inch of you.

The strawberry drew a neat line of champagne pearls from your belly, which you sucked in at the cold, all the way up to your neck — a line that Hoseok followed with his mouth, letting his tongue stretch out of the way whenever a droplet rolled out of place.

He let the strawberry fall into the glass, extracting the condoms from his pocket and placing them on the table before taking off the rest of his clothes. He tugged at himself a couple times, getting hard enough to wear a condom.

His hands were going to get dirty, therefore he had no other options than getting ready very quickly.

“Giggles?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?” You corrected yourself in a millisecond, not wanting to risk another delay in your pleasure.

“I’m going to get really dirty now, lovely. Would you be okay with showering here?”

You let your lashes flutter a few times before nodding.

He gave a curt nod in reply before wearing protection and letting his cock rub against your crotch. His body stretched over yours, his thumb collecting a dollop of cream and dividing it with his other thumb. You observed his movements attentively as his clean fingers laid against the side of your breasts and his thumbs landed on your nipples.

Your mouth opened silently once the sensation flowed in, his digits starting a rolling motion over your peaks, playing them in small circles that innocently reminded you of a joystick.

“Colour.”

“So, so green. Can I have a blue for mind blowing good.” You tried to pick your head up, letting it thud back down once his cock dragged perfectly against your clit, eliciting a purr from your throat and a groan from his, his sex perfectly sandwiched between your and his belly.

“Blue— I— ” He talked in small babbles and hiccups. “I get what you— ah— what you mean.” His forehead met your collarbone.

He found unspeakable strength and managed to rise from your breasts, collecting half a handful of cream spreading it over his entire palms and fingers like lotion before grabbing your breasts and kneading them, his hands dwarfing them entirely.

“Sir, please, I need your cock,” you found yourself ridiculously begging, ready to hump anything that met your core.

“Slip it in for me, Giggles.”

The moment he got inside, you didn’t even try to keep it down, riding him no matter the difficult position or the awkward angle. You let your hands scratch down his chest and grip his arms — and he allowed you.

You were getting more and more unhinged and he wanted to see every little detail, every little second, every single step that brought you to bliss and ruination, giggling like you’d never been half as ecstatic in your life. His hands slipped and groped your gentle curves, his mind growing hazier by the second.

All his control came back once he noticed your legs leaving the ground, as you scooted back just by a few inches, your calves latching behind his back before you shook your head.

“What?” He asked, bending his arms to get closer to you.

“Position. It’s…” The soles of your feet met the edge of the table, your hands securing your legs in position before you felt your hips hurt.

“Bend them to your shoulders,” he suggested, helping you fix your knees with his elbows. “Good. Can you touch yourself for me, Giggles.”

You obeyed without even replying, feeling him groan as the new position allowed him to reach deeper and rub your g-spot in the process.

That’s when the squealing started. And then there it was, pleasure. Right before you.

“Give me all the giggles, my sweet berry,” he cooed, nodding and smiling once the soft laugh started.

He let himself grow wild, his fingers sliding to your neck, gripping it gently before he led them against your chin and into your mouth, bathing your tongue in cream — or rather, what was left of it.

The other hand secured your waist, using it for leverage as he rammed into you, pushing his cock in your cunt, constricting it after the muscles remained tense after the orgasm.

This time he came inside you, still covered in latex, but inside you.

He was too fucked out to think of how you would feel without a condom, too fucked out to care that he was pressing his mouth — fuck, his entire face — against your dirty chest, getting his hair sticky with cream, his cheeks and chin and nose and eyes and forehead… His mouth welcomed the sweetness, sucking at your skin before his tongue came out to lap at the sugary mess. He was too lost to care, sinking deep and staying perfectly still as he enjoyed every second of his high inside your most intimate place.

You came to your senses just in time to watch him process the situation he was in.

“Oh, hell.” He rose from the table, standing up, looking at you, at his hands, running the back of them against his cheeks before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He settled down again, your legs wrapping around him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, rubbing your palm against his spine.

He hummed in confirmation. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You mussed up the hair at his nape.

He licked up your nipple, catching it with his lips and suctioning it into his mouth.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the cuddles. From the exhaustion radiating from his body and the overall disaster you both were, you knew your night was over.

“Can I go clean up please? It’s getting chilly.” You asked, using the excuse to get some space to yourself.

He stood slowly, slipping out of you attentively. He took off the condom, completely lost in his silence, knotted it up and kept it carefully between his fingers as he slipped on his underwear. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Once he showed you the way, you let him understand you didn’t want him to shower with you.

Feeling the scent of his body wash cover your skin was painful now. You tried to indent the name in your mind and hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Once you managed to exit the shower stall, you dabbed your body dry, realising too late that you hadn’t brought your dress with you.

You wrapped the towel around you and opened the door, walking out once you were sure you wouldn’t drip over the floor.

“Hoseok?” You called.

Once you reached the living room, you found your dress, slipping it on and realising a second too late that your panties had disappeared.

“Giggles?” Hoseok appeared from the corridor, still shirtless, with a pair of bermuda on.

“Uhm… I should… Go, I guess?” You said, staring at the floor awkwardly. “I…”

Hoseok felt fear grip him once he thought this could be the last time he would see you.

“Wait. I—” He stretched his hand toward you. “I think— Uhm, underwear. Since I messed up yours.” He rubbed his nape. “I could wash your… panties and return them to you… Next Friday?” He looked up at you with a sheepish smile. “Over fried chicken and a chill dress code?”

Your cheeks shot up as you felt yourself smile. “So this is not a one time thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

You nodded, increasingly convinced.

You gingerly wore his boxers, noticing they were relatively comfortable on you, the cotton breezy and light, definitely soft over your abused skin. “Then I’ll return these on Friday. Over fried chicken and chill dress code. And maybe my peach frilly undies?”

“It’s a deal then, Giggles.”

“Deal.”

[angeliise]

Day 1- The Beginning of Us

If you had told me this was the beginning of the end, I would have believed you. 

If you had told me that this was the beginning of us, I wouldn’t believe you. 

I didn’t want to believe you. I didn’t want to believe you because… it would mean that I could have my happy ending. 

And I couldn’t believe that. 

He had done it. He knew that Itachi’s corpse was slowly withering away next to him, but that’s all he saw before his own eyelids shut down. He couldn’t say he was happy. But he wasn’t sad either. If this was the end, then so be it. Let it be the end of the Uchiha Clan. He had avenged his Clan, his parents… and yet… he hadn’t done anything for himself. 

He had avenged the Uchiha in him. But he was Sasuke. His name was Sasuke. Tsk, why did he stress over that? 

Because your name is Sasuke, right? 

Hn. He was going to die here, anyway. This was the end. And he was okay with it. At least he was far away from Hinata. He knew… Sasuke knew that if Hinata had any chance of reaching him she could abandon all else just for him. That was who she was. That was what he knew her for…

That was what he loved her for. 

And he was happy that he, at least, wasn’t going to get in her way anymore and worry her endlessly. 

Hinata… And to think he was going to die, knowing that his name was worth something outside of being an Uchiha. 

____________

~ 9 years ago

Sasuke fiddled with a pebble in his hand. He was sitting at his usual spot by the river stream in Konoha. 

“Uchiha Sasuke. Got nothing but his clan’s name going for him”

“The lone survivor of the Uchiha Clan.” 

“An Uchiha, huh? Tsk, he’s probably full of it.” 

“Uchiha… Sasuke?”“Uchiha Sasuke?! He’s so cute! Everyone knows who Sasuke is, he’s an Uchiha, afterall!” 

“Uchiha”

“Uchiha” 

“Uchiha”

He was nothing but a name to them. A name that wasn’t even his. A name that didn’t speak for who Sasuke really was. A name that- Sasuke vehemently shook his head. He was a proud member of the Uchiha Clan. Being a part of the Uchiha Clan was one of the highest honors any shinobi could ask for. And he was one. The Uchiha’s were revered as being one of the most powerful Clans. Their Kekkai Genkei, Clan secrets, clan techniques were all highly sought after by enemies. He was going to restore the pride of the Uchiha Clan, and remind everyone that the Uchihas continue to be a fearful force to be reckoned with!

*Quak, quak, quak* 

Sasuke launched the pebble into the river stream, scaring the ducks away. Tsk, there shouldn’t be any ducks in this snowy weather. He sat down, knees against his chest. 

Sasuke! I’m going to defeat you, dattebayo!

“Sasuke-kun! Erm… I… You know, I… I lo-”

“Sasuke-kun, well done. I expected nothing less from a member of the Uchiha Clan” 

He was nothing but his Clan’s representation for them. His name, his being, his existence was nothing if it weren’t for his Clan’s name. If it weren’t Uchiha, it was (Uchiha) Sasuke. Never Sasuke. 

“You’re nothing but a Hyuuga snob!” 

Huh? Sasuke turned his head in the direction of the voice. Out of curiosity, he followed the cries of a girl in the name direction.

“Look at those eyes! They are so creepy!” One said. 

Sasuke was hiding behind a tree. He peeped his head and spotted 3 boys surrounding a girl on the floor. As he squeezed his eyes to get a better look of her another one spoke.

“I know, right?! Who do the Hyuugas think they are? Parading Konoha as this prestigious clan when they look like this?!” 

“T-That’s not- Ah!” A palm flew across her cheek. 

“Shut up! You are no better than the Uchiha Clan.” 

….

“Yeah, good riddance to that Clan. They were nothing but a bunch of snobs!” 

“Yeah, your clan should be next.”

“N-Next?” 

The boy closed in on her. Hinata crawled away until she came to a stop thanks to the third boy. 

The boy in front of her threw a malicious grin her way. “To be massacred!” 

Ha ha ha!!

“H-How could you say such-” - “Haaa?! Didn’t I tell you to shut up!-” 

BANG..

BAM.

BASH! 

BANG!! 

BANG!!! 

BANG!!!! 

BANG!!!!!

She heard the blows. She heard the fists connect. But she felt nothing. All she felt was an overwhelming presence standing before her. When she opened her eyelids, the first thing she saw was a fan. A fan was all she got to see before the figure poofed in thin air. 

“Was that?...” Hinata looked to both of her sides, but nothing. She stood. Looking behind her, and then in front. 

He wasn’t there. She wanted to thank him. Had it not been for him, she would have been… again. Although premature, she raised her finger to her face. 

Byakugan!

Hinata couldn’t explain this desire to thank him. He had just saved her and  she was indebted to him. They would find all types of ways to isolate her and- found him! 

She ran, ran, and ran some more. The closer she got, the more desperate she became. She had heard from her mother about the Uchiha massacre. Though she never spoke to Sasuke, she never saw him hanging with anyone. He left as quickly as he came. He kept to himself during classes, lunch, break, activities - everything. No one, even his pursuers, knew anything about him. All they knew about him was that he was an Uchiha. All the things they said about him were nothing but a false image that his clan pushed to the public. His intelligence, his skills, his demeanour. None of what they said described the boy underneath the ‘Uchiha’ label. 

To be massacred!

[...] good riddance to that Clan.

They were nothing but a bunch of snobs!

As if she wanted to shut her ears out, Hinata’s eyelids dropped. Such cruelty. And to think Sasuke heard that. A part of her couldn’t help but blame herself for this. She… she wanted to apologise. She wanted to thank him and apologise. She- “Sasuke-ku-!” 

*Thumb* 

Despite the throbbing pain in her knee, and the cold snow singing her face with cold, she scrambled to push herself up. In the moment she raised her head, she saw obsidian eyes staring into hers -- there was nothing. “E-Erm… I’m-”

“Go away.” 

She blinked. “Eh?” 

“If you thought I saved you, then think again. Now, go away.” He turned his heel and took a step forward. 

“W-Wait. I wanted to-”

In an abrasive, yet throbbing tone, he yelled. “Go home!” 

“S-Sasuke-kun-” 

“I said!” Sasuke said. With the twist of a heel, the spin of a body and… rain. Sasuke screamed. 

“Leave!” 

It had started to rain. Despite his insistence on her leaving. Despite the aggressiveness, sternness and furiness behind his tone. Despite the frown on his face. Despite every single body part that said otherwise, his eyes did not lie. His eyes were wavering, shaking, and defeated. 

Hinata stood. 

Clank

Clank

Clank

Clank 

Clank

“But,” she raised her hand and slid her finger from his chin up to his eyes, “you are crying.” 

In a jittery tone, Sasuke uttered a silent ‘huh?’ 

Hinata wiped another tear from his cheek, and then another one. She didn’t stop until the tears were no more and his face dried with the remnant teardrops. A tiny whimper escaped her petite lips, and before she knew it, her cheeks felt the imminent streams of water flow down. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered in a low cry. Her fingers were still rubbing his cheeks clean of nothing. 

___________________

That had been the beginning. 

___________________

~ 6 years ago

At a faraway grassfield, lay an upset Sasuke. Yet another fight with Naruto. Yet another headache from his fangirls.. Yet another day has passed and he wasn’t one step closer to the power thanks to his useless sensei, Iruka. There was no one Sasuke could rely on. No one that wouldn’t run him off with their… way of being! No one. Not even -- No, especially that girl. 

She would always sit a row behind him, stand close to him during lineups, and volunteer to be his sparring partner when the fangirls weren’t looking. And when she wasn’t chosen, she had that look of concern. Why she would go through all this trouble is beyond him. 

Since that winter day, she wouldn’t leave him alone. No matter how many times he had told her to leave, she would just stand there with that look. A look that he couldn’t read no matter how hard he tried. He knew she was always somewhere lurking, and he couldn’t understand why. He never did anything for her. Nothing! 

Who is this ‘she’? Sasuke didn’t know himself. He never bothered remembering her name. Why would  he want to remember her name, anyway? She’s a nobody. She’s nothing to him. She’s a Hyuuga-- Hinata--. She’s weak. She cries too much. She’s, she’s, she’s-!

“Oi, Hinata! Why are you standing over there?” 

“E-Eh?” 

~ Moments later 

An exacerbated sigh escaped Sasuke’s lips as he felt every nerve in his body relax- 

“Sasuke-kun, well done. I expected nothing less from a member of the Uchiha Clan” 

Or not. 

“Hinata,” he started.

“What does my name mean to you?” Hinata finished. 

Sasuke threw a sharp look her way. 

A tiny smile arose on Hinata’s face. “You always ask this question when you are upset, Sasuke-kun.” 

One thing he couldn’t stand about Hinata was the simple fact that she knew him well. A little too well. He was angry, or so he thought he was. Actually, he couldn’t be angry. He had never gotten angry at her. He couldn’t get angry at her. No matter how much he tried. She was no different from the fangirls with all the stalking, so why would he open his doors to her? Why was she the only person he could- he didn’t want to finish that sentence.

“Hmph! That wasn’t what I was going to ask.” 

Hinata giggled, bringing her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes, lamenting on the day he saved her from the bullies. Ever since then Hinata has tried to find a way to owe him the favour. But she didn’t know how to… is what she kept telling herself for years. She knew how to owe him back. She could buy him a month's worth of tomatoes. She could cook him all his favorite treats. She could do so much for him, but what she wanted to do- what she wanted to be for him- was a person he could shoulder his burden on. 

Why? Her shoulders shrugged. She didn’t-- her eyes fell on Sasuke whose eyes were closed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt her cheeks heating up. 

Hinata’s head fell a tad bit. Who was she kidding? How was she any different from the fangirls that pursued his every move. She was no different from them. She would say she was worse than them because of how persistent she was, but… how couldn’t she think she was different when he--

“You’re blushing again.” 

-- when he is this way! Unlike the others, he would let her stay by his side. Unlike the others, he would let her talk to her and actually listen to what she has to say. She never did anything for him. She has yet to thank him for-- wait! She never even thanked him for saving her that day! She-

“But really,” Sasuke said, sitting up.

“H-huh?” 

This time Sasuke locked his eyes with hers. “What does my name mean to you?” 

“Your name… means a lot to me.” She smiled. Sasuke was taken aback. 

“You saved me. But that’s not the only reason. That day… the day you cried.” Sasuke winced, tightening his fist. “I just couldn’t leave you alone-”

“Why?!” He lashed out. “Everybody is the same, after all! Everybody sees me as nothing more than an Uchiha who needs coddling!” He looked down at Hinata who was getting up herself. 

She closed the distance between them in seconds. He watched as she raised her finger to his cheeks, making her way up to his teary eye. 

“That’s not true.” She whispered. 

“You are no better than the Uchiha Clan.” 

She wiped another tear as another fell. “That’s not true..!.” 

“Yeah, good riddance to that Clan.”

The words were sharp yet voluptuous. More tears kept falling and vision became blurry. “That’s not-!” 

“Hinata.” She felt a warm hand upon hers. “That’s enough.” 

“B-But. What they said was mean!” 

“That’s-

“No!” She shook her head. “I… I… I’m so happy I got to meet you in this lifetime!” 

…..in this lifetime...

….this lifetime…!

….lifetime!

________________________

“Lifetime, huh?...”

_________________________

~ 3 years ago 

The night was particularly quiet. But that figures because Sasuke was about to leave her-- Konoha. He was about to leave Konoha. 

The note he held in his hand would do the job, he thought. It didn’t need more. She would understand. Hinata would- 

I’m so happy I got to meet you in this lifetime!

The sleeping princess in front of him was glowing in the moonlight. He knew he owed no one an explanation. He knew that he had to do this. He knew that he couldn’t- Sasuke knelt down and took his time to take in every last detail he could. This would be his last time. This would be the last time he would get to be this close to her. He drew her hair strands away from her face. The knuckles that caressed her cheeks as he did so felt warm against them. 

Hinata. The only one who seemingly cared about Sasuke as a person. The only person who saw him for who he was. Someone that even he didn’t know. This was going to be the last. He gave her small hand with the note a tiny squeeze before standing up. 

“Thank you,” he said as he turned around, “Hinata.” 

________________________

Sasuke couldn’t feel anything around him. Not the concrete his back was leaning against. Not the blood dripping from his forehead, not the pouring raindrops on his skin, nothing. He couldn’t hear any of the outside world. That is what he said against the warm source around his chest.

“-uke-kun!” 

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything with his chakra levels being so low, so why? 

“Sas… kun!”

Why was she here?! 

“Sasuke-kun! Stay with me!”

Why?! He felt the droplets of rain tip against his eyelashes. That damn Hyuuga! He didn’t want to. He didn’t care! He didn’t want to see that face. He had resigned to a void of eternal darkness as his final moment. So, why? Why did his eyes flutter open to find a concerned Hinata desperately wording his name in tears? 

It hurts everywhere. 

“Sasuke-kun, stay with me!” 

Why? Why are you crying? Why do you always do this for me? Did she not read the note? Did the note slip away? Why? Why, why, why?! 

Her eyes hadn’t changed. That same look that she used to give him for years. That look that he couldn’t read in all those years. Why, what were those eyes that were tearing huge drops of water telling him? 

“Hinata… why?” 

“Why?” She repeated with her shoulders trembling. “Because,” she locked her eyes with his, “because…” she bit her lower lip. “Because I love you!” 

Despite his weakening body, Sasuke felt a heavy pump in his heart. 

“Sasuke-kun, you’re mean. What was that note? ‘Don’t come for me’? Why wouldn’t I come for you? When you let me into your world, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be a burden to you! That I wouldn’t make you regret it and yet… you left. I… I…!” 

Sasuke pushed through the aching pain in his arm to reach for cheeks. He wiped as many tears as he could in the moment that was filled with Hinata’s low whimpers. “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not- I! I-” Her words were cut short by the sudden push she felt from behind her head, and before she knew it her face was pressed against his chest. 

“Thank you.” 

“Eh?...” 

“Thank you.” 

Hinata felt another set of tears stream down her cheeks. She gently wrapped her arms around Sasuke’s back. She began the healing process again. “D-Don’t die, Sasuke-kun. Please… don’t die.” 

He stroked her head. “Hinata...” 

Hinata raised her head to find- a tear from above dropped to her cheek. 

“Thank you.” 

___________________

Thank you for reading ^^

@sasuhinamonth

[stiltonbasket]

See, I'm the terrible person who would ask for a kidnapping situation in the Renouncement verse regardless of Sizhui's feelings on the matter =D

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

When Wei Wuxian opens his eyes, he is dimly aware that the last time he was conscious, he was somewhere else. 

In fact (unless he is very much mistaken) he was out on a night hunt with Sizhui and Jingyi; the three of them went to investigate a demon boar near the border between Gusu and Zhoushan, and Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling both joined them there. Wei Wuxian went scouting ahead with Chenqing as he usually does, cautioning the juniors to keep back until he could get a good look at the beast and decide if it was something the boys could safely defeat, and then he remembers slapping at the back of his neck to kill a biting insect and finding a silver needle there instead. 

And then the world went black around him, dissolving into a shadowy realm of pain and invisible snarling creatures only a few feet away, and someone laughing—laughing from somewhere high above him, while Wei Wuxian lifted his feet to run and discovered that they were chained to the ground. 

And after that, there was nothing. 

“Lan Zhan?” he croaks, reaching out until his hand catches on soft silk and then at the end of what feels like his husband’s forehead ribbon. “Lan Zhan, where are we?”

Someone pulls back a curtain, at that, letting so much light into the room that Wei Wuxian covers his eyes, and someone else bursts into tears, while a third person (most likely Jingyi, he decides) flings himself out the door and yells for Lan Xichen. 

“Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian moans, vaguely aware of the quivering hands helping him sit upright against a pillow. “Not so loud, I—”

I’m in the jingshi. 

How did I get back here…?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says—and oh, Lan Zhan is here, climbing up onto the bed beside him and embracing him so tightly that Wei Wuxian can scarcely breathe. “I should have come with you, I should have known something would go wrong!” 

He must be the one who was crying, Wei Wuxian realizes, because tears are trickling onto his head, and every part of Lan Zhan’s body is shaking so hard that he can feel it through the six layers of robes his husband seems to have wrapped him in.

“Tell me where it hurts, xingan. We bandaged the bites, and the scratches, but I—I could not wake you to ask if anything else had gone wrong, even though Xiongzhang was certain you were only in shock, and you—”

“What happened?” he manages to say at last, after forcing his eyes fully open and glancing around their bedroom. Lan Qiren’s shadow is just visible behind the privacy screen, sitting at Lan Zhan’s qin with his hands frozen on the strings and so clearly relieved that he has actually begun to slouch a little, and Wei Wuxian can hear Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling shouting at each other (or possibly at some poor Lan healer) on the porch outside. “A-Yuan and I went after a demon boar, not—not—”

“You were kidnapped,” his husband whispers. “Someone had lured the demon boar out of Zhoushan and into Gusu territory to trap you, they knew I was away in Qinghe with Xiongzhang, and so you were stolen away the moment you left Sizhui’s sight in the forest. He heard footsteps leading away from the spot, but he thought they were yours, and so—”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense, Lan Zhan. How did they even get hold of me?”

“Xiongzhang found a needle-prick in your neck,” Lan Zhan tells him, as Wei Wuxian puts his hand up to feel for it. “It was laced with some kind of seizing poison, he said. And the dose was low enough for a non-cultivator to be affected by it, which means that they knew about your golden core.”

That would explain it, certainly, because when Wei Wuxian woke in that other place—the place with chains and slavering beasts and cries that sounded like they came from human throats, though they were not human in the slightest—someone had said something about his golden core, from far overhead so that he could scarcely hear it, and then there were teeth sinking into his arms, his shoulders, right before he thrust his hands straight into something cold and sticky like old rotting meat and closed his hands around bone. 

“Come back, sweetheart,” he hears his husband call. “I’m here, Wei Ying. I’m here.”

“How did I get out?” he asks, when Lan Zhan brings him a cup of mint tea to settle his stomach and produces another blanket from his sleeve to drape around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. “And who kidnapped me, anyway?”

“Someone whose father and grandfather died at Bu Ye Tian, from what we discovered. There were many others involved, all with grievances against you, and from their accents I believe some might have been connected to Lanling Jin.”

“...You mean you don’t know for sure?”

“They attempted to stand in my way when I reached the place you were being held,” Lan Zhan tells him. “I—did not see any reason to preserve their lives, at the time. The few who surrendered were questioned by Nie Huaisang, and we thought he would turn them over to Gusu Lan to face justice, but instead he requested Xiongzhang’s permission to execute them.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. “And Xichen-ge let him?”

“Do you know what they did to you?” Lan Zhan asks, instead of answering the question. “Can you even remember?”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you know I have a terrible memory. I barely even remember the last siege on Qishan, because of all the resentment I was channeling, and it couldn’t have been that bad if you—”

“They threw you into a cellar filled with fierce corpses and left you there to die,” his husband chokes, openly weeping now as he pulls Wei Wuxian back into his arms and sobs into his hair. “You—they had gagged you, so you would not be able to whistle—” and that explains the strange raw feeling of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, now that he thinks about it— “and they left Chenqing behind on the spot where they took you, because they could neither break it nor take it with them, and you had nothing to fight the corpses with but the leg bones you tore out of the rotten ones—”

He does remember that, oddly enough. 

“How did you find me, then?” he wonders. “How was there even time?”

“I was already on my way back to the Cloud Recesses, and when I reached it I found Shufu and Xiongzhang arranging a search party. “Sizhui summoned Wen Ning, and I followed. It was—when we reached you, it was almost—”

His face twists, and another river of tears drips down his face and soaks Wei Wuxian’s blankets. 

“I almost lost you again, sweetheart,” he whispers, “and it was my fault, again.”

___

Several hours later, after Lan Xichen examines him and declares him perfectly healthy aside from the bruises and corpse bites, Wei Wuxian finally makes his way to the kitchen table with A-Yu whimpering in his arms and sinks down onto a bench while Lan Zhan prepares a serving of plain white egg congee with tiny slivers of diced meat in it, seasoned with only salt and pepper because Wei Wuxian had been sick when Jingyi and Sizhui brought him a bowl of his favorite spicy guqiao mixian earlier that afternoon. 

He would have loved to soothe the uneasy feeling in his chest by burning it out with chili oil, but his stomach had rebelled—probably because of the corpse-stench he spent hours breathing last night, Lan Xichen suggested—and denied him that comfort, too. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, rocking his son back and forth as Lan Zhan puts a spoonful of warm porridge between his lips and then feeds some to Xiao-Yu. “See, your Papa made congee for us, Yu’er. Be a good boy and eat some, ah?”

Xiao-Yu turns his head away and wails into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “No! A-Yu wants noodles!”

“Xiao-Yu, baobei, it’s been a long day, and Papa is very tired,” Wei Wuxian pleads, picking up the spoon himself and holding it up to the baby’s stubborn mouth. “It’s good, sweetheart. Try some.”

“Hush, my love,” Lan Zhan says quietly. “You must eat enough, Wei Ying, since you have had nothing since last night. Wait here for a moment, and I will fetch the noodles. He wants the guqiao mixian A-Yuan brought, that is all, and there is plenty left over.”

And he was beside himself when his A-Niang did not come home, no matter how much he cried for him, Lan Zhan doesn’t say. He watched his own mother die before you adopted him, and when Jingyi returned alone...

“I won’t go anywhere again,” he promises—close to Xiao-Yu’s tiny ears, but with his eyes fixed on Lan Zhan’s. “A-Die won’t leave you, A-Yu. Don’t be scared, hm?”

“Xiao-Yu was scared!” the toddler sobs, rubbing his button nose against Wei Wuxian’s arm and leaving a damp trail of tears all down his sleeve. “A-Niang, no go!”

“I won’t, I won’t. Don’t cry, Xiao-Yu, I’m here!”

Lan Zhan pulls them both into his arms, at that, and the three of them sit together near the hearth until the porridge goes cold. Lan Zhan still insists on feeding it to them, though, and then on tucking them both into bed with Wei Wuxian sleeping in the middle so A-Yu and Lan Zhan can keep him warm.

(He loves his family so very much, especially in times like these.)

[rose7420]

Broken Crutches

A request from @laurenandloki! Enjoy!

Thor decides to take Peter and Y/n to Asgard for a visit, but they’re are tiny compared to the Asgardians. To add some fluff to this hahaa, Y/n could be on crunches to due a sprained ankle, so she had to stay in Thor’s room on a desk or something (they don’t want her to hurt her injury more). Loki knows that Thor brought some of the Avengers to Asgard with him, he just doesn’t know who he brought. Some of the servants tell Loki that Thor is with Peter, but hears talk that another human is in Thor’s room. So, Loki goes to check it ”introduce” himself. He walks in the room and sees a tiny girl holding two crutches to hold herself up. He startles her and says little remarks to make her scared. He walks closer to her. Y/n backs up and trips over her feet, causing her to fall and drop her crutches (the one breaks). Guilt breaks Loki’s heart as he watches this small mortal whimper in pain, not only cause of her ankle but because of the fear Loki has caused. He fixes her one crutch to show her that he means no harm. After she calms down, the two become really close and Loki becomes extremely attached to her. When Thor comes to tell Loki that she needs to go home, he refuses to let her go and legit runs away from Thor with Y/n cupped in his hands so that he doesn’t have to say goodbye😭😂🥺

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

Loki was bored out of his mind. Immortality gives one leisure and free time to spend however they like, yet, he could find nothing of his interest. That is until he overheard his servant’s speaking with the usual daily gossip that normally never held his interest. But today the mindless chatter did catch his attention.

“Have you seen the two mortals?” The shorter, dark-haired lady asked.

“Oh yes, they are absolutely adorable.” The taller, leaner lady replies.

Loki knew mortals were very small compared to the Asgardians. About two to three inches to be exact.

“I do believe that the boy is with Thor today, but I’m not sure of the girl’s whereabouts.”

Now, this information really catches his attention. A mortal girl who is all alone, and himself who searches for something to occupy his endless time.

Well then, it looks like he’s found himself some entertainment after all.

Loki walks at a brisk pace to Thor’s door, not very far from his own quarters. He opens the door slowly, making sure it doesn’t creak. He never viewed Thor’s room as big, but as he searches for the small girl it has never seemed as large in his life.

A small squeak perks his senses.

He glances to the spot it came from and his heart catches in his throat.

The girl is absolutely tiny. She struggles to stand up, leaning heavily onto one leg. He sneaks closer with her still unaware of his presence. He sees her bend down to pick up two wooden sticks, sticking them under her armpits to support herself. Crutches. They’re so short and tiny he wonders how such a weak gadget could hold someone up. Loki approaches the nightstand where she stands and looms over her.

“That looks rather uncomfortable,” Loki says drily. The small mortal snaps her head up to look at him. He reaches forward to pinch one of the crutches in his fingertips. The girl tries to tug it out of his grasp but even his fingers are too strong for her entire body’s strength. She gives up pulling and let’s go, falling down with a yelp of pain.

A pang of guilt shoots through Loki. Perhaps he went too far, he didn’t want to harm the little thing. He releases the one crutch and leans away, allowing light to fall upon her form. She crawls forward, dragging the other crutch behind her, and latches onto the one he’d just released. She hastily sticks it under her arm and moves to stand, but her hurt ankle gives out. She leans heavily on her right side causing the crutch to snap in half. With a cry of pain, she falls to the floor with a barely audible thump. Now heavy guilt rushes through Loki like a river. Even though she must be in immense pain the small girl backs away fearfully from his imposing form. Discernible whimpers escape her lips as she retreats. His attention is drawn away momentarily from the girl herself and onto the path she takes. Which is very close to the edge of the table. The drop is nothing to him, but to her, it would seem like jumping off a three-story building. Right as her hand finds no support to brace on she slips off the edge. Thankfully Loki’s quick reflexes save her with cupped palms catching her falling form.

Her form is oddly still on his palms when he brings her up to his eyes. He can tell by the rise and fall of her chest that she is still breathing, and he can sense her hummingbird-like pulse racing through the skin of his palm. He speaks gently so as not to startle her: “Little one, are you alright. I mean to cause you no harm.“

She slowly pushes herself up to a sitting position in his palms, whimpering with pain as she tenderly holds her swollen ankle.

“Oh yes, I forgot you are hurt, may I get a closer look?” Loki asks. She nods shyly, her form stilling as his palms rise higher to hold her directly in front of his eyes. She backs away as best she can but Loki stops her movements with a gentle but firm finger upon her back; he does not want her to harm herself anymore on his watch.

“Little one be still, I promise I will not harm you. I only need to see your ankle better, could you extend your leg out a bit more for me?” He says very softly.

She does as he asks. As he supports her tiny leg with the pad of his index finger she gasps.

“Am I hurting you little one?” He questions with worry.

She shakes her head no, and to his surprise speaks.

“It j-just feels g-good to get some weight off of i-it.”

Loki smiles, happy he can relieve some of her pain.

“Let’s wrap that ankle up, shall we?” He waits for no reply and lowers her down to the table where she previously was, nudging her off his hand using the opposite. He kneels as asks her to stick her leg out once again. Obliging the girl sits very patiently as he wraps her ankle.

Y/N was astonished by the man’s kindness. She had been absolutely terrified at first when he approached her, especially when his long, massive fingers gripped her crutch dwarfing it in their hold. But now as those massive fingers brush her ankle briefly as he wraps it for her, she fears them no longer and wants to be closer to him on this gigantic planet of giants. He finishes, tucking the last of the fabric into the wrap itself. She goes to push herself to stand but stops when she realizes she only has one working crutch. Loki realizes this too and without a word, he ducks down to search for it where it had fallen on the floor. A few moments later he presents it to her on a flattened palm. She reaches for it and tucks it under her arm with the other one finally standing to her full height.

“My my, you really are small.” The giant says as if he amazed by her lack of height. Y/N blushes at the comment and ducks her head.

“What is your name little one? Mine is Loki.”

“Y/N.” She says as loudly as she can.

“Well Y/N, would you like to go on a walk instead of staying in this dreaded room?” Y/N giggles and nods her head. Seeing as it would be a challenge for her to board his palm he asks if it is alright if he picks her up. She nods and stiffens at the immediate contact of his fingertips. Her body is weightless as he lifts her up, air rushing by her face blowing her hair around. He sets her gently in his palm waiting for her to situate herself comfortably before he begins to walk.

Later on….

Y/N and Loki lay on his bed, Y/N on his chest, and Loki’s long-form sprawled out comfortably. He reads to her and she finds the vibration of his voice very soothing. Her eyelids droop closed, on the brink of sleep. That is until Thor barges in with Peter held in his hand.

“Loki, it is time for Y/N to go home.” Y/N clings tighter to Loki’s shirt not willing to go back home just yet. She has found a liking to Loki as he has with her. Loki must feel her plea for security as his hand comes to cup protectively around her.

“Brother, give us just a few more days. There is no need for Y/N to leave now.”

Thor shakes his head in disagreement and steps closer to Loki.

“I am not in the mood for your antics, hand her here now,” Thor says sternly, his voice uncomfortably deep to Y/N. And loud.

Her world is thrown around as Loki rises from his relaxed position on the bed to standing defensively. Her world turns dark as Loki covers his cupped hand with the other, and then a very bumpy ride begins. And that’s when she realizes Loki is running. After what feels like a lifetime of bad roller coaster rides, Loki opens his hands bringing her directly in front of his green eyes. She watches his black pupil flick back and forth checking her over, occasionally glancing at her hurt ankle.

“Are you alright little Y/N?”

“It was a little bumpy, but I’m okay.” Loki smiles and breathes a sigh of relief.

‘Well then, we only need to wait out here a little longer before Thor cools down then we can continue our reading, does that sound okay?” She nods, but shivers from the damp cold air.

“Are you chilled?” Loki asks, not waiting for a response as he holds her firmly to his smooth, warm cheek.

Y/N melts with happiness into it, forgetting about the whole day and just relishing Loki’s protective warmth all to herself.

[youarejesting]

Daylight

[Full Masterlist]

Beta: @fluffy-fluffu @taegularities @xiaokoo​ (if I forgot someone let me know, some people were in anon) Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Fluff, fantasy, adventure, angst, scifi, Romance, mystery,  Words: 12.6K

Summary: When trying to find a place to sleep the reader finds an elevator that only goes down. When it reaches the bottom, the reader is met with a new world and new civilization. Have you found somewhere you belong or are you in over your head.

You were looking for a place to sleep. The train station had two areas: the new and improved station on the ground level and the old and abandoned level underground. The underground level was blocked off, but you needed somewhere to sleep. No amount of graffiti, rats or even kids with cans of spray paint could stop you. 

You slipped past the fence and headed down the stairs until you reached the old abandoned floor below. You could hear every footstep that echoed. With the limited light from the platform at the top of the stairs you could only make out outlines of pillars and benches. You would turn on a light but that would give your position away. 

While finding the edge of the platform you almost fell onto the tracks. Jumping down, you followed the wall till you reached the little maintenance rooms at the end of the long almost pitch black tunnel. You were hoping you could find one with either a power socket for your phone or a built-in phone to call out. Though who would you call? You were homeless, meaning you had exerted all other options and lost the ‘friends’ you thought you had.

Hand colliding with a doorknob -that would leave a bruise- you stepped inside and waited. Hoping you were alone but not able to guarantee, you had to work up the courage to turn on a light. 

Deciding to flip the light switch, you gave yourself a mental pep talk. After all, if you were to die anyway it wouldn’t matter if you exposed yourself to hidden demons, devils, ghosts, murderers, or crazies.

The place was empty and small. You saw an old-style computer, the type that’s all bulky and awkward in shape. The huge monitor had an ugly keyboard built in and a long wire leading to the mouse. What, was this built in the eighties? You assumed the motherboard was underneath as such.  

Turning on the light, you looked around intrigued - this place was clean, like seriously clean. This platform and train line had all been abandoned, so who was coming here to clean it? Even if it was a maintenance room, it was odd, and everything inside was old which made sense, except the elevator in the corner. 

The elevator gave many red flags: the fact there was only a down function, and the fact it seemed to be clean like the rest of the room somehow made it worse. You walked over and found a clipboard on the desk; eyeing the bin beside the desk, you noticed the empty can of coke. 

Someone signed off on maintenance just yesterday. Again, who was performing maintenance on an abandoned rail line? Especially on the vintage equipment. Turning to face the elevator, the proverbial curious cat inside you clawed at the thought of where the elevator would take you. Could it be another floor, a secret base, some machinery storage or perhaps, you thought morbidly, hell? 

Taking the chance, you pressed the call button for the elevator. The doors slid open, lights flickering on overhead and you heard the bell chime to indicate the elevator had reached. Stepping inside nothing seemed off at first glance. Pressing the down button, you waited as the elevator descended. It all seemed normal.That was until an entire floor length passed. 

You grew worried, you had been descending further than you anticipated.

The elevator continued on its journey downwards while you sat on the floor, now worried about what you would come across in the end. You had noticed the government symbol on the floor of the elevator and that made everything even more suspicious. But a part of you was happy you had somewhere safe -albeit cold- to sleep, even if it was an elevator.

When the elevator finally stopped, you saw twinkling lights in the sky which were lightening to a peachy color. It was like you were outside, but that was impossible. You had gone underground, you know you did, and even if you had somehow gone up, you would be on the city streets outside the train station, not in some beautiful parkland.

You stood there in awe, watching the sunrise, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scenery. Something you didn’t do quite often. You had been locked up in the safe confines of your room for a long time and it took being homeless to really appreciate nature and things it had to offer, like the rising sun. The air was refreshing and the sounds of the animals were mingling with the constant from the river in a calming harmony. 

You heard a sound and whipped around to look for the cause, when you heard a gasp. 

“Are you the Almighty?” 

Your heart hammered in your chest. The only thing you noticed was how sweet the voice was. Why was someone down here? This was getting weird, something was going on and you were scared to find out what it was.

Your eyes darted around trying to find the person down there with you when you finally saw him. In front of you stood the most beautiful person you had ever seen, ethereal and perfect. You knew you were pretty good looking, but your recent lack of home meant you weren’t as clean as you wished to be.

As you examined him further, you noticed little things like how his long brown hair was tied intricately with ribboned fastens, and peaking through the hair were two pointed ears. It was odd but the more you looked at him, the more you realized how inhuman he really looked.

He seemed to be looking at you the same way, studying your shorter stature and lack of pointed ears with a curious look on his face. You had seen elves before, in movies, the Christmas type and the fairytale kind, and you had to admit Legolas had nothing on this man.

His dark eyes sparkled bright like the stars as they examined you, “Hello, do you understand me?” His voice was so eerily soft, it caused you to shrink. He smiled at your reaction before speaking softly, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Where am I?” You asked this time, causing him to look shocked. His smile became wider, showing off his pearly white teeth.

“You do understand me.” He stepped forward, making you cower back at his advances. “What is it like in the heavens? Is this your vessel?” 

He grinned looking around you and at the elevator, smiling and tapping at it, “You must come back to the village and we will hold a celebration.”

He took your arm and led you through the trees. He didn’t seem to be rushed nor did he feel threatening in any wayHe just gently guided you along, asking you questions. He didn’t really give you time to answer before he started talking again. 

“Tell me, are you one of the Almighty? I have never met an Almighty before, we pray to them and they give us gifts from the heavens. I have only met elves and that is it. What is your name?” He turned and just as you were about to answer he continued, “My name is Jimin.”

The whole trip you learned a lot about Jimin, he was excitable, he liked to talk, listen when needed and he also liked dancing and being mischievous. He said the other elves ignored him because he wasn’t noble or rich. He wasn’t as well-bred as the others.

“You are so tiny, Yoongi will be happy, he is the shortest Elf you will ever meet. Well, I assume elves, where you are from, are quite tall.” He laughed.

“Um, I have never met an elf before,” you plucked up the courage to admit and his eyes turned to youIt was apparent that he was shocked. “Sorry.”

“So, Elves don’t exist where you are from?” He asked, watching you nervously shake your head. “That is so strange.”

As you continued walking, the sun rose some more and you began to notice a few more things that shocked you. You had realized the whole place was an artificial world. It seemed to go on for a fairway, you could just see walls of vines and greenery, but there were lights that simulated artificial daylight. 

The roof had screens showing a fake sky - there must have been UV lights as the trees and vegetation seemed to be growing well. Then, of course, there was the elevator shaft you had been in before: the further you walked along the road, the more animals, buildings and people you had seen. 

They turned to you, gawking at your differences and style of dress. To them, you must have appeared like a filthy child dressed in rags. To you, they were a beautiful community draped in the finest of fabrics. They were dressed in a style you could only describe as a mix between a Sari and a greek Toga. Even Jimin who told you he wasn’t noble or rich was dressed better than yourself. It was then that you noticed how big this underground ecosystem really was and on top of that, the people were all beautiful beyond comparison. 

They all looked scared of you, each tripping over themselves to show you around and lavish you in gifts. Jimin had rushed off once a noble woman had spotted you. He left you in her care, deeming himself no longer worthy of your presence. You watched how the elves lived and played with the children.

The tour of the village was long, your legs growing tired, merchants giving you fruits and tea. You were going through the town centre, walking between stalls. People busily rushing past. You caught Jimin’s eye. He seemed to be teaching something to some slightly younger elves, and when one fell, he helped them up and brushed off the dirt from their pants before giving some words of encouragement.

You met many people before you were taken to a small bathhouse to be washed and buffed, your hair was brushed and twisted into a beautiful hairstyle. The fabrics wrapped and draped around you were more expensive than any piece of clothing you had ever owned in your life.

Feeling cleaner than you had in a long time, you were led into one of the elaborate buildings before they sat you down, giving you food and entertaining you. They called for dancers and there he was, stepping out in silks and lace, spinning and leaping, moving as if  he was weightless. Jimin truly was beautiful. 

After his dance, he was ushered away and a woman stepped out, “I am Lady Adora and I am the leader of the village. I have brought to you some of the finest men. Pick any elf you wish, they are noble, each pleasing to the eyes and well educated.”

Was she trying to sell you a man? This seemed to be some weird arranged marriage business. You were led out from behind the dining table and asked to walk down the line, “This one is the eldest, Kim Seokjin - he is handsome and romantic, he has good heritage. Next is Min Yoongi, who is shorter than the average elf, but he is creative and enjoys the simple things.” Just as you thought, this was like the bachelorette and you were supposed to pick someone. Admittedly they were all gorgeous, it was insane. “Jung Hoseok is from a brilliant family of scholars and he has a cheerful disposition; he is friendly and caring.” Lady Adora continued.

“Kim Namjoon is a genius, he has a love for nature and is from a good family. Kim Taehyung is a little odd, but he is refreshingly curious and has equally refreshing features.” Your eye caught sight of the dancers; there he was in his soft silks and laces, peeking from behind a pillar. Behind him, some small elves also seemed to be peeking at you curiously.

He shushed them as you stepped up to the last young man, “This is our youngest, a very talented man, he is from a good family and he strives for perfection.”

“They are all very nice looking,” you said with a smile.

“Would you like to have them all?” The elf leader spoke up in confusion. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you backpedaled quickly, “I was just admiring their skills and beauty as you had described them to be, very handsome individuals with good backgrounds.”

You saw the dancer giggle into his bell sleeve and subconsciously smiled back at him. You were led back to the table and sat down, “You can choose any of the eligible young elves within the village, has anyone caught your eye?” Adora asked sitting beside you and handing you a drink. “You have plenty of time to decide. How about some more festivities? Dancers!”

Jimin raced back into the clearing of the dining hall. He knew he wasn’t a noble or anyone particularly worthy of being with an Almighty. The Almighties were the beings they prayed to in order to receive gifts from the heavens. This Almighty was a gift from the heavens for the people and he knew that she had to be treated favorably, so as to please the Almighty.

Jimin had never seen anything like you before, your beauty was subtle, hidden but under the right circumstances you bloomed like a flower. He enjoyed watching your expressions as he danced. It was the reason he chose to dance, to make the Almighty happy with each performance.

“He dances so well,” you smiled; he could hear you and a part of him hoped it was you he was talking about. “The one in the black and red silks with the red lace.”

“That is Jimin, would you like him?” Upon hearing Lady Adora offering him of all people, he stumbled and the music stopped.You rushed out around the table, but he was already scurrying into a bow as if he was begging for his life. Sitting on his feet, hands flat on the floor and his forehead touching the ground. He did this whilst crawling backwards away from you.

“Jimin,” you whispered, lifting his head. It was cheesy how his heart fluttered in his chest when your eyes locked on his. His mouth fell open, he believed he saw you blush, his breath caught in his throat. Did he say your beauty was subtle? He was wrong.

“I am sorry, I will go repent,” he said, bowing low again.

“Please forgive Jimin, he must have been light-headed,” Adora said as if trying to calm you. He never believed in the elf’s stupid idea of love at first sight, but there he was, in love. 

Taking his hands in yours, you lifted him and guided him to the table. He almost choked when you tried to make him sit in your chair. Jimin dug his feet into the ground when you tried to lead him up the steps to your seat. He felt uneasy with the whole room watching him struggle and eventually sat down on the step below you, graciously accepting the food and drinks you offered albeit embarrassed. 

“I am sorry that I didn’t perform well,” Jimin spoke sadly, his ears and cheeks aflame. “I will make sure to be better next time.”

“You are a beautiful and elegant dancer and I enjoyed watching the way you moved to the music.” Your words sounded so warm and the accent was unlike anything he had ever heard. His brain got past your voice and caught up with what you had said and he ducked his head from how red his cheeks had become.

“You are too kind, I-'' He was cut off by Adora asking if you had decided on an elf. You leaned over to Jimin.

“Why am I supposed to choose an elf?” you asked. Jimin took a sharp breath, your hair had brushed his shoulder and he lost himself in your eyes, “What does choosing an elf mean?”

Jimin laughed almost in stitches. You didn’t know why these elves were being presented to you and he decided to explain it all before you had to choose. Because what if you chose randomly and didn’t like the elf? He wanted you to be happy. Even if a small part of him was jealous of the noble elves. You would be stuck with them together for eternity after all.

“Lady Adora, I think it would be best to explain to the Almighty why she is choosing a suitor,” Jimin prompted, lowering his head. She was a caring leader, but he still wanted to show her respect. Everyone in the community knew one another, and Lady Adora had practically raised him. Though elves could live forever, there had been times where elves had lost their lives. 

These times included when the Almighty would be angered and come down from the heavens and take those they wished, laying waste to anyone who got in their way. Jimin was familiar with this notion: his father had been the previous leader of the village - he had tried to stop the Almighty from taking some of the innocent elves. Jimin was  only a baby when he and a few other children were taken. 

Jimin’s parents fought hard, but they were both killed in the process for interfering with the Almighty’s plans. The children were returned, unharmed, but the damage was done. Jimin was orphaned. It was strange. Jimin was so young, so he didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed none of the children taken really remembered what happened either. 

“The Almighty will be blessed with any elf she chooses to spend the rest of her life with,” Adora explained smiling; it was amusing to see the realization on your face. “The elves will now demonstrate their specialty energy.”

They had magic, they were air and water benders or something. These were real Naruto jutsus. You were about to lose your mind. ‘Pick a husband, and guess what their secret powers are.’ That’s what she should have said in the first place. Jimin had almost wet himself, giggling at your expense when he realized you didn’t know what this whole celebration was for. They were celebrating you and apparently your gift was an eternal super hot elf husband.

“Who do you choose?” Adora asked and you froze. This had to be some sort of fever dream. The elevator collapsed on you and you died, the rats underground were probably eating your body as you dreamt this.

“Does everyone have powers?” You asked Jimin and he held out his hand where a glowing orb appeared, “What’s that?”

“I can heal things.” He smiled, healing being something he believed stemmed from his parents deaths. Cultivated with the hopes of never suffering loss again. “Do you want me to explain to Adora that you need more time?”

“We can have the boys answer some questions if you would like?” Adora seemed desperate.

“I think I will need more time to choose properly ” you said, squaring your shoulders definitively and Lady Adora nodded approvingly. 

“Excellent,” she clapped her hands, “you shall all get to know each other before choosing.”

The dinner and celebrations raged on filled with laughter and dancing, when Lady Adora spotted you yawning. You were guided to a room where you retreated for the night in a warm bed. 

You woke in disbelief. You weren’t dead in a collapsed elevator nor were you being feasted on by a group of rats. No, instead you were in the softest bed, feeling like you had just gotten the best sleep of your life. You sat up hearing a knock at the door, quickly straightening up and calling them in. 

A small part of you was scared that they would figure out you weren’t who they thought you were to be and they would kick you out or worse. Your memory was a bit foggy and everything seemed like a dream. It was hard to discern what was real and what might have been your imagination while you slept.

It hit you that this was all real, when they drew you a bath. They filled it with soft petals and took it upon themselves to help you wash once more - it almost seemed like overkill, you were scrubbed and polished just yesterday. Did you really need another thorough clean?

Dressed in the most delicate of dresses intricately tied around your waist and neck, you spun, watching the skirt flutter around you. You were giddy, wanting to sing and dance. It was such a drastic change. The community seemed so welcoming and gentle, they had no negative thoughts or intentions. 

They guided you to the town square which had been decorated in flowers. The boys were walking around with baskets of flowers, some sitting making flower crowns intricately and you skipped after Jimin, who led you to a beautiful meadow by the river. The hem of your dress was bouncing slightly with every step. You crouched beside him, looking at the flower crown he began making. 

“Wow! That’s pretty. Can you make me one?” you grinned; Jimin spluttered and he looked at you in shock. Had you offended him? “I’m sorry.”

“No, you did nothing wrong, it’s just flowers are a big part of courting in elf tradition, if you accept the flower crown, you accept the elf as a prospective partner. Or at least you like them enough to dance with them during the flower festival.”

You hummed in thought and grinned at him, “I like you enough to dance with you, unless you want to give it to someone. Then I won’t bother you”

“No one usually dances with me?” He laughed, more to himself, “Last year I danced with Hana. I think she did it out of pity and she didn’t keep time, so she stepped on my toes.”

“Oh no!” You frowned, “wait, I don’t know the dance?” 

He stopped looking up at you, you were fretting, “please teach me the dance!” You gripped his hands and he nodded, taking your hands. He led you away from the flowers in the small meadow and began explaining the dance and you nodded, paying attention. 

He tried to teach you the dance, giving you directions and laughing when you felt hopeless. He took your hands and guided you through the steps, humming a foreign tune. You were reduced to giggling something about the spins, the hand holding and the steps felt so good; you were so happy and giddy. 

You spun laughing and fell against his chest, he caught you, quickly placing you back to your feet and stepping back. “You are actually a really good dancer.”

“Maybe it’s because you are my teacher?” You smiled.

“If only you would look away from your feet,” he teased and you laughed.

“It's been fun dancing with you, I have never learnt a proper dance before,” you blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thank you Jimin.”

You kissed his cheek and ran off and spinning quickly to see his bright red cheeks. You joined the festivities, trying the food and even playing some of the games with the ribbons and hoops. 

It was time for the evening dance and the young eligible elves stood with their hands out, flower crowns intricately designed resting atop their palms. Weaved flowers of different sizes and styles in colours of pinks, blues, reds and more, held by confident and bored looking elves. Behind them a nervous Jimin caught your attention.

You watched as he looked down, it was hard to see the crown from so far away but the colour scheme seemed to be yellow, the ribbon to which the flowers were weaved was a shiny gold. Yellow flowers usually represent friendship, like Jimin calling out for someone to just be his friend. 

“Hey, Hana, are you going to take Jimin’s flower crown this time?” One of the young female elves called in a hushed tone across the small group of eligible elvish maidens and yourself of course. 

“No, I did it last time because I felt bad for him” she whined. You felt disgusted that they were avoiding him.

“Whatever, someone has to make the first move,” the girls looked at each other nervously and you gently brushed past them and headed straight out onto the dance floor.

It seemed everyone was waiting for you to choose, stepping up to the first elf. You looked at the pink flowered crown in his hands; it was a little over the top and not your style. You saw his smirk and proceeded to step on, making a few of the other young elves laugh, Seokjin’s pointed ears turning red. 

“Seokjin, I thought you said no one could say no to you or your flower crown” they snickered. You continued. The next crown was almost falling apart and the elf ducked his head, apologising. 

“Hey, a crown doesn’t define you, people have different strengths. You are really smart from what I heard?” You smiled and moved through the lines, being polite and admiring their creatures, praising some and chatting with others. The purple crown was elaborate and beautiful, you smiled praising him. You would have taken it, had it not been for Jimin shuffling in the next row in your peripherals. You looked over and found him fiddling with his crown, pouting.

Thanking Jungkook, you stepped into the next row, not bothering to look at him any more and heading straight to Jimin. He was no longer watching you; he was staring at the floor, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Jimiiiin~” you smiled, spinning happily, “This is really pretty, can I see it?” 

He puffed up from your praise, getting a little bashful and held the crown up for you to see, “Oh this is lovely, Jimin, this is so pretty.”

“Thank you,” He was becoming more and more bashful, wiggling his shoulders cutely, scuffing his shoes on the stone.

“Can I wear it?” You asked, cupping your hands under his and looking up hopeful. You didn’t want to take away his choice on who he could give the crown to, but you also thought of him as your friend you were closer to than the others.

“Are you sure?” He asked and you nodded grinning. 

“Yes, but I don’t know how to wear these.Do you know how to tie them?” He laughed like sweet bells tinkling in the wind and it left you a little dazed and embarrassed, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“No, no, I would never,” he smiled, gently lifting the delicate flower crown onto your head, and taking the two ribbons, he began tying it behind your head. 

He was so close looking into your eyes as he tied it off and arranging the little flowers hanging strategically from the crown. Jimin’s crown was probably the sweetest looking, so delicate and intricate with soft petals or pale yellows and deep golds. 

You smiled and took your spots on the dance floor and the others did the same, the line of female elves and yourself facing the line of male elves and the dance began. Slowly you recited Jimin's teachings. 

Three steps forward, you  offered your right hand and he bowed, accepting the offered hand with both of his. While his right hand held yours, squeezing reassuringly, his left softly glided up your arm as he stepped behind you. 

His left hand slid from your left shoulder, down your back where he clutched your waist, trying not to giggle as he realised you were ticklish.. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you followed the routine, placing your left hand atop his. 

You looked down and he whispered into your ear, “Keep your head up, don’t look down, I will lead you perfectly trust me.” The feeling of his soft breath brushing the shell of your ear made you shiver. 

You felt beautiful and loved all from just one dance, it was like being the main character in a movie getting to dance with a beautiful man. He spun you and you were now facing one another, hand in hand, swaying and spinning.

You were exhausted from the dancing, your throat a little dry. You were met by Seokjin who handed you a drink. “Good evening, my lady, I apologise for not introducing myself sooner, I am Kim Seokjin, from the main house of Kim.” 

“Oh well, thank you for the introduction,” you smiled, taking a sip of the drink and Jimin looked awkward. 

“You have to choose an eligible bachelor and I thought it wouldn’t be fair unless we each got to spend time and get to know each other - so with that in mind I thought I could show you some of the fun games?”

“Uh sure, I guess you are right, it’s only fair I hang out with all of you equally.” He took your hand and looped it around yours, walking you away to the festival activities without giving you a chance to thank Jimin. 

Seokjin was hilarious, he took you to a small stall where there was fish in a tank and if you caught the fish, you got to keep it. You tried your best, but you were too busy laughing at Seokjin to catch anything. He was terrible and it was so comical, watching him fail his expressions over the top. 

You splashed water at him and he looked offended, he splashed back and you ran off before he could catch you. The two of you spoke, getting to know one another. Seokjin was really charming and handsome. He spoke to you about food and jokes and your cheeks ached from smiling, your sides stung from laughter. He stopped in front of a sweet scented stall, “you should try these - they are sugared roses, they are delicious.”

They were indeed delicious and he smiled at you, “it’s happening!” Seokjin took your hand in his bigger warmer one and dragged you along excitedly. 

“What’s happening?” You asked curious as to why he was running and he turned back grinning so childlike and pulled you along. 

“It’s the fireflies, come look!” He pointed at the sky and you saw it begin: the fireflies started to dance beautifully. It was amazing in all different colours and shapes and sizes; they spun together in the air, twisting and turning like a small galaxy. 

You felt someone standing behind you and smiled, Jimin was lost in the sight, “pretty.” 

“They dance to find love, that’s why every year in spring we dance as well,” Jimin said, “you will find love eventually.”

He handed you a small bag with a fish inside. It was white with a tail like a fan, tipped with gold and very pretty. “It’s a thank you for dancing with me.”

“Wait Jimin, I don’t have anywhere to put the fish.”

“Oh” he frowned, “I do, it can stay in my pond at home.”

“Well, then I will have to visit and take care of the fish,” you grinned, bumping your shoulder with his. Jimin was so cute. 

Once you woke and dressed your first destination was Jimin’s house to feed the fish. Jimin lived in a big house by himself and you were confused, “where are your parents and brothers and sisters?”

“They died when I was born.” He let out a soft sigh, the two of you sprinkling the fish food into the big pond out the back. There were about a hundred fish in different shades. He smiled leaning over to sprinkle another pinch of fish food, his hair dangerously close to the water, and you hooked your fingers around the tressels and tucked it behind his ear. 

He paused at the contact, shivering as he grabbed his ear, blushing. He let out a giggle, “Come on, let’s go see your new fish.” He brushed his hands on the lap of his midnight blue robes, standing and offering his hand to you. He pulled you up onto your feet and without letting your hand go he led you through the garden to another tiny pond where there were not as many fish occupying the small pool of water. 

But swimming in the water was the beautiful fantail fish Jimin had gifted you the night before. It was such a beautiful fish with its long tail fluttering in the water as it moved. “You are so pretty,” you grinned, gesturing to the fish food in the tiny heshen bag. “Can I?”

“Of course, she is very pretty. I couldn’t give you anything but the best, you are an Almighty. I put her in the tank with my oldest fish. I raised him since he was a baby, he is very calm.” This fish was also a fantail, but black with silver spots. Jimin held out the bag and you sprinkled the food out and he smiled.

“How old is he?” You smiled, watching the two swim around happily. 

“He turns thirty-five this year,” Jimin smiled, “Fish of this kind will often live till they are forty.”

“Wait, you can’t be over thirty-five, you look like you're twenty,” You scoffed, looking him up and down. He was quick to throw his head back and let out an adorable laugh, falling against you for a moment before picking himself up from your shoulder.

“I like that, Twenty, hahaha!” Wiping his eyes, Jimin ran away giggling, “I am sixty-five!”

“NO WAY!” You gasped chasing after him.

After feeding the fishes that morning with Jimin, you were sitting by the small fountain in the town centre, the people were cleaning up from the flower festival and the dance that night. It was a great night, but it was nice to see how the elves lived day to day. The festivals and celebrations were fun, but draining. Now no one was trying to wait on your hand and foot.

The elvish girls were giggling and quick to approach you, “Good morning, my lady. A few of us are all going to the waterfall, if you want to join in the fun.”

“Oh, that sounds really exciting,” you smiled, placing down the slices of melon Jimin had bought for you before he ran off to teach the young elfs. A disappointment filled you when you remembered you didn’t have a swimsuit. “But I have nothing to wear. What do you wear when you go swimming?” 

They giggled, grabbed you by the hands and pulled you towards the stalls in the market.It was an open lane that branched off from the town square. Stumbling into a marquee full of summer fabrics, they began offering you different options on what you could wear. You found something that resembled a bikini from the surface.

You smiled, showing the elvish ladies your selected swimwear.They went quiet and you wondered what they were thinking. But ultimately, this would be the most comfortable for you, it was what you were used to, so you were going to wear it no matter what.

Taking the fabric and following the group of elves, you trekked through the forest for a short while until you came across a small waterfall. The water was crystal clear and you could see the water running from a few pipes in the wall. There were a few tents where everyone got changed. You were helped by one of the ladies into the swim wear and she tied everything securely. 

Stepping out, the girls chorused ‘ooh’, making you feel a little self conscious - maybe it was weird to show this much skin. But they quickly forgot about what you were wearing and raced into the water. It was refreshing to swim, and you had to admit, your serotonin levels soared when you were splashing and playing with the elves in the water.

Some of the male elves were climbing the waterfall and jumping off squealing excitedly and you followed them. “Hey, you going to jump too?” The young male asked. His hair was braided entirely, so it was out of his face. “Come this way, it is easier to climb.”

He helped you up, guiding you the whole way, taking your hand to pull you onto tall rocks and placing your feet when you were determined to climb the smaller rocks. “You are so tiny, are you sure you can climb this one?”

As if his words had jinxed it, you slipped falling into his arms, your back pressed to his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. He turned you in his arms and looked at your hands feet and knees for any cuts, he saw the slight graze on your palm and looked guilty.”I’m okay,”

Taking your hand in his he kissed the abrasion and apologized. “I should have been more careful.” He wouldn’t let you climb any of the rocks alone after that. You were thankful when you reached the top.

“Hey Jungkook, what took you so long, you scared?” A deep voice called. When you stepped up onto the flat part of the waterfall, you noticed the elf’s eyes widen as he took your hand helping you across the rocks. “Are you going to jump?” 

The two were giving you tips and tricks on how to jump properly. It was a lot. “I will go first and you can see how it is done,” Jungkook grinned, “Then Taehyung can count you in.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling a little sick at the idea of dropping that far into the water. Jungkook jumped, whooping the whole way down and it made you giggle. Now it was your turn.

“I will count you in, okay? And then you jump,” Taehyung said and you stepped up to the edge and shuffled back.

“Wow, that is high!” Your heart was beating in your ears like a drum and you felt like your legs give out.

“Come on, you can do it!” Jungkook shouted from underneath you. It seemed everyone was cheering you on from the bottom and you turned to Taehyung and stumbled over.

“I don’t think I can do it” You said, grabbing his arms, “I’m a big chicken, I will just walk back down and everything will be alright.” 

He rubbed your shoulders reassuringly, looking you in the eyes, “Hey, listen to me, I know it is scary, but it is a lot of fun and safe and you will love it.” You looked at him, he had gotten rather close and his hand snaked around your waist. You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about the jump as you were lost in his expression. 

His grip around your waist tightened and he lifted you up, alarm bells ringing as he ran towards the cliff and you started screaming. The jump was scary, but the fall was amazing, for a second you felt like you were weightless in a void. 

Splash! It was all over in a matter of seconds. When you resurfaced, you smacked Taehyung in the arms, calling him a traitor and then laughing when he tickled your waist. “You are a butt.”

Jungkook and Taehyung were playful and the three of you were searching for shiny rocks in the bottom of the water. They even showed you a cool underwater cave where the three of you sat talking before you swam back out. You grew tired of swimming and went to sit in the shade, hoping you wouldn’t get burnt. Even though there wasn’t a real sun the UV lights still worked the same.

Laying out your towel beside one of the other noblemen that you had previously been introduced to, you sat down and smiled. “Hey, I am Y/n.” You gave him a tired sigh, laying back on the towel, “You aren’t swimming?”

“Nah, it’s too loud,” he laughed, not bothering to look at you. “Heard you jumped off the waterfall.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you blushed, “who told you that?”

“No, I mean I heard you.” He smirked, turning to look at you and you blushed. He was quiet and the two of you soon dressed and bailed as the rambunctious group had gotten too loud for you both. 

“Here, try this.” Yoongi handed you a few berries and smiled when you tasted them, “So, with this choosing thing, what are you thinking?”

“I am not sure,” you sighed begrudgingly, you were supposed to choose and you couldn’t leave them hanging forever. 

“Well, if I can be honest to you lady Almighty,” he said softly, “Man up and choose Jimin, it is obvious how much you are in love with him.” 

You were stunned. He took a berry from your hand and smirked, walking away. “Wait, come back here. What do you mean, I am in love with him?”

“Everyone can see your face light up when you see him and you flirt like all the time.” He shrugged, picking up a small string instrument and sitting on the porch of his home, strumming away.

“I do not flirt like all the time,” you mocked his tone, before trying to defend yourself by further saying, “I don’t even flirt like any of the time, it’s called being friendly.”

“Friends don’t get lost in each other's eyes. I saw you this morning on my walk, you were touching Jimin’s ear and that’s beyond flirting, that’s heavy petting,” he said and you blinked confused.

“I was tucking his hair out of the way so it didn’t get wet, since when has that been heavy petting?” you asked with a laugh, reaching out to Yoongi, “Seriously, I could touch your ears and it would mean nothing.”

“Hey, stop,” he commanded, cheeks bright red. You looked confused and he examined your confused face. “You do understand that an elf’s ears are an erogenous zone, like it is intimate to touch another elf’s ears.”

Heat filled your cheeks. “Oh no, I did that to Jimin, I must have weirded him out. I hope I haven’t touched anyone else’s ears-”

“You would know if you did,” Yoongi said, patting your shoulder, “Look, Jimin likes you too, I think he understands you didn’t mean it like that.”

You wanted nothing more than to apologize to Jimin, but instead, you kept your mouth shut in shame. He let you feed the fish and watched you curiously. “Is something wrong, you seem really quiet today?”

“It’s nothing, I just have just been thinking,” you smiled softly.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, if anyone has done something wrong, it is me.” You let everything spill out, “I want to apologize for doing things that might seem really intimate, I didn’t know that's what they meant, I was just trying to be friendly, cause you are my friend.”

“Oh, yeah sure, no I understand, I guess I thought, but nevermind.” He gave you a strange smile, “We are friends, of course. I have to go teach the kids dance this morning, I can see you later though.” 

You nodded, getting up quickly, “Maybe we can have lunch together?”

“Uh, I might be a bit busy,” he said, walking you out the front door and racing off and you just stood there, feeling kind of confused. Was it weird that you had addressed it? You hoped not.

Thinking that maybe you should read up on elf traditions and mannerisms etiquette and more, you headed to the one place that would house all this information.

The Library. 

What a library it was - there were floor to ceiling bookshelves and aisles and the books were all hand written and magnificent. “Good morning, My lady, can i help you find something today?”

“Yes, I want to know more about elves, the traditions, the etiquette, everything?” You hummed, “I mean I just found out yesterday you can’t touch an elf’s ears.” 

The man in front of you blushed and shuffled his feet, when you heard another voice, “Yeah, that’s something you should know.” The figure appeared from behind the bookshelves and smiled. “I mean between his book smarts and my street smarts well, we will have you thinking like an elf in no time.”

The two were indeed smart, Hoseok explained - his father was big on literature, but he often snuck off to Jimin’s dance lessons instead of studying. “The life of a scholar never stops, or whatever my dad says.”

You had finally learnt different holidays and aspects of life as an elf, it was kind of fun and you enjoyed hanging out with the two young elves. They followed you through the town, explaining things and making you laugh. 

“And that is the orphanage.” They gestured to Jimin’s home and you frowned, “It used to be the last leader's home but when they died their son was left orphaned and the house has become known as the orphanage.”

It was like a knife in your chest. You wanted to console Jimin, hold him and tell him he was loved, that his parents would be proud of him. There was nothing left for you on the surface, no one who you cared about or cared about you, but underground you had this connection with everyone you met.

Jimin was definitely avoiding you and you were worried as to why. He left you notes saying the fish had been fed and he was already at dance practice and that he was practicing for the night of the children. Hoseok and Namjoon explained that the night of the children was a feast in honour of when the elvish children that the Almighty had taken were returned safely. It was the anniversary of the reuniting of families. 

Each of the children who had been taken  participated in the celebration and Namjoon was dreading it. You were dressed in a beautiful violet coloured robe and as you walked into the feast just like last time, you were sat at the head of the hall. At a big table, alone. 

The dancers came out, some of the elves looking nervous. Seokjin was sweating, standing oddly with his arms in a twist, but once the music started and they all started dancing their moves telling the story. 

The elves twisted and turned in fabrics of sweet colours, they were swept up by other dances in black and dragged off stage, Jimin among them. When the other elves returned they danced and scattered off the small stage and Jimin walked out, his cream robes slowly falling as he went, revealing a thinner inner robe of black and he danced a solo, expressing his loneliness and sorrow.

You were crying, wiping your eyes with Lady Adora’s silk handkerchief, you watched as all the elves came back onto the stage and bowed. It hurt to see Jimin in pain, it was worse than losing your own family and perhaps Yoongi was right. When you love someone, they become your most important thing and right now, Jimin felt like the only thing you cared about. Without thinking, you spoke up. “I choose Jimin.”

They all seemed shocked, including Jimin who looked like he was about to pass out. You didn’t know whether he was excited or scared. You hoped he wouldn’t hate you for it, you really liked him and it was becoming clear how much he meant to you. 

If he could love you as well, you would be happy. Of course, if he said he didn’t want to be with you or seemed uneasy, then you wouldn’t force him. They all froze and you blushed self consciously, it felt like you had just declared your love for Jimin.

“I mean if you want to, that is?” You flushed, and he bowed looking confused.

“I would be honoured.” His hands were shaking and his face was heating up and you requested that he sit next to you at dinner.

It was odd. Jimin was still distant and you were trying to see him Very early one morning, you got up early and knocked on his door. He answered, seeming tired and he looked at you. “I am here to see my fish.” He nodded, allowing you in and you walked through his house to the backyard where the fish ponds were, watching him race off down the hall. You knelt by the fish pond, feeding them tiny pinches of food. You spoke softly to the fishes, looking for any sort of sign. “Has he said anything to you guys?”

Jimin reemerged dressed and hair brushed, you smiled softly watching him contemplate something internally as he watered the flowers. Tugging lightly on his sleeve and stealing his attention once more. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I um, wanted to know why you chose me?” He asked softly. You had noticed his habit of running his fingers through his hair a lot, and right now was no exception.

“I chose you because, as I said the other day, you are my friend, Jimin,” you answered honestly and his face fell, “I had taken my time to get to know the other elves, but since I met you we got along and since then have been running into each other often. You are kind and gentle. Out of all of the people in that room, you were the one I considered my dearest friend, and if there was anyone I would want to spend the rest of my life with, it would be you.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t mean to be intimate, you were just being friendly.” He seemed a little bitter about those words. You hadn’t realized that’s how he would interpret them that afternoon.

“Wait, you stopped hanging out with me because of that?” Your mouth fell open.

“You were flirting with me, you kissed my cheek and practically declared your interest in me when you chose me at the flower festival dance and you even came to my house to feed the fish and you touched my ear, what was I supposed to think!” He rampaged. “You then, after leading me to believe that you liked me a lot, told me that it was all a mistake and you wanted to just be friends.”

“No, I meant that I didn’t know the actions were seen as intimate and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so I told you I was being friendly at the time,” you huffed, standing in front of him, looking up at him exasperated, “not that I wasn’t falling in love with you. Cause I was falling in love with you and I got scared that my stupid actions would weird you out and drive you away. But then you disappeared, ignoring me and I realized how much I missed you and wanted to be with you for eternity. I realized that your life means more to me than my own. Because I love you so much, it scares me.”

“You love me?” He paused, eyes wide and you nodded, your throat dry, making it unable to speak. He suddenly came forward, cupped your face and kissed you desperately, like he had been waiting an eternity and you clutched his robes, not wanting him to let you go. He pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours, “I know I am not like the other guys, I have no fortune and I am not noble, but I will do everything to serve you and make you happy.”

“The fact that you care so much for me already means I made a good decision.” You smiled. “As long as you want to marry me as well, there is nothing in this world that can stop us.”

“You are going to have to learn how to dance for our wedding.” He grinned cheekily.

“I made you a bouquet, it is tradition. I hope you like them, they remind me of you,” Jimin began, explaining all the flowers and the reasons behind why he chose them. It was so early in the morning, but he had to give you the flowers before you were all dressed up, so it would be a surprise when you walked down the aisle.

“The little white ones mean innocence and purity.” He smiled pointing them out.

“The baby’s breath,” you nodded, waiting for him to continue, eyes scanning the bouquet for any other flowers you recognized. However, when he failed to continue his explanation, you lifted your gaze, suppressing a giggle. “It’s just what we call it, because it’s small and soft like the breath of a baby.”

“Oh, that does make sense,” he hummed and you pointed at the bright yellow Dahlias that highlighted the bouquet and he blushed. “This one represents a commitment shared forever by two persons, like marriage.”

“I love them Jimin. Thank you.” 

Jimin blushed and scurried off with his ears red. You were feeling giddy with excitement. If someone had told you two months ago, while trying to find a place to live, you would get married to a beautiful young man with a heart of gold - well, you would’ve outright laughed in their face. 

The ladies were practically squealing at the encounter between Jimin and yourself, but quickly sent him away as they had to get you ready. After all that he left with the bouquet, but the ladies said they would retrieve it later, once you were completely ready. You were soaked in a warm bath filled with soft flower petals and they began scrubbing you down completely.

“My lady Almighty, can I ask you a question?” You turned to the woman brushing through your hair, it seemed almost comical how many young elvish maidens were helping you get ready. They were all excited and trying to keep you calm, as today was the big day and she was smiling softly. Dressed in a soft sunset pink and each looking stunning. “Why did you choose Jimin? Is it because he is a good dancer?”

“If it were me I would have chosen Jungkook.” Another woman grinned.

“I think it was because he was nice and gentle. I saw him in the marketplace. He was kind and helped one of the other dancers who had fallen. It was very nice of him.” You smiled softly, “And then, he truly is an amazing dancer and he is really beautiful, he seems to be perfect inside and out.”

“We have never really seen him in this light, we apologize,” the woman said, twisting your hair into a beautiful updo, “I guess we were more focused on status and money.”

They helped you into your shoes and led you to the mirror. You gasped and tried to hold back the tears. You were wearing a beautiful white midriff top that had no sleeves and the fabric in the middle had been twisted to give a sweetheart effect. It was lined with a gold lace trimming and matched with what could be likened to the cutest pair of panties which were also white and gold. Then you were wrapped in the white silk with gold trimmings, twisted and tied in a way you had no idea how to create or get out of it. It made you feel ethereal.

The ladies were talking excitedly about how you looked so beautiful and how they couldn’t wait to see you get married. They were all giving you tips and revealing secrets about what elf men liked and disliked. You appreciated the help, never having the opportunity of dating an elf on the surface.

They were telling you about how an elf’s ears were sensitive and ways to use it to your advantage and you were a blushing mess remembering your encounters  with Jimin and the almost encounter with Yoongi. 

They started talking about the prospect of a child and how many you wanted to have, and when you honestly answered about always wanting a big family, maybe four or five at the minimum, they were shocked. 

“So many!” They squealed. “You are a promiscuous little minx!”

You blushed, giggling with the girls. They told you all about traditions and customs and different aspects of their little world. They were happy about being enclosed underground and part of you could agree, they were safe and protected from the harsh world and all the cruel people who lived in it. 

Like the drunk driver who killed your parents, leaving you orphaned and homeless overnight. Like the people who you thought were your friends, but eventually faded away making excuses to drive you away as it was embarrassing to hang out with someone who was homeless.

No, here everyone was part of a community.They worked together and you never wanted to leave. Not because they treated you so highly. No, it was much simpler than that, because they treated everyone with such kindness.

There was a knock at the door and the ladies all left quickly. You wondered who it was now, heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of the ceremony starting soon, taking deep breaths, trying not to think of the people that would watch you walk down the aisle or say your vows. Trying not to think about the possibility of Jimin saying no and you being forced to leave this beautiful paradise.

Shutting out all the thoughts you concentrated on Jimin’s declaration, “He wanted to make you happy.” Someone called your name and turning, you were met by two men, human men dressed in black business suits. “Come with us.” They grabbed you by the upper arms and began escorting you from the room and outside towards the elevator.

You were being forced to leave. Jimin smiled bashfully, you were a vision of beauty and felt his breathing hitch, stolen from him by your very being. “I am sorry, I forgot to give you the flowers…” It was then that he noticed you were being dragged away and he felt his heart break. Had he angered the Almighty, you were being taken from him. No, you couldn’t leave, you were supposed to be here for the rest of your life, happily married, but here you were, being ripped from his life. 

“Wait for me,” you pleaded as the doors to the elevator closed. It was a long journey back to the surface and you tried to keep your cool. Hoping you could return, it wouldn’t do to cry and ruin your makeup, it was your wedding day. Hopefully it could still be your wedding day. Crap. Now you really were crying.

No one seemed to understand that you didn’t want to leave. They were all apologizing that you had to go down there and you were feeling more and more annoyed as time passed by. You shuffled your bare feet, they felt cold against the linoleum flooring. They offered to get you some slippers, but you refused.

“You have to sign the non-disclosure agreement and then you are free to leave, but never speak of it to anyone,” the man said, gesturing to the paper. “Look, we will even give you all the  money you want, buy you a small home and give you anything you wish for. Just sign the paper.”

“I don’t want to leave, let me go back,” you pleaded. The man looked shocked, but that was it. You had thought they would finally let you leave, but it was after another thirty more minutes of questionnaire that they considered allowing you to go back down, and thirty more minutes for them to agree to it being permanently. 

“Alright, you can go back down, but we will revisit this case with the higher ups and they will make the final decision.” They sighed.

You were free to return. 

There was no escort, you headed back down alone. You looked at the mirror, everything was still as it was, not a hair out of place and you were glad the elves preferred soft and subtle makeup. That way, eyeliner and mascara weren’t really included - otherwise your face would have been streaked and stained with dark streaks.  

Once you reached the underground, you rushed out of the elevator; it was raining, a cold artificial rain, you running through the streets, still wearing your white dress as you called his name. Everyone poked their heads out to see what was going on. 

You frantically searched for Jimin, looking for any sign of him. Ripping off your shoes in the process as they had gotten stuck in the mud. Hope was dwindling - where could he be? - as the last resort was the wedding venue, and you ran to the courtyard out the front of the palace. 

There were empty seats with ribbons of white and gold, the aisle was long and you raced down, the petals sticking to the bottom of your bare feet. There he was. Waiting at the altar alone, a bouquet of white and gold, waiting patiently as you had asked of him. 

You ran to him, grabbing him by the collar without a second to hesitate and pulling him into you for a searing kiss. Or two. Or three. Apologising between kisses for having to leave.

“I am here and I love you. Let’s get married.” You grinned as he smiled. Lady Adora ran out into the rain, soon followed by more elves, each getting soaked. The two of you exchanged rings and he took your hand into his, saying his vows and you said yours. Lady Adora announced you married and guided you both out of the rain into the palace where a feast had been prepared. You were bathed and redressed into another outfit as you had been all muddy.

This had given who? time to cook and decorate, and when you stepped out again, Jimin was immediately by your side. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms and led you in a sweet dance. It seemed for his own benefit that he kept you close like he was consoling himself from the idea of losing you.

After a feast and dancing, Jimin took your hand and escorted you from the palace ballroom and to a room. He explained that Lady Adora had prepared it for the two of you to share for as long as you wished. He unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal a beautiful room, even more glamorous than the one you had previously stayed in. With soft white rugs and romantic flower petals strewn across the floor and fresh fruits and soft looking blankets. It all looked so warm and cozy.

But now you were hit with nerves, growing shy. You looked up at Jimin in all his beauty, “I um, don’t know how to undo this dress, they tied the fabric and I-” Jimin slowly stepped forward, watching your reaction. It was like your heart was going to explode out of your chest with how heavy it was beating. Your breathing was so shallow that when his hand cupped your cheek you felt your head spin. 

“You look so beautiful.” His hand gently took the fabric and undid the ties. You caught the dress right as it was about to fall off and blushed. Your hands were shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

“Are you going to undress as well?” Jimin blushed and started undoing his own attire. He walked you to the bed, all the while you clutched the fabric of your dress. He gently placed his hands on yours and let out a soft chuckle. He undressed you from the fabric and looked at the sweet undergarments you adorned.

Releasing a shaky breath, he smiled up at you. “You are beautiful and I am nervous.”

“I am shaking, I am so scared.” You giggled “I am scared that you will realize that you don’t want me and leave.”

“I could never leave you. I want you. Trust me.” He took your hand, placing it against his bare chest and you could feel his heart beating just as fast as yours. “I love you and this heart is now yours to keep.”

The first kiss was intense, full of passion and fire and you buried your hands in his hair playfully, brushing your thumbs across the tips of his ears.

If you thought taking off the dress was difficult, then putting it on in the morning was an even bigger struggle. You ended up having to ask for Jimin’s help. He blushed at your request, making you laugh. For he was now your husband and you had just woken up after your wedding night. But it was redressing that felt more intimate to you both.

You were embarrassed, the whole community was present in the palace hall for a celebratory breakfast. It seemed Lady Adora was ashamed that the plans for the wedding ceremony had fallen through. They showered you with gifts and the food was beautifully presented. Each family bowed and presented you with their offerings and well wishes. 

You spent most of the morning proceedings, fiddling with the ring on your hand, it was so shiny and delicate. With two entwining silver bands that in the right light reflected a barely there iridescent green the bands were shaped to look like ivy wrapping around a beautiful round yellow tourmaline.

It looked like a beautiful flower atop vines, and you were in love, there hadn’t really been time to admire the ring in the rain, but now you couldn’t stop looking at it, getting lost in the colours. Jimin’s hand gently laid atop yours, bringing you back to the present. It seemed the people were waiting for you. Jimin repeated the question quietly to you under his breath. “They are asking if you would like to stay in the palace or if you would like them to build you a more elaborate home.” Gently pressing his lips to your jawline, you nodded, pretending to be contemplating the question and not daydreaming. 

Jimin let out a bit of a giggle when he heard you hum. “Everything has been wonderful, and I would rather live in the palace amongst everyone, it is a piece of history.”

Lady Adora seemed pleased by this response and announced they would clean and refurbish the best room for you. The day was filled with choosing different fabrics and furniture styles, Jimin liked the more natural and floral themed items, especially the golden dahlias. As the room came together, it became the flower of the palace, the garden beds in the town square all filled with golden dahlias.

Custom clothes had been made for Jimin and yourself, pale gold robes embroidered by the dahlia. You thought the elves would get sick of the novelty, but they loved it as much as you did, the flower held such a wonderful meaning to you. 

The elves spent their days playing music, dancing and making sculptures or other art, they told stories and practiced using their special energies. You enjoyed watching Jimin practice healing, seldom bored as he practiced shirtless. He caught you staring most of the time and puffed out his chest proudly and you thought he’d started to do it purposefully. 

Jimin taught you how to meditate - it felt kind of silly at first but soon you grew to like it, just sitting in the room alone with your thoughts. It gave you time to process all your uncertainties and even encouraged you to talk about them to Jimin. 

You told him how you’d lost your parents, opening up about your life and he smiled, kissing your temple, telling you everything happens for a reason, that you were brought to him for a reason. He told you that he, too, had lost his parents and that fate must have chosen you both considering your past, so you could heal together. It was a lovely sentiment and you started to believe it. There were so many aspects of your situation that were crazy and unbelievable, from an underground city to elves, magic and marriage. If ever there was a time to think about fate it was now.

It had been the best few months of your life and if you could go back and do it all again you wouldn’t change a thing. Jimin woke you with kisses pressed to your shoulder blade, making you giggle. 

“Morning.” He smiled, you turned to him, admiring his beautiful features in the glow of the fake sun.

“What are your plans for today, my love?” You brushed some of the tendrils of hair from his face; he braided his hair for sleeping, but every morning there were always some pieces that fell out.

“Well, I thought we could go for a walk, perhaps have a picnic and if it’s not too late, we can swim at the waterfall,” he grinned before sitting up and wrapping himself in his robes, “If it’s too late, well, then we will have to swim at the waterfall now, won’t we?”

“So either way we are swimming at the waterfall?” you scoffed, standing up and dressing for the day, and he helped you tie the robe as he smiled cheekily.

“No, if it’s too late, we can’t swim at the waterfall. We will have to swim at the waterfall.” He stressed the words differently the second time and you raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he is implying.

“Enlighten me on the difference?” You watched his grin stretch wider, clearly you had played into his hand.

“Well the difference my dear, would be the dress code.” He slinked off elegantly across the room, gathering the hair brush, ready to style his hair for the day. You looked after him, mouth hanging open, about to call him out on his daring nature when the door burst open, revealing Taehyung looking nervous.

“The Almighty, they are here and they are asking for Y/n.” You felt sick. Why were they here and asking for you? Why were they ruining this?

“What do they want?” Jimin urged Taehyung, sounding a little hostile. You took Jimin's arm, gently squeezing his bicep, trying to calm and reassure him.

“Everything is fine, let me talk to them,” you said as you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading out of the palace out of the courtyard. You were escorted out of the town by Taehyung and up the small hill towards the elevator. They were waiting for you, you growing nervous as you turned to Taehyung. “I want to speak with them alone, if something goes wrong I won’t let you get hurt. Tell Jimin, if I don’t return, to go to the waterfall.”

“Y/n?” Taehyung spoke worriedly and you smiled, waving him off. He reluctantly left you to speak with the men in suits.

“Hello Gentleman, what can I do for you?” You smiled.

“We spoke with the higher ups, they don’t want humans down here.” The man said. “I am sorry, I am going to have to take you back up, you can’t stay down here.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you gestured to the elevator and when they turned to it, you ran into the forest, hoping for shelter in the dense trees. However, from the loud gunshots and the stabbing heat in your side, you weren’t quick enough. You tried to keep running, you just had to make it to the waterfall. Jumping off the cliff and landing in the water, you felt the pain radiate through you at the impact, and you took a deep breath and swam under the water into the tunnel to the cave.

Once inside, you dragged your form out of the water and laid on the smooth rock, waiting for help. You grew cold as the night fell and you were losing hope. You held on as long as you could, but eventually, you fell unconscious.

The cold was replaced with warmth, a pleasant heat that took away the pain. You felt it fill you until you felt like you were in a little incubator. You felt tingling sensations in your chest, stomach, head, eyes, ears, everything felt like you were floating.

When you woke, you were still in the cave and Jimin was sitting there, his hands outstretched and glowing over your stomach. His chest was shaking and even though his eyes were closed you saw the tears dripping, and heard his sniffles. You reached out, surprised that you didn’t feel pain, and sitting up, you saw your wound had healed.

“Jimin,” you called, and he blinked, looking at you relieved, lunging for you to give you kisses, his hands buried in your hair. His thumb brushed affectionately by your ear and you pulled back surprised. There was this feeling in your chest and stomach, a fluttering sensation just from him brushing your ear. “What is it?”

“Well, I um, I haven’t ever healed a human before, my power heals injured elves to the optimum elvish form. And well, it healed your body to the ultimate elvish form,” he said slowly and you shivered, the feeling still tingling from touching your ear. “I am sorry.”

“Wait, so I am an elf?” you asked, examining his expression for any form of jest or lie, but there was none; he was serious. You tried to process it further: what did this mean, being an elf? “So I am an elf?”

He nodded, you were so shocked you couldn’t formulate your thoughts and feelings into any further actual questions. “Your body is now elf.”

“So I have pointed ears,” you tried to address the obvious and then you asked the question you were most scared about, “will I age differently?”

“You will live the life span of an elf, so several thousands of years, your body will act like an elf, grow habits like an elf,” he bowed his head lower, “I am so sorry, you are no longer an Almighty.”

“Don’t be sorry, this way we can live out our lives together at the same pace.” You kissed him, rubbing your nose to his affectionately, “I am sure I can learn everything as we go. The most important question is; do you still love me even though I am not special?”

“Not special? You will always be special to me, and honestly your features have been enhanced by the transformation, but not altered. You are still an exotic beauty,” he smiled cheekily. “You could look like a troll and I would still love you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled and the two of you swam from the cave and emerged from the water. It was night time. You took Jimin's hand in yours as you headed for the town. The men were waiting and they raised their guns at you. 

“You cannot stay here, it is time to leave,” the man commanded.

“I can’t leave, I am an elf now,” you raised an eyebrow, “they will notice my differences in aging.”

“We have orders, and if you do not come willingly, we will shoot you.” You didn’t and you froze in pain; amongst the pain, you felt your skin crawl oddly and the muscles contract until you felt something pushing out of your skin. 

It was a painful process, but you were healing yourself and you looked at Jimin who looked worried. 

“I’m not leaving, so you can pack up and get out of here.” You grinned and they nodded, leaving with a warning. 

It was an empty threat as you were never bothered again. With Jimin eternity seemed easy, and you couldn’t wait for the years awaiting you. Falling in love was a fairtrade to never seeing the daylight again.

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[apollo-justice-for-all]

Snow

AO3 link here

Summary: Apollo recalls his first experience with snow in the Khura'inese mountains with Dhurke and Nahyuta.

--

The Kingdom of Khura'in...or, to be more specific, the faraway mountains. A relatively safe haven for the Defiant Dragons as they planned their coup d'état against the tyrannical Queen Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in and her equally tyrannical Defense Culpability Act.

The Defiant Dragons had multiple bases set up in the kingdom, from dilapidated buildings to even the complex sewer system underground. They even had spies within the ranks of the royal guards, stealthily observing the queen and her family's every actions - observations that they would then report back to their superiors.

Yet, time and again, the mountains proved themselves to be the primary base of operations for the Dragons. Standing at the pinnacle of the world, the mountains provided a great barrier of nature, one that proved to be impenetrable. No matter how many of the royal guards were sent out, the Dragons could conceal themselves within the dense forests and the vast fields. Even the deepest of lakes and the fastest of rivers could hide them from prying eyes.

But the mountains were also a dangerous place to live in. While the royal guards were a main concern, there was also the matter of other dangerous creatures roaming in the wild. One could easily find themselves face-to-face with a predatory animal like a tiger or a wolf, or a misstep could send someone falling off a cliff to their untimely demise. And, of course, there was always the matter of finding enough food to last an entire group...or a small family.

Dhurke always kept this in mind. Even after all the years he'd spent hiding in the mountains, living in that little shack, he knew there was danger to be had. Not just for himself, but also for his two boys, Nahyuta and Apollo.

Especially Apollo.

From the moment Dhurke took him under his wing, the young child had grown into quite the little spitfire, always full of energy and vigor, and always eager for adventure. Take away that piss and vinegar, and you get just that: a child, all alone, with his father dead and his mother missing. It broke Dhurke's heart every time he recalled the incident: the fire burning away at the palace, Apollo as an infant crying for help as his father lay dead...

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the wooden floorboards, nor the sound of a door being swung open. The rush of cold air and a startled squeak, on the other hand, were enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

Dhurke turned around to find Apollo running towards him. His tiny hands were wrapped around something white and mushy, and his cheeks were bright red. He was also shivering from the coldness to the point where Dhurke could see his pointed canine teeth like little fangs (dragon fangs, according to Datz).

"D-D-Dhurke," Apollo spoke up between shivers. "What's this? It's s-so white, and wet and...and...and c-cold!"

Dhurke blinked in surprise. Then, he smiled. And let out a hearty chuckle. He knelt down to affectionately give his foster son a pat on the head, just behind his tiny horns. His other hand came up to poke the white stuff that was slowly but inexorably beginning to melt in Apollo's smaller hands.

"My boy," he said. "All this time in the mountains, and you have no idea about the natural world outside?"

Though, given the circumstances, he figured that being forced to hide from Ga'ran's royal guards was the main factor. But he didn't dare tell Apollo that. Instead, he took a clump of the white and wet...thing...and cupped it in his hands for Apollo to see.

"This is called snow," he explained. "The mountains are topped with it. And, at a certain time of year, it is what covers the land and makes it cold and white."

"S...suh-now..." Apollo slowly repeated.

Dhurke nodded. Apollo took a deep breath and said it again, with more confidence this time. "Snow!" He tossed the last bits of snow into the air, and watched as it scattered on the floor in small droplets.

Apollo frowned. "But if the snow covers the ground, then what happens to the grass, and the plants, and..."

Dhurke chuckled as he stood up. "Well, why don't we find out for ourselves together?" he asked. He went over to the closet and pulled out a large blue coat for himself as well as a smaller red coat for Apollo. He also took out a pair of mittens and boots to keep their hands and feet warm as well as some scarves.

Once Apollo was fully dressed, he followed Dhurke outside the shack and into the fields. More snow covered the ground, blanketing the world in white. Dhurke watched as Apollo gasped in awe at the new surroundings, his eyes sparkling with delight. He then looked down at the snow and ducked down on all fours to dig through it, as if he were searching for his hidden cache of a freshly-killed rabbit or squirrel.

Dhurke knelt down to Apollo's height as he put a hand on his shoulder. "You wish to know more about what happens to the grass and plants when the snow falls, don't you, son?" he asked.

"Uh-huh!" Apollo nodded with enthusiasm.

Dhurke sat down in the snow and pulled Apollo onto his lap. "Well, at this time of year, the plants and grass need to rest and recharge, like the rest of us. When the cold seasons start to settle in, they..." He paused, unsure where to go from there. "...They retreat back into the ground. The earth gives the plants the energy that normally would not be found just by obtaining sunlight and water alone, and the plants, in turn, give themselves to the earth to be reborn again."

He turned to the riverside. "And it's not just the grass that needs to rest, too. Ice forms over the water, and the fish within have to sleep for a very long time. It's the same with some animals, too. Some of them store up enough energy to sleep through and survive the long, cold nights and short days. And others retreat to warmer places."

He glanced up at the sky, noticing that it was starting to snow. "Apollo, listen carefully. Winter is a time when you should reflect upon your past and plan ahead for your future. It is a time to rest your body and mind so that you will be ready come the next spring. But most importantly, it is also a time to remember the fallen ones and to honor their spirits so that they will be reborn anew. And the snow is a symbol of it all - of death, of rest, and of rebirth. That is what makes the life cycle so incredible."

Apollo nodded. "OK," he said. "But what can we do with the snow?"

"How about this?" an older, yet still boyish voice sounded from behind them. As if on cue, Dhurke felt something cold and wet hit his back, startling Apollo. The two of them turned to find Nayhuta dressed in his white coat. He held a snowball in one hand as he grinned, his jade eyes standing out amongst all that white.

Dhurke stared at Nahyuta in bewilderment. Then, he chuckled. "Where'd you come from, my boy?" he asked.

Nahyuta smirked as he clutched his snowball with both hands. "Oh, you know, Father," he said rather innocently. "Just thought I'd surprise you both."

"Well, you certainly managed to accomplish that." Dhurke slowly got up just as Apollo hopped off his lap. "And now, you're going to get it! Raaah!"

Without warning, he scooped up a large clump of snow in his arms and threw it at both his boys. Nayhuta laughed as he dodged the wave of snow. Apollo, however, wasn't so lucky, as he tripped over and fell face-first in the snowbank.

Nahyuta gasped in shock and dropped his snowball as he rushed to his brother's aid. "Apollo! Apollo, are you alright?"

Luckily, Apollo wasn't injured at all. He simply sat up to wipe the snow off his hair and face and glared up at Nayhuta. "Yuty, we gotta get back at him!" he declared.

Nahyuta blinked. Then, he smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "For the Defiant Dragons!"

The two boys quickly gathered up as many snowballs as they could before launching them at Dhurke. Their father laughed as tiny white orbs pelted his coat before retaliating with some of his own snowballs.

Even as Dhurke continued his snowball fight with Apollo and Nahyuta, he couldn't help but feel a dreaded thought nag the back of his mind. Though the snow held its own beauty, it also came with a danger of its own. Prey animals would become scarce, while predators could take desperate measures by invading the shack in search of any fresh meat they could find. And, of course, there was always the possibility of Ga'ran's followers coming into the mountains in search of them.

He knew that someday, one of his two sons would have to leave Khura'in for his safety. And he knew that day was fast approaching.

But for now, as he lay in the snow with his sons at his sides, Dhurke was happy to live out a snow day free of worry...a day where he and his family would be safe.

At least, for now.

* * *

"What are you thinking about, Polly?"

Apollo yelped as Trucy's voice startled him out of his daydream, so much so that it nearly caused him to fall out of his chair. After taking a moment to regain his composure, he then took a quick look at his surroundings.

Gone were Dhurke and Nahyuta along with the little shack in the mountains, replaced with the warm and messy (yet familiar all the same) office of Wright Anything Agency. Trucy was leaning over his desk in front of him, staring at him with concerned sapphire eyes.

Apollo sighed with exasperation as he rubbed his finger against his forehead. "Trucy, how many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up like that?" he complained. "It scares me every time."

Trucy withdrew from her perch atop Apollo's desk. "Sorry, Polly," she said. "But you looked pretty zoned out. What were you thinking about?"

Oh...that.

Apollo sighed as he relaxed in his chair. "Just...thinking about the times I used to play in the snow as a kid, I guess," he answered solemnly. "Snowball fights, snow angels...even sledding..."

Trucy tapped a finger to her chin, like she usually did when she was thinking hard. "You really miss all the fun times, don't you?" she asked. "It's not like you to feel down in the dumps, you know. You're usually a lot more serious than that, Polly."

And by serious, you mean grumpy, thought Apollo as he pouted a little.

Trucy glanced out at the window...and let out a gasp. "Polly! Polly, look!" she squealed excitedly. "It's snowing outside!"

Apollo blinked with surprise. "Wait, seriously?" he asked.

"Seriously, Polly! You gotta take a look at this!" Trucy pressed her gloved hands against the glass window, grinning with excitement. Apollo got up from his desk to look out the window. Almost right away, his eyes widened with amazement at what he saw.

Outside the office, he saw multiple snowflakes gently falling from the sky, blanketing the city skyscrapers in a soft and fluffy white. Down below, he noticed that some of the streets and sidewalks were empty, as if the people down below had chosen to leave room for nature to take over.

Almost unconsciously, Apollo found himself recalling Dhurke's words: "Winter is a time when you should reflect upon your past and plan ahead for your future. It is a time to rest your body and mind so that you will be ready come the next spring. But most importantly, it is also a time to remember the fallen ones and to honor their spirits so that they will be reborn anew."

He couldn't help but curl his lips into a small smile, remembering his first snow day in the mountains, in a world where he lived alone with his family. He wondered if they were doing the same, looking out into the window of their hideout, remembering that very day...remembering him.

"Hey, Polly!"

Apollo looked down at Trucy, her grin having morphed into a broad, toothy smile. "You wanna go and see if Mr. Gavin and Ms. Skye have taken the day off? I'm sure they won't resist a good snowball fight...or two. It'll be a good way for you to unwind as well."

Apollo thought this over for a moment. Then, he smiled. "Heh, why not?" he replied, his mind picturing a moment where he could finally knock that stupid, smug look off of that glimmerous fop's face.

"Perfect!" Trucy bounced over to grab her coat. "Then let's go make some calls and tell them to meet us over at People Park!"

"I'll be right there," Apollo said. "Just...need a moment." Once he was sure Trucy was gone, he leaned against the windowsill and looked outside once more. He let out a deep sigh as the memories came back to him. For the first time in his life, he realized just how alone he was, in America, without his family by his side.

Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but think about the new friends and the new family he'd gained here. A group of close confidants who would always have his back no matter what.

He smiled. No matter what happened next, he would be fine.

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter seven: mornings are for coffee and sexual tension

part eight of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six / masterlist

synopsis: the morning after.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: the briefest and vaguest implications of sex (about as pg as it gets honestly), mutual pining (they’re oblivious idiots what do you expect from them at this point?), not beta’d

author’s note: i’ve not been in a good headspace lately and deleted my twitter app the other day to try and clear my head (✨a great move for someone who’s being crushed under crippling loneliness✨) so i feel like this really isn’t my best work, by a long shot, but writing this was the only thing that seemed to cheer me up, so we’re rolling with it! enough about me here’s the good stuff!

Some mornings beat her down. She’ll wake with a terrible wait on her chest and her head in a haze, and the day will stretch on in slow motion. Sadness and pain and upset stretching the hours for miles and miles. Those days, she hates to leave her bed. Her body feels too heavy to move from the mattress. But those days come far less frequent than they used to; every couple of months, when the rain lashes heavy against the window panes and the fog rolls over the river. Melancholia lingers like the smell after it rains and hoodies keep her together and the gazes away.

Others are rosy, honeysuckle sweet and tipped in golden sunshine. She’ll wake to the familiar smell of roses and fresh cotton, of cinnamon and citrus and the candles she’d burned the night before. She’s weightless as she rises, breezy dresses and peach lipgloss, and it’s like a never-ending summer, even when the weather turns frigid and she’s freezing in dresses made for the heat. Those mornings are mornings made for Marcus and syrupy sweet coffee in tiny coffee shops.

But some mornings exist alone; those mornings when anticipating hangs in the air, when change still has yet to set in. Mornings she doesn’t know how to feel when she wakes surrounded by her duvet. Mornings that can become the best or the worst of her life.

Mornings with Marcus over coffee in the sunshine are usually the best.

They’re filled with familiar laughter.

Coraline wakes to the sun streaming into her bedroom, bright, golden and insistent. The curtains are cracked open a little - disturbed and out-of-line, no longer drawn together like they had been when she’d fallen asleep - and the gap lets the warm morning sunlight in. A chill pulls through her; even as she tugs her duvet up underneath her chin for a moment. It’s thicker than it normally is, the weather proving to be much harsher than she’d ever anticipated it could be as Spring edges closer, and it’s even worse when she feels the bed beside her empty and cold. Coraline stretches an arm out over the sparse half of the bed, the sheets there cool, neat and frustratingly unoccupied.

Her heart sinks a little at the realisation. 

Even if she isn’t entirely sure what she would have done if she’d woken up with Marcus by her side.

Marcus is a morning person, only allowing himself to sleep in on weekends . But Coraline is usually always the first one of them awake; the one who wakes him up with a text or coffee at his front door. He normally claims her to be ridiculously - and, she’s sure, annoyingly - springly in the early mornings, no matter what time she wakes, no matter how many hours of sleep she’s managed. It takes a while, and far too many cups of coffee, and she usually crashes in the late evening when things catch up on her with ferocity. She knows, this morning, Marcus has done the gentlemanly thing and left her to sleep in those precious few hours, before she has to wake up and head to the heavy load of interviews she has peppered throughout the day. But she really wishes he’d woken her, even just to say goodbye, before he’d left for work. 

Coraline knows he’d never intended on staying the night. It wasn’t that kind of arrangement, they both knew that, but it had just happened. And, honestly, neither of them had been entirely made about it, either. He'd made a joke about how her bed was so much comfier than his and she’d giggled and yawned and tucked herself into the warmth of his side, without a second thought. Neither of them had complained about the closeness. Her eyes had grown heavy with sleep and her words quiet, and Marcus had traced patterns into her lower back until she’d fallen asleep a few moments later. 

She digs a knuckled into her eyes to rub away the sleep that weighs down her eyelids and groans as she stretches out her aching limbs. Everything aches - even places she didn’t know could ache - especially her back as she lifts her head to glance over at the alarm clock. She’s utterly exhausted, the late night catching up with her, but she’s too worried she’s overslept to even think about going back to sleep. 8:04 blinks back at her in glaring white fluorescent.

Blinking up at the ceiling, laying flat on her aching back, blinking away the weariness that clouds her eyes, Coraline finally finds it within herself to climb out of bed. Some mornings, she can rarely leave the comfort of her blankets. The weight of something always seems to press down on her; sometimes, she doesn’t even know what that weight is. This morning is one of them. She groans when she stands and her feet touch the wooden floor. She stretches her limbs out, every joint in her body seeming to crack as she moves, and yawns so wide that she’s glad no one is around to see it. She’s sure she looks ridiculous on a morning - with wild hair and watery eyes and bright flushed cheeks - but, now, with no one around to see, she doesn’t care.

Coraline slips her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and shuffles her way out of the bedroom. Her father’s old Eagles shirt - the one she’d stolen from his drawers when she’d left for LA; the one that reminded her of her childhood and smelt so reminiscent of him - brushes the middle of her thighs as she moves. It was the first thing she’d grabbed the night before, still balled up at the foot of her bed. 

She’s greeted by a sight she hadn’t expected to see when she steps into the kitchen.

The low, slow bubble of the coffee machine, followed by the rich smell of coffee beans. Marcus Pike stands, leant against the counter without a care in the world, with two mugs perched in front of him; one is Cora’s favourite — her Death Cab For Cutie mug — and the other is the old one with the chip in the rim Marcus had accidentally made when he visited her apartment the first time. She’d meant to throw it out, but it reminded her of him, and she’d always reach for her mug whenever he made coffee at hers. 

She wishes she’d made an effort to make herself look presentable for him; he’s never seen her look so rough, and she hopes to god that her early morning appearance doesn’t scare him away. But it’s like she’s stepped into an entirely new world where it’s only the two of them left; no one else matters because they don’t exist. Coraline and Marcus are the only two people left in this world.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he calls cheerily at the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut behind her. 

He doesn’t turn, just continues pushing the buttons on the coffee machine as he places her mug beneath, but she can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. She’s struck by how relaxed he looks. The whole sight seems familiar, somehow; he’s relaxed against the counter, his suit jacket and tie slung over the back of one of her chairs, and he’s humming some indiscernible tune quietly as she steps through the space.

“Good morning.” Coraline returns his greeting and leans her elbows against the island behind him. She watches him with a fond smile on her face. She can’t help it. Everything just seems gentle and wonderful, and she wouldn’t be against this becoming a weekly sight. But it wouldn’t - it couldn’t - and maybe that was for the best.

She’s staring.

She can’t help it. Her heart aches along with the rest of her body; she can feel it skipping in that awkward rhythm, fluttering like butterflies trapped between her ribs, along to the tune of the song he’s singing. A little out of tune but endearing, nonetheless. It’s a little embarrassing that she’s feeling this way over a friendship, of all things, and she knows better than to kindle that little fire within her that she knows will reach out and swallow her whole. She’s been burned by it in the past - so has he, more than she, unjustly and unfairly, and in ways no one should ever have to be burned - and maybe it’s better that they keep their distance from feelings that aren’t entirely platonic.

“I was going to wake you before I left,” Marcus calls back to her before he turns and offers her out the mug of coffee. “Didn’t seem right to leave without saying goodbye.” He leans back against the counter and he’s looking at her like he always does, like a best friend does, with a small smile and sparkling eyes and a friendly fondness that makes her feel appreciated each day. She’s glad last night hasn’t changed anything; if he’d been looking at her any differently, she thinks it might have broken her.

She’d expected things to be awkward and heavy. She’d fallen asleep hoping they wouldn’t, that things would be as normal as they are now, a repeated mantra in her head to remind herself that things don’t have to bear a terrible weight, but she’d expected inescapable tension in the air between them when they saw each other for the first time after what they’d done the night before. The terrible consequence of their agreement and how it would fall flat instantly when the realisation of their terrible idea sets in. Instead, the only thing that hangs between them is that easy informality that comes so easy to them, that her brother had joked about the night before. Maybe what they were doing was a terrible, ill-conceived idea - an idea that anyone else would think was utterly insane - but she’s glad it hasn’t tarnished the friendship that she holds so dear and is too scared to lose. Because he’s here, a gentle look on his face, making her coffee in her favourite mug. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing that damn smile. The smile that makes her feel so appreciated, so grounded, it’s so familiar and welcome and if she ever goes too long without seeing it she’s sure she would feel cold and brutally alone. He makes her feel at ease and, even despite her wild hair and sleep-kissed cheeks and the shirt that’s too baggy and slides off her shoulder, she doesn’t feel like so much of a mess. She’s forgotten the chill that had swept through her when her feet touched the freezing floorboards. 

She’s staring at him again, staring like she’s trying to figure him out, a puzzle to her eyes, staring at the fond smile on his face that tugs gentle at his lips, and blinking back at him without a reply.

But his smile only grows at the sight of it.

“You didn’t have to make me coffee,” Coraline insists after a moment, placing the mug onto the kitchen island and letting her chin drop into her hands where they’re propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to the side when he grins and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m serious, you’re my guest. I should be the one making you coffee.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m a great friend.”

Friend. He really is a great friend. 

Her best friend, the one person she really would dare to tell all her secrets to. 

They’ve become so used to joking with each other, the lighthearted jabs and sarcastic comments, that it comes as second nature. But she still can’t help but roll her eyes as she chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee; it’s sweet and just how she likes it. She knows that an inevitable sugar crash will come in the late afternoon but it seems worth it. 

Coraline runs her thumb around the rim of her mug idly, a distraction, she supposes. Manicured nails tinker against the cheap but long-loved ceramic. She’s half-sure Marcus is going to mention something about the night before — about what they did or what it meant to the feelings between them, or even when they were going to do … it again — but he never does. He just makes idle conversation from opposite her, too far away for her to touch but close enough for her to smell the lingering remnants of his cologne from the night before. It clings to the fabric of his shirt, to the curve of his neck. She’d recognise that smell a while away; sweet and strong and comforting, just like him. 

“I should be heading back to my apartment,” Marcus announces suddenly. He places his empty mug into the sink and reaches for his jacket and tie.

Coraline can’t help but frown. “You’re not staying for breakfast?” She doesn’t know why she asks; not long ago, she’d accepted the fact that he’d left for work without waking her, now she wanted him to stay longer.

She thinks Marcus sighs, but it’s too quiet to hear, if he does. “As much as I would love that.” His eyes are soft - that surely unintentional puppy-dog look of apology that melts her heart and softens her soul - when he turns back to her, looping his tie around his neck. “I think people might notice if I show up in the same clothes as yesterday.” His shirt and jacket are wrinkled from where they lay on her bedroom floor all night. There’s an especially deep crease, stark grey against the crisp white fabric, that runs from the collar to the waistband of his pants. 

Coraline sets her mug down and rounds the island towards Marcus. She smooths her hands down the creases in his shirt, trying to brush the wrinkles from his usually-pristine cotton before she bats his hands away from his tie. She can feel his gaze burning into the top of her head as she fiddles with the silken material, out-of-practice hands working the material like she does this everyday. She loves the simple domesticity of it all. It gives them both a moment to breathe.

“Cora-” His voice hangs low in his throat. “-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Marcus exhales deeply out of his nose and runs his hands up her arms. “You don’t have to,” he hums. “I can do it myself.”

“What can I say?” She smooths down the back of his collar and the knot of his tie. She tilts her head to look up at him. “I’m a great friend.”

She thinks for a moment he’s going to kiss her. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes; it’s intense and searching, and his brows are furrowed yet he’s smiling still. He holds her gaze for so long that she’s almost sure of it. That he’s going to kiss her despite their agreement that they’re just friends, nothing more and nothing less, and it’s still going to mean nothing because of the night before. Because they’re just friends and they know that. 

But Coraline wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her.

“So handsome.” She smiles, after a moment of soft silence, patting his shoulders once she finishes knotting up his tie. So damn handsome it’s painful. The smile is sweet and saccharine, welcoming yet still dismissive of any romantic intentions. She really wouldn’t mind if he kissed her, but he can’t. She really wouldn’t mind if this was a daily thing, if every morning she could wake up to him and his gentle smiles, but she can’t. Coraline wonders if the timing was different - if they’d met some other time, some other place, before their heartbreaks or when the reluctance of moving on had waned - would it be more than a friendship? Cora knows that friendships like this are hard to find amongst the fickle fire of Hollywood relationships, and she’d be damned if she ever let him slip between her fingers.

She hears Marcus hum low in his throat when she turns to drop her empty mug into the sink. The water runs and the heater hums, and Coraline pays no mind to the way his gaze lingers.

Marcus watches her; even in her early morning muddle - shirt far too baggy, slipping from her shoulders, drowning her slightness in it’s black, worn material; hair a near-tangled beautiful mess, twisted against the nape of her neck and mussed up on the side where she’d curled up against his chest; rosy red cheeks, pink-flushed like the sky during the sunset; the smile on her lips, soft and lazy with sleep - he still think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’d let himself drown in her beauty if he could, if there weren’t a life-preserver of past holding him above the calming waves. His brain placates his desire in the form of a platonic friendship and he keeps her close enough to quell the unintentional desire. Marcus rushed in headfirst and headstrong; somehow, this ill-thought out arrangement makes more sense than figuring what exactly it is that lingers between them.

They assume it’s friendship. That makes the most sense.

But he’ll remember this when it’s over - when the sleepless nights and exhausted days come and there’s this small, delicate thing that relies on them both just to get by - because how could he ever forget. He’ll remember her kitchen in the soft morning sunlight as the sun continues to rise and spills through the window, mellow unlike he’d ever seen it before, and he’ll remember the feel of her warmth at her side as she sleeps. Every fleeting moment he spends with her - between work and happenstance and everything that keeps them mindlessly busy for weeks on end - feels like a lifetime of teenage summers when friendship and sunshine are the only things that matter. 

“Thank you,” he hums again. He pulls on his shirt jacket; it’s wrinkled, like his shirt, from a night spent crumpled on the floor. He’s glad his apartment is within walking distance and he doesn’t have to take the Metro looking as disheveled as he does. Anyone awake enough would realise why he looks the way he does.

When she turns back to him, she’s smiling wider than before. The coffee has cut through the sleepy haze she’s worn since she’d woken and the Coraline he’s used to - the Coraline with the sunshine smile, golden and bright, and the enthusiasm that sparkles in her eyes - is back. Though he realises he’s just as fond as both versions of her: the drowsy woman in the morning light, blissful and comfortable when pulled from her dreams and the one who’s bright and vibrant and whose smile lights up his entire day. 

Marcus mirrors her smile and leans over towards her. He kisses the corner of her mouth; so close, yet so far away. Her eyebrows pinch together at the feeling, the gentle brush of his plush lips over her skin, barely an inch touching the curve of her lips, but settle before he pulls back and notices the pull on her expression. “See you around, Sunshine.” He bids her farewell before he sweeps from her apartment and she’s left to sigh and slump back against the kitchen counter.

Damn that man and the effect he has on her.

taglist: @wheresthewater @ah-callie @its--fandom--darling

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Back at the base, the team desperately hopes to find MacTavish but is surprised by uninvited guests.

Chapter 12 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : The Berlin Tower

Uninvited Guests

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141 

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

It's been 18 hours since the heartbreaking news, everyone already lost hope but a few comrades still clung on a little string of possibility.

The nurse guided Gary's left arm and slung it over his shoulders and told him he was good to go. He got his injuries assisting INTERPOL in Paris, along with Ghost in hopes of finding Augutus. Gary initially handled the situation but one bad sidestep caused him to fall on his arm, and good thing it's only considered minor damage.

But enough of him, he thought to himself. He had to address the elephant in the room. John 'Soap' MacTavish was M.I.A.

When Ryder's team got back from Berlin, France's face was plastered with despair, she held back tears all throughout the ride and ran to Gary as soon as they cleared their report.

Gary helped being a sponge to absorb her sadness and a shoulder to cry on, France is really a tough lass, but she opened up on how Soap not making it home felt a different level of hurt. Gary assumed she already got attached to the guy, but kept it to himself, especially that Simon was with them helping her cope up with her burst of emotions.

"I should've…" she sobbed. Gary rubbed her back and empathized with her, as they coped up with the loss of a comrade.

"He survived." Gary spoke, Ghost and France looked at him, their faces looked puzzled but hopeful at the same time. France couldn't help but hug the determined soldier as Ghost agreed in the background. They should put their faith on him, Soap will survive.

"Come on now. Show us that smile." Ghost nudged, making France smile a little and wiped off her tears. She was too lucky to be teammates with them and they were there when she needed them the most.

The wholesome moment stopped as soon as soldiers in battle gear jogged across the hall, one soldier opened the infirmary door and yelled.

"We're under attack! Grab these and help us defend against the intruders!" he said, tossing assault rifles to the soldiers. Ghost caught them and immediately checked his gun. Gary held his on one hand, it could work but he has to account for the recoil.

"Under attack? By who?" Gary asked as they shuffled to exit the infirmary. 

"Guess we'll find out." Ghost said as they followed the wave of soldiers exiting the building. Above them, the clear blue sky was filled with small dots that gradually grew huge, they parachuted from the sky down to the forest near the base.

"No bloody way." Ghost said as a loud sniper fire ringed their ears making them look toward the source.

"Let's get a move on! Defensive stances everyone. Don't let them get our HVI's! Hold until they're safely extracted!" Captain Price yelled, firing another bullet, hitting falling parachuters dead before they even touched the ground.

The trio immediately ran to the weapons cache and equipped their gear, positioning themselves for an all out attack. Gary's heart raced, this wasn't what he expected to happen here at the 141, but here they were.

"Careful out there." Simon told the two as they nodded in unison. His sniper skills were needed to significantly reduce their defenses. Gary winced in pain as he threw his sling away, holding the gun with two hands, trying not to mind the pain from his broken arm. There was no room for error, he must make his every bullet count.

"141, this is Alex. Our HVIs are safe inside the bunker. Extraction team ETA is in 30 minutes." Alex muttered over the comms. 

"First wave of tangos spotted emerging from the trees!" One of the soldiers reported. The comms continued informing everyone else about the situation requesting back ups and reporting sightings. Roach and France set themselves on the front of the base overlooking the river. The same exact place where he saw Soap and Price sneak out to smoke cigars.

"This place…" France muttered.

"It gives a perfect view of what's beyond the river. That's where the extraction team's going to land." Gary noted, noticing France's change in expression. Something about this place must've bothered her. And Gary stayed alert on his surroundings.

"Sightings on the East." one soldier noted behind the noise of the gunfire. Gary and France crept slowly, looking for a place to cover a wider angle. 

"Is no one going to assist us here?" France asked unaware that she broadcasted her question which was supposed to be only for Roach.

"From the looks of it, none. Looks like Nero's already starting his first move." Captain Price replied.

"141, this is General Shepherd. Looks like our friend's ready to face us head on. Secure our HVIs to safety, I've got bigger fish to fry as he's starting an assault on New York." he interjected, leaving command to the British Captain. 

"So it begins, huh?" Gary muttered.

"All right lads and lassies, you heard the big guy. Defend and retreat." Price stated, as everyone else nodded in agreement.

~

The initial onslaught was quite tolerable. None of the invaders made it out near the gates as snipers already crippled half of the defenses. Despite the enemies being known for their usage of EMP-based weaponry, the comms and radars were still working fine. Maybe it was too heavy to carry all the way to the UK.

The force almost felt confident that they'll make it, the airdrop already stopped and most troops are probably in the forest, regrouping and prepared for something bigger. That's where Gary's group comes in.

Their tiny group is to recon any activity inside their drop zone. France reported that almost half of the parachutes were decoy dummies and most of those who made it out of the forest were the only real ones. 

Static filled their ears while France was reporting and they braced themselves for what's going to happen next. 

Raising his rifle, Gary once again winced and endured the pain of his supporting arm and tracked down his sights. He didn't see anything but his gut was telling him something sinister is going to unfold very soon.

The ringing grew louder until he's forced to take off his earpiece, as he slowly crept into the forest and stayed alert for any movement. The team splitted up earlier to get a wider coverage for recon, so shooting at sight is not advised. Gary knew a clearing was going to be there on the far end of the forest and theorized that it's the place the remaining soldiers would most likely regroup.

He circled around and hid behind the tree as he heard clanking metal and busy shuffling by the clearing. His heart sped up as he peeked half of his head to the clearing and saw about five people working on assembling something, three armed people circling around three of his comrades who were bound and silenced. That meant that he was alone.

The assemblers happily cackled as they built their machine. That was their plan. Mannequins or decoys carried the parts while some of the assemblers and defenders were mixed along with the drop so they could sneakily create an EMP machine without suspicion. Nero's one smart son of a bitch.

A full magazine. Gary noted as he checked his weapon. It isn't suppressed and he's worried some defenders are still creeping into the jungle. He's glad the three aren't killed yet, for reasons unknown to him.

One of the assemblers approached the defender, saying something. Gary couldn't make it out but his body language says distress.

"One of.. the pieces are missing… Look for them near your base… we'll be behind you watching your every move. Do something else and we will shoot you, and once these guys hear a gunshot, your friends will say goodbye. Not returning in five minutes and I'll also shoot these two and they do the same to you" he said loudly, Gary gulped as France nodded, guns pointed at her were used to push her forward as they searched the forest for the missing piece.

Two guards were with her, a silent takedown meant that one will still be able to hear him and could fire his gun, and the clearing was too open for him to sneak in and kill the remaining guard. Gary pondered about his choices, he could look for the missing piece and stall them but the five minute timer would be the second problem.

The machine menacingly hummed and Gary's earpiece still isn't working. He needed help and hoped that reinforcements would arrive just in time for the five minute mark.

"Uninvited Guests"

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Rooftop

Ever since Roach's squad stepped into the forest for some recon, they fell silent. Price tried to contact them multiple times but they didn't reply. Simon's hunch is that there may be an EMP machine with them, but he knew full well that only humans dropped from that excuse of an air assault.

His eyes scanned the vast greenery, looking at rustling leaves, flying birds and crawling animals, wishing that the next set of movements were from the recon team. 

Or France's…

Simon liked her determination since day one, he wanted to tell her a lot of things but she's always preoccupied and never had the chance to talk to her alone. Sometimes he wished he was the one that caught that blast so that they could bond together by the infirmary. It's almost sad to think that he wanted that. Gary already told him multiple times to actually express what he felt, but that just doesn't go that way. It's easier said than done. What hurts more is that she looked awfully devastated at Soap being M.I.A. the kind of sadness you feel when you lost someone you loved and he was sure that she loved him more than that of a friend.

Leaves rustled by the forest and France emerged from it. She was weaponless and her face looked troubled, she looked scared. 

"You seeing this, Sir?" he muttered to his Captain.

"Aye. Hold still, looks like she's on a situation down there." Price replied. France's hands signaled hold fire, she almost predicted that the team might locate someone behind her and took the initiative of warning them. She picked up a piece of metal on the ground and slowly proceeded back to the forest.

"Bollocks! She looked like she's in trouble. Go assist her, Ghost." Price ordered and Ghost immediately went down the rooftops, switching his gear to stealth mode and dashed through the forest.

"ETA in 15… tes…" static crackled across his earpiece, making him remove the equipment and proceed with caution. That's why they weren't responding, the whole forest is actually jammed. That meant that the piece of metal is part of the machine. He must get it before it's too late, his mind started to lose focus and worry about France, so he ran, he ran far enough that he saw movement by a large tree near the clearing. He aimed his sights and crouched, aiming the person's head.

That head… it was Roach's. He was safe.

Simon slowly crept and went to Roach's aid. He was fine but he looked lost in thought.

"Roach, you okay?" he asked. Roach looked at his watch. 

"Thirty More seconds and they're dead." he whispered as noise filled the clearing once again, making the two peek.

"Wow. Just in time!" he clapped and tied France back to her group. The machine was complete and the assemblers quickly finished their job.

"There we go. All complete." he pointed his gun at the three, as Ghost angrily gripped his weapon.

"Thank you for your service." The man muttered and laughed, his head immediately burst before he could make the shot.

Everyone shuffled and the assemblers panicked, Roach fired the other runners while Ghost finished off the rest of the armed enemies.

"Let's get out of here, now!" Roach quickly untangled the rest of his team as they made a run for it, away from the machine as possible.

Midway through the jungle a huge pulse of air pushed them as the machine emitted a loud ring, making them kneel and cover their ears.

Their comms were down. They had no idea what's going to happen next. When extraction will arrive, are the two HVIs still safe. All of those questions will remain unanswered until communication is restored or they could confirm it by seeing for themselves.

Next Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Notification Squad my beloved

@beemybee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @ricinbach

[vannahfanfics]

A Deidara/Ino (DeiIno) fic with “Zinnia” please. I know it’s a weird ship, but I think their strong personalities go well with the flower.

Hey, Anon! This is a really interesting ship :D The zinnia flower represents a number of things, including endurance, remembrance, and lasting friendship. So, I thought up an AU for the two of them. I hope you enjoy it!

“Hey.” His sky-blue eyes were wide and his expression solemn as he gazed intently at Ino. The rain pelted against the windows, making the street blur into watercolor smudges. Dew still clung to the many potted flowers littered around the shop from where Ino had watered them, and his shoulder-length blond hair and serious expression refracted in each little bead.“You won’t forget me, will you?” 

Ino jolted awake with a snort. Her eyelashes flapped rapidly as she rose unceremoniously into consciousness, eyes hazy and unfocused beneath the thin platinum-blonde fibers. A sliver of drool leaked from her glossed lips to pool under her chin. Growing more lucid by the microsecond, she scowled at the gross, wet sensation of it clinging to her chin and wiped it away with her wrist, then cleaned the drool off onto her sundress. She’d fallen asleep manning the cash register at her parents’ flower shop… again. 

“I just can’t help it,” she mumbled, slouching back over the counter and scooting the metal chair closer so as not to stretch out her back too far. With the pleasant aroma of a hundred flower species wafting on the air spilled down by the ceiling fans combined with the warm sunlight streaming through the many windows, it was nearly impossible not to be lulled into a doze. Ino could already feel her eyelids growing heavy again as she sat there, just staring at the colorful blooms in plastic pots. Yet she didn’t fall asleep, for she was thinking about the blond-haired, bright-eyed boy from her dreams. 

How many years ago was that? Ten, maybe? she wondered with a small frown. A long time ago, for sure. Every summer since she was old enough to carry some semblance of responsibility, Ino had manned the flower shop for her parents when they had to run errands. Of course, back then she had only been eight, so she wasn’t left for more than a few hours at a time… Usually. That particular summer a surprise rainstorm had struck while her parents were out. A mudslide had covered the road back, leaving Ino stranded alone at the flower shop for hours. The cell towers had failed, meaning she had no idea where her parents were or if they were all right. She’d sat in the corner and cried, terrified for both her well-being and that of her parents, until she’d heard a tentative rapping on the door. 

She’d never asked why he’d been wandering the rainstorm by himself; she just let him right in, more desperate to not be alone anymore than to do the right thing. He was wearing a bright duck-yellow raincoat the same shade as his sopping wet blond hair, and his blue eyes shone bright in the flashing lightning. She’d locked the door behind him, chewing her lip and growing shy to be in the presence of a stranger. 

“Are you here by yourself?” he asked her, and she just nodded bashfully. The fear returned, causing tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. “Hey, don’t cry,” he smiled, and Ino fancied it was a nice smile indeed. He reached out with tender hands to thumb her tears away, replacing the salty brine with fresh rainwater. “I’m here now. We’ll weather the storm together.” 

Ino jumped as a loud rumble of thunder snatched her from the embrace of sleep again. She jolted into a sitting position and looked at the rectangular window beside the counter, finding the street veiled by a waterfall stream of rain. The sunlight had faded, choked out by the thick gray storm clouds dumping the deluge of water to earth. She rose from the chair to walk to the window, trying to peer through the thick stream out at the street. She caught snatches of clear images— water puddling in wide rivers over the road, people running into the closest buildings with their jackets held up over their heads, lightning shooting like white snakes through the clouds. 

Wow, what a storm, she thought with pursed lips. She rounded the counter to go to the front door, flipping the sign to “CLOSED” and locking it. No one would come out to buy flowers in this deluge; the wind would rip it to shreds, based on the way it whistled shrilly and rattled the glass. Ino grabbed her cellphone when she came back to the counter, pulling up her mother’s contact information and giving her a call. 

“Hey, Mom. I just wanted to warn you that the weather’s gotten nasty over here. You and Dad should probably stay at the hotel another night.” She scraped the paint off the wood with her manicured nails as her mother’s worried voice buzzed through the other line. “No, no, I’m all right. I’ll wait for it to clear up, and if it doesn’t, I can sleep in the break room,” she said with a smile, trying to alleviate her mother’s worries. “Sure. Yeah, I’m fine, really! There’s food in the break fridge, and I can keep myself busy working on tomorrow’s call-in orders. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” 

She set the cellphone down on the counter with a small sigh. She tapped her nails against the wood, debating. She could get started on the call-in orders, but… there was something about the rain that lulled her into lethargy. She found her eyes drooping again already. Just a little nap…

She had just plunked down against the counter when she heard it: rapraprap. 

“Huh?” she huffed, arms scrabbling over the counter as she jerked up. Her bleary eyes searched the gloom of the flower shop, watching the light play over the various colored petals and green leaves. The rapping sounded again, and this time she was lucid enough to realize that it was coming from the front door. 

“Jeez, do they not see that we’re closed?” she huffed, pushing herself up from the chair. Her flats went whap-whap-whap against the floor as she walked around the counter towards the door. “Hey! We’re closed!” she shouted while she approached. She jabbed her finger purposefully toward the sign, and the slender man standing there lifted the bottom of his hood to flash her a charming smile. Piercing blue eyes danced beneath a swathe of bright yellow hair, and Ino sucked in a breath. 

“Aw, you won’t even open for an old friend?” 

A heartbeat, then another. Had she strayed into a dream? If it was, it was a shitty thing for her subconscious to do. She stepped closer to the glass, close enough for her breath to fog against the pane. Tentatively, she uttered, “Deidara?”

“The one and only, sweets.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest again. 

“Hey, sweets, you like candy?” he asked, holding out a piece of taffy wrapped in white plastic. She had been sitting at a stool beside some roses for some time, sniffling. She was scared that her parents were out there injured, and she was stuck here. At least she wasn’t alone anymore. She took the taffy with trembling hands and unwrapped it, then popped the pink candy into her mouth. Strawberry. She loved strawberries, and she told him that. 

“I knew it,”he grinned. “Don’t worry, sweets. I’m sure your parents are just fine. I’ll keep you company until you hear from ‘em, okay?” 

The lock clicked when she turned it. The sign rattled lightly against the glass as she slowly eased the door open to peer through the gap. She looked him up and down— it sure looked like him, but damn, he’d grown up to be a looker. Dark gray skinny jeans, spattered with rain, hugged his body in all the right ways. Under his red-and-gray jacket, he wore a muscle tank that left little to the imagination. Ino felt her cheeks flushing as she spied the ridges of his muscles dancing beneath the fabric. 

“You gonna let me in, sweets, or leave me out here in the rain?” Deidara joked, pulling her back to reality. She hurriedly opened the door the rest of the way to allow him in, and he sidled in like he owned the place— just like he had all those years ago. Water squeaked under his sneakers as it gathered against the wood, and when he tossed back his hood to shake out his water-dusted hair, Ino discovered it was nearly as long as hers, tied up into a long ponytail. “I didn’t intend to meetcha like this, but I gotta say, it’s damn ironic,” he smirked as he turned around to face her. Ino hovered in the doorway, wondering if a coincidence like this could truly exist. 

“Yeah,” was all she could think of to say. He gave her a sardonic grin, which made her blush. 

“You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Well… It feels like I have,” she admitted, clasping her hands behind her back while she twisted her body slowly from side to side. “I never thought I would see you again, and yet, here you are… It’s a bit disorienting, especially considering the circumstances are the same.” 

“Yeah, life is funny like that, huh?” Deidara chuckled. He turned to start investigating the flowers perched on the shelves. He reached up to brush his fingertips over the tiny petals of an orange zinnia flower, a smile playing over his thin lips. “I knew I’d find you still working here… That was your dream, wasn’t it? To take over the flower shop?” 

“Yeah,” she blushed. He remembered… Maybe he’d spent the summers thinking about her just like she’d been thinking about him. “What about you? You wanted to be an artist, right?” 

“An artist?” she’d cooed in delight, and Deidara had puffed out his chest in pride. 

“That’s right! One day, I’m gonna be famous!” However, almost as soon as the confidence had come, it dissolved, and he slumped down into his stool. “But… I’ve been having trouble finding inspiration lately. I want to make things, but I just don’t know what to make.” 

“I get like that sometimes with my flower arrangements.” She’d hopped off the stool to totter over to a half-finished bouquet. She’d poked and prodded at the arrangement, adding accent sprigs and then taking them away. “What do you call it? A muse? You just have to find that, right? When I get stumped, I think about great big fields of flowers…” she hummed, taking a deep breath as she imagined it. “And then suddenly I have the answer!”

He’d stared at her a moment, then laughed. 

“That’s girly.” 

“Yes indeed,” he grinned, dropping his hand and turning back to her. “I’m nothing special, just won a few international awards and sold some million-dollar pieces…” he bragged nonchalantly, brushing raindrops off his jacket. He laughed heartily as Ino’s mouth dropped open in utter shock, prompting him to walk forward and press his palms to her cheeks to squish them a little. “Ah, don’t get all starry-eyed on me, sweets.” 

“I can’t help it!” she slurred through his squishing. “Million-dollar pieces? That’s insane!” He let go of her, leaving her cheeks pink and tingly from his touch. “Can I see them? Surely you have pictures, right?” 

Deidara’s lit up at that, like two blue suns sparkling in the gloom. He practically dove his hand into his pocket to grab his cell phone, which made Ino chuckle. He scooted up next to her so she could see his phone screen, and the scent of his spicy cologne mixing with the rainwater made her head swim a little bit. He cycled through the photographs of his artworks, while Ino half-listened to his explanations, because there was something… 

“Is that… me?” The centerpiece of each work was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl. She didn’t want to be narcissistic, but surely that couldn’t be a coincidence too, right? She looked up at Deidara to find a soft, dreamy smile on his face as he gazed gently down at her. 

“Yeah… You remember when I said that I struggled to find inspiration? After we met… You became my muse, Ino.” With a wan sigh, he stowed his phone, and then ran both his hands through his hair. An embarrassed smile played over his mouth, and Ino had to grin, because it was so cute to see him flustered when he’d come in acting all suave. 

“And you’d called it girly,” she teased. 

“I don’t remember that,” he defended in a huff, but she knew he was lying from the blush that spread over his cheeks. “Anyway… I figured it was time I came back here and thanked you.” 

“A cut of your profits would be a very nice thank-you indeed,” she joked, walking over to play with the zinnias. Deidara snorted at that. As she fluffed the flowers, she paid a little less attention to the weather— so when a great big crack of thunder boomed overhead, she couldn’t help but jump and squeal. She felt eight years old again, trapped in this too-small shop while the world seemed to end outside. 

“Still scared of thunderstorms, eh, sweets?” Deidara said softly in her ear. God, when had he snuck up behind her? He had his hands clutching the table on either side of her hips, and his chest just barely brushed against her back. She felt his spicy cologne wafting around her again, and her eyes fluttered as she grew a little hazy. 

“N-no,” she said defensively. “It just surprised me, is all. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

“No,” he murmured, a hand moving in to skim ever-so-lightly over her hip. “No, you aren’t.” He didn’t move further, just played with the edge of her apron— he was waiting for permission. It was like a cheesy romance film; he showed up after ten years, under the same circumstances, saying that she was his muse, and now he was laying the moves on her?

Fuck, how was Ino supposed to refuse? She would be the worst protagonist ever if she did! Besides, she didn’t spend the last ten summers mooning over him for no reason. It had always been in the back of her mind— that fairy tale ending, that one-in-a-million chance, that fantastical daydream she thought would never come true. She looked over her shoulder at him, their breath mixing in the muggy greenhouse air and the rain pounding incessantly above their heads. 

“Why did you come here, Deidara?” she asked in a whisper of a breath. His mouth curled up in a smirk, while his eyes fixed on her own glossy lips. 

“To weather the storm with you,” he answered with a straight face. It didn’t take long for that mischievous lilt to appear on his smile, though. “Aaaaaaaand… Maybe kiss you breathless, if you’re into that.” 

“Why don’t you just kiss me and find out?” she sassed, and her cheek made his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. 

“Not quite so cute and helpless anymore, are you?”

“Afraid not. You’d be surprised how cutthroat the florist business is.” 

He tipped back his head in a raucous laugh, and while he did so, Ino turned around in his arms to face him and rest her palms against his chest. When he finally looked back at her, sighing in amusement, he rested his hands on her hips and twirled the ends of her platinum-blonde hair around his fingertips. Ino fluttered her eyelashes demurely at him— as good an indication as any for him to get on with it.

And get on with it he did. Ino melted into him as he leaned down to brush his lips over hers— softly, tentatively. He rapidly grew in confidence, sweeping her up into a passionate kiss. It felt like their lips slotted together perfectly, like a lock and key, like they’d always belonged together. He really did kiss her breathless, again and again and again, while the rain cascaded down around them. 

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me,” he whispered against her mouth when he finally pulled away. Ino giggled and looked up at him through her lashes. 

“I promised you that I wouldn’t,” she chuckled. “Besides, how could I forget you?”

“I am pretty memorable,” he said with a cocky nod, prompting Ino to thump him playfully on the chest. He purred and wrapped her up in a tight hug, holding her close. “But still… I couldn’t help but worry, just a little bit, that it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.” 

Ino didn’t answer, just smiled into his chest. Some things just didn’t need to be said. The rain picked up outside, pounding against the window with a vengeance, but Ino didn’t mind. Once again, she had someone to weather the storm with.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 43

Title: Revelations

Warnings: profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip​

He’s out the door by five thirty in the morning; leaving behind the warmth and the comfort of his home and making the five block trek to the Hudson River. With no fresh snowfall, the sidewalks and streets are remarkably clear; milder than normal temperatures slowly melting the waist high banks and turning patches of ice into puddles of muck and slush. His strides are long and purposeful. Soles of his runners crunching as they pass over neatly and tightly packed snow; following the foot tracks that earlier pedestrians have left behind. Chin tucked into his chest and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie; anxious to get to his destination and start the day off in the right frame of mind. The headphones worn over a black beanie render him oblivious to sounds of life taking place around him ; the pounding of the music blocking out the sounds of traffic and the rattles and bangs that accompany the city garbage trucks. While he doesn’t make eye contact with those he passes, he notices the nods of greeting; meeting them with the brief turning up of the corner of the mouth and a slight head nod of acknowledgment. It’s what he enjoys most about the area and what eventually sold him on the idea of buying the brownstone; people are friendly enough to smile or offer a quick ‘good morning’, but don't possess enough curiosity to actually stop and speak.

He’s never been a social butterfly. Popular in high school, he’d blended in easily with the ‘jocks’ simply because of his athletic prowess and fairly good looks; girls wanted to date him, guys wanted to befriend him and hang out and attend beach parties. And while he’d followed the mantra ‘fake it until you make it’ and managed to stay quietly on the sidelines, he’d never been entirely comfortable with his status as one of the ‘cool kids’. The guy who’d get irritated when his buddies would make fun of the less popular kids; easily flying off the handle and calling them out on their shit if they said anything degrading towards the special needs students or dared to lob sexual comments towards females. He’d felt more in tune with the ‘loners’; the ones who’d hang out in the back of the cafeteria with their noses shoved in books or who’d eat their lunch sitting in front of their lockers.

It’s how he’d met his ex wife; a newly arrived grade nine student whose family had just moved Port Douglas from Perth. Taller than most females he’d ever encountered, she’d had a thicker build that both guys and girls consistently made fun of; broad shoulders and muscular legs and well defined arms. Shy and soft spoken and never making eye contact with anyone in the hall; thick, wavy blond hair falling over her face as she ignored the whispers and the stares and kept her books and binders clutched tightly to her chest. He’d been the first student to approach her; the last football player to leave practice and finding her sitting on a curb outside of school, waiting for a ride that was running late. And she’d seemed both stunned and terrified when he actually spoke to her; standing above her still clad in his now muddy and sweat soaked practice gear, helmet tucked under one arm and his backpack slung over a shoulder. Introducing himself and offering both a hand in greeting and a ride home; quickly discovering that she had a beautiful smile and the most stunning green eyes he’d ever seen. And she’d made him feel things that none of the other girls ever had; never experiencing that immediate and intriguing spark with any of the prom queens or the cheerleaders that he’d attempted relationships with in the past.

“I know who you are,” she’d said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. It had shimmered in the sunlight; the lightest and most beautiful shade of blond that he’d ever laid eyes on. “Everyone talks about you. You’re like the most popular guy in school. Yet you don’t act like that. You’re not a total ass to people. You’re different.”

It had been the first time that anyone had ever told him that. Truly believing that the company he’d kept had painted him in a far different light. Guilty by association because those he hung around were boisterous and crude; convinced that being good at sports meant they ran the school and didn’t have to show respect to anyone. And it had made him feel good; being seen as kind and compassionate doing wonders for his ego in a way no touchdown or goal scored ever could.

She’d accepted his ride home that night. And the request for a date before she slipped out of the car. Two weeks later they were inseparable and considered themselves ‘exclusive’; holding hands in the hall and having lunch together every day and spending nearly every waking hours outside of school with one another. He was convinced that he met the love of his life and that she’d be the one he’d marry and have a family with. Grow old with.

It had started out well; a brief engagement and married only a week after graduation. She’d been certain she could handle the life of a soldier's wife; he was new to the military but extremely committed and determined to make a lifelong career out of it. And for the most part they’d been happy; a little house not far from his home base, a tight circle of both military and civilian friends, the honeymoon stage lasting well into the second year. Everything changed once he received his first deployment; eight weeks in Afghanistan that quickly turned into six months. When he’d returned home, he’d begun hearing the rumours; she was angry at his absence and his inability to call home on a regular basis and sought solace in the arms of not just one man, but many. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, and she’d been convincing when he’d confronted her about it; pledging her undying love for him and assuring him -with both words and her body- that he was the only man that she’d wanted.

He’d been an idiot. For years. So smitten that he hadn’t wanted to accept the truth and refused to walk away; seeing her as his ‘be all and end all’ and not wanting things to come to an end. He DID love her. Probably a lot more than she had ever loved him. He’d been so terrified of abandonment, that he’d held on even tighter; he’d lost the only other woman he’d ever loved at a very early age and couldn’t stand the thought of losing Sarah too. So he put up with it; sticking by her side no matter how many notches on the bedposts she lodged and no matter how rampant the rumours and the gossip became. Soon that love turned into resentment and sheer tolerance. Letting her live her ‘double life’; pretending to be a happy and adoring couple in public yet knowing she was off running around behind his back the second he was shipped off for a tour. His drinking became a problem; booze numbing the heartache and the loneliness and giving him an escape from the miserable reality of his life. And he’d been a week removed from filing for divorce when the pregnancy test came back; she was expecting a baby and she was adamant it was his despite all the evidence that told him there was no way he could possibly be the father. He couldn’t leave her like THAT. He’d be viewed as the bad guy; the asshole that had ended his marriage WHILE his wife was pregnant. So he’d changed his plans; vowing that he’d stay by her side no matter what and that he’d be the best father and family man he could possibly be.

He’d been in Iraq when Austin was born; informed of his son’s arrival while in Mosul and immediately sent home. And he’d known right away that the kid wasn’t his the second he’d looked at him; not a single feature that could be attributed to either father OR mother. But it hadn’t mattered. The second he’d held Austin in his arms and all of those tiny fingers had curled around just one of his, Tyler had made his decision; he’d stick around and be the boy’s daddy and love him a way he never thought it was possible to love another human being. He’d be the kind of father his kid could one day brag about; attentive and patient and compassionate. Never would he be like his old man. He would cut back on his drinking and get help with his anger management issues and his wife would never have to worry if he’d wander and find someone else; throwing himself one hundred percent into their marriage and in raising a family together. Even if it meant that he’d never be truly happy and that she’d continue her dalliances whenever he was stationed overseas. He’d stay committed to her no matter what; his son never having to grow up without both parents under the same roof or suffer from the trauma of being from a broken home.

The cancer had changed everything. The stress behind caring for a terminally ill child had brought out both his and Sarah’s true sides; they didn’t love each other and could barely stand being in the same room together and all of the pretending and the faking was just wearing them down and making things even worse. But he’d admired her; her commitment to caring for their rapidly deteriorating son, the steadfast determination to beat it ‘no matter what’, and the rock solid courage she displayed when it was evident Austin’s time on earth was coming to an end. And despite her mistakes and her failures as a wife, she HAD deserved better. She had needed a man that would support her; someone that would hold her while she cried and lift her up during the especially dark and trying times and would be by her side during funeral preparations. He’d failed her; running away when things became too painful to witness. And in the end, he’d failed his son as well. Leaving him alone and scared; his final moments on earth spent wondering what he’d ever done to make his father hate him THAT much.

It’s been seventeen years and sometimes it hurts just as much as it did the moment he got the news. The loss still painful and immense; a part of his heart forever torn out of his chest and never able to be put back into place. And it isn’t just the unexplainable and often unbearable sorrow that comes with losing a child; so powerful and pronounced it can bring even the toughest of men to their knees. It’s the guilt and the regret that continue to haunt and eat away at him; silent and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It comes when he’s at his lowest; when the combined mental illnesses are rearing their ugly heads and threatening to drag him down. That’s when the voices come out to play; the cruel and the degrading whispers in his ears that insist he’s EXACTLY the monster that he’s made himself out to be. The kind that abandons those he loves when the going gets tough; physically brave, but an emotional coward. They remind him not only of the mistake he’d made with Austin but those he’d committed within the last twelve and a half years; the lies he told and the promises he broke and the times he raised his voice or put a fist through a wall. The moments he’d slipped and given in to his addictions; the fear of being a failure as a husband and father pushing him to not only the job, but the bottle and the pain meds as a form of coping and a means of escape.

Normally he’s able to fight those voices off; years of therapy -and an extremely patient and attentive wife- helping him develop healthy coping mechanisms. The water remains his favourite and most successful form of escape; the familiar scent of salt that hangs heavily in the air, the sounds of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the sun's powerful and often punishing rays glistening on the rippling surface of the ocean. Sometimes it’s a couple hours spent surfing; the feel of the wind against his face and crispness of the water that seems to cleanse his very soul. There’s days where it’s as simple as a walk along the ocean line; the water lapping at his ankles, wet sand cushioning and moulding around his feet. Or a hike through the forest across from their home. Taking a well beaten path that snakes and winds through the dense gathering of trees and leads to a small clearing; a small wooden staircase he’d erected shortly after they’d moved into the house giving access to a patch of pristine, white beach. It’s a tiny piece of solitude; tucked away and unseen from even the edge of their main property. And they’ve ventured there together many times; taking along that faded and tattered plaid blanket and a picnic lunch and taking advantage of every minute of quality time granted to them. Reconnecting in many ways; playful bantering and light hearted teasing, deep and emotional chats revolving their respective childhoods and the shared loss of the only parent that had loved either of them. Even after twelve and half years there’s never a lull in conversation; always something new and long buried that’s brought to the surface and finally shared after decades of locking it away. It’s never boring when they’re together; a strong friendship and a unique and powerful bond -cemented during that difficult and terrifying time nearly thirteen years ago- serving as a stable foundation for everything else built upon it.

The riverfront is quiet. A half a dozen dog walkers and one lone jogger. The latter a middle aged woman in top of the line athletic gear that he’s encountered a handful of times over the past three years and always offers him a warm smile and a nod in greeting. He pauses at the railing; checking for any missed calls or text messages and taking his time to stretch and warm up. The body feels good today; the stiffness and the pain minimal, the warmer than usual temperatures keeping any arthritis flare ups at bay. There’s a distinct connection between his physical condition and his mental one. When his body feels healthy and he’s able to skip the daily cocktail of pain meds and exercises learned during physio, his mental condition isn’t as fragile. The burden of stress and torment that normally sits upon his shoulders suddenly seeming so much lighter; the usually bottomless and fermented wound in a long ago broken heart not seeming so gaping or festering. He feels energized and renewed; a deep and peaceful sleep and a pain free morning making him feel as if he’s prepared -mentally and physically- to take on the world. It’s still there; the black cloud of depression that hangs over him. But it doesn’t seem so ominous or menacing; those slivers of hope and positivity managing to sneak through.

He takes a moment to relish the view. The peek of the sun on the horizon, the glistening of the snow and the chunks ice that have taken up inhabitance on the surface of the Hudson, the faint glimmer that plays off the windows of the skyscrapers in the distance. There’s moments where he’s truly content here; enjoying the change of pace and admiring the vast differences between New York City and home. Today is one of those days; he feels secure in both where he is and WHO he is. A welcomed outsider as opposed to a strange and mysterious interloper. It’s a reminder that home is wherever his heart lies. His wife and his children sound asleep; warm and safe in their beds only blocks away.

SHE’S his heart; the person that came into his life and turned his world upside down and reminded him that he was still very much alive and had so much more living left to do. Showing him -for the first time in thirty five years- what it was like to be TRULY loved; wholly and completely and unconditionally. Someone so bright eyed and light in heart and spirit; managing to love life and everyone in it despite all of the pain and the suffering that they’d been put through. Giving him what he’d hadn’t even realized he needed; a normal life with everything familiar and mundane and domestic that came with it. Someone to wake up to in the morning; a sleepy smile and soft lips against his own, hands reaching for him and a warm body pressing against his. Going to bed with them every night; those remaining conversations that take place in a darkened, quiet room and the intimacy shared and the love and appreciation expressed.

Once more removing his phone from his pocket, he selects a different playlist and jacks the volume up on his headphones; drowning out the world around him and concentrating on nothing but breaking a sweat and pushing his body to its limits.

*****

It’s shortly after seven when he returns to Gramercy Park. Layers of clothing sticking to sweat soaked skin, beanie long discarded and shoved in his pocket; hair damp and sticking up in several different directions. The tips of his ears and his cheeks flushed from both the chill in the air and the effort and energy he’d put into his run; slow and steady at first, then legs and arms pumping as hard and powerfully as they possibly could. He feels invigorated; a level of energy and exuberance that he hasn’t encountered in weeks. Maybe even months. And it’s a welcome change. Feeling healthy AND content at the same time.

Before returning home he stops at the bodega at the end of the street; filling a basket with the various items Tanner had scrawled onto a post-it note he’d found attached to the fridge. The kid never fails to both surprise and amaze him; constantly finding recipes or ‘science experiments’ on the internet and always insisting on trying his hand at them. Forever curious; holding onto that innocence and that joy and wonder for far longer than any of his older siblings ever had. Phenomenally intelligent and talented; teaching himself how to play the guitar and the piano by ear, his paintings and drawings always appearing as if they’re done by someone so much older and possessing an experienced eye. Emotionally mature and wise, but socially lagging; unable to form friendships and constantly feeling awkward surrounded by groups of people and easily overwhelmed by too much activity and noise. Yet so empathetic and compassionate; easily and powerfully feeling other peoples’ emotions and his moods and behaviour dictated by the mere energies people give off when around him.

The bodega owner greets him with a broad smile and a friendly nod when he approaches the counter. A first name and very few details kind of friendship; Frank the sole proprietor and only full time employee since the store’s opening forty years ago. Short and stocky; a headful of curly salt and pepper hair and a thick moustache and a heavy Bronx accent. Both know very little about the other; talk mostly revolving around the weather and current events and Frank’s never ending curiosity about life in Australia and his overwhelming desire to visit and one day retire there.

“Alone today,” Frank comments, and moves to the small coffee bar -nothing more than a handful of machines and containers for milk and cream- behind the register. It’s an understanding between them; Tyler never needing to ask and Frank knowing his standing order. “That doesn’t happen often. Normally you’ve got at least one or two rug rats hanging off ya.”

“Gotta sneak out when I can.” He empties the contents of the basket onto the counter; the latter he stores in the rack at the end of the counter. “How’s business?”

“Quiet. Same thing every Christmas. The elite like to get away. They’re going to where you’re from, and your kind are coming here. Must be quite the culture shock, huh? Going from the sand and the sun to this crap?” It’s a typical conversation starter; the same opening question Tyler’s been asked every single visit for three years running.

“It’s a change, that’s for sure. Can’t say I wouldn’t rather be back in the sand and the sun. But…”

“But the kiddos and the sweetheart like it. I get it. When my daughter moved to Phoenix with her husband about ten years back, she insisted on coming back here every Christmas. Missed the cold and the white shit too much. Who the hell is crazy enough to miss THAT?”

“Wife says it’s the magic of the season. Wants the kids to experience it. White Christmas and all that. And they enjoy it; skating, sledding, snowball fights, all of that crap. If they’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I hear ya there. Makes a man’s life much more easy and relaxed, that’s for sure. If the littles and the wife are happy, things are a lot more pleasant, know what I’m saying?. They all doing well?”

“No complaints. Got spoiled at Christmas, Aunt’s coming to visit today, big brother’s getting married in three days…”

“Busy, busy. Not rest for the weary. How’s that cute little wife of yours?”

“Still little. Still cute.”

“How you holding up? Must be hard being away from home. From what you’re used to.”

“I miss it,” Tyler admits, and nods his appreciation for the coffee that’s set down in front of him; black, no sugar. “It’ll be nice to get back. It’s quieter there. No one really around. Just our own slice of paradise. Private. Just the way I like it.”

“You definitely are a stickler for your privacy, aren’t ya.”

“I’ve got my reasons. For keeping to myself.”

“Just not a people person, huh?”

“I like people. Some don’t like me. It’s better if they keep away. Especially from my family.”

Frank nods in understanding, then begins ringing up and bagging the purchases. “Gotta like a man that will defend and protect his own, no matter what.”

“You do what you gotta do,” Tyler reasons, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie when he feels his cellphone vibrate against him. Eyes narrowing and a frown playing on his lips when he reads the text sent by his wife; complaining about being woken up from a dead sleep by the ‘new nuisance in town’ repeatedly ringing the doorbell.

He was confident they’d seen and heard the last of Natalie. While he’d been grateful for her assistance in the American Girl store during Addie’s disappearance, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. His already agitated and guilt stricken mood made even worse but yet another attempt on her part to proposition him; boldly stating in front of other customers and his children and granddaughter that while playing hard to get only made him sexier, it was time to put an end to the games. It was obvious -in her mind- that he was attracted to her and was only holding back out of a sense of loyalty and obligation to the woman who’d given him seven offspring.

The sex would be off the charts, Natalie had whispered in his ear, and brazenly attempted a crotch grab while waiting in line at the register. Not caring about the still sobbing Addie in his arms and tightly clinging to him, or the furious glares that Brookie was shooting in her direction. He hadn’t been kind in his rejection; angrily yanking her hand away with enough force to cause her to wince in pain and for his fingers to bruise the skin around her wrist. And he’d kept his tone low yet forceful when he’d told her to back off; he wouldn’t tolerate blatant disrespect towards his wife, especially in front of two of the children she’d not only hand in creating, but had carried inside of her.

“Bad news?” Frank inquires, and pushes the plastic bags across the counter.

“Something I’d rather NOT be dealing with.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket and checks the total on the register; pulling forty from his wallet and waving off the change when Frank begins to hand it over. “But it’s probably better in my hands that my wife’s.”

“Feisty little thing, ain’t she,” Frank chuckles. “I still remember when she told that one kid off for checking out your one girl. Your oldest. She was over there looking at the magazines, minding her own business, and some fucking high school joker was checking her out and making comments to his buddies. Your wife certainly isn’t afraid to mix things up, is she.”

“You don’t mess with a mumma bear. She’s tiny, but she’ll rip you apart,”

Frank grins, “Bet that makes you toe the line, huh?”

“I long ago learned what buttons NOT to push. She looks all cute and sweet and innocent, but trust me, that girl can fuck someone up. I’ll probably see you later.” He gathers up the bags in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. “TJ and Declan will want to come by. They also do when you get the new Archie comics.”

“Already put two aside from them. Gotta treat my best customers right. And speaking of that privacy you like so much…”

Tyler pauses in the doorway.

“You ain’t gonna like what I have to tell you.”

“Not when you put it like that I won’t.” He once more approaches the register. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been in here a few times asking about you. And your family. I meant to tell you yesterday, but you had the girls with you and I didn’t want to bring something up that might spook them or upset them.”

“Someone from the neighbourhood?”

���A newcomer. Some woman. Tall, blond, need a power washer to get all that crap off her face. Why do women do that? Why do they feel the need to smear on the war paint? Looking like damn clowns is what they look like. I don’t want to be stuck in the rain with a girl and turn around and look at her and find damn eyebrows washed away, know what I’m saying? Wake up next to them and all the makeup is gone and you no longer recognize them and you think some strange woman snuck into bed with ya in the middle of the night.”

“What did she want, Frank? What did she want to know?”

“Little questions, mostly. Mostly about you and your wife. How you met, what her name was before she met you, where she’s from originally, family life. That kind of thing. Wanted to know your last name but I told her I had no clue. First names only. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Ask anything about my kids?”

“Just wanted to know their ages, school grades, stuff like that. I didn't have any info to give her and I told her that much. Also said even if I DID know, I wouldn’t cough it up to her or anyone else. Awful nosey, don’t you think? Trying to get up in a man’s business like that?”

“She’s definitely treading on thin ice. I appreciate it. That you wouldn’t tell her even if you did know that stuff.”

“Ain’t nobody's business what you do with your life. And it especially ain’t none of their concern when it comes to children. That’s just creepy as hell, if you ask me. Think she’s up to no good? Trying to cause trouble? With you and the missus?”

“I don’t know what she’s up to.” He moves towards the door. “I’ll find out though. One way or another. Thanks for letting me know. And for having our backs.”

“You and your family have been nothing but good to me, figure I should return the favour. Let me know how it turns out, would ya? Once you find out just what she’s up to. Inquiring minds want to know, and all.”

“I’ll let you know,” Tyler promises, and uses a forearm to push open the door.

“Hey!” Frank calls to him, and he pauses on the threshold. “What IS your last name?”

“Drummond.” The lie rolls easily off the tongue. Almost TOO easily.

“Tyler Drummond,” Frank nods as he considers it. “Got a nice ring to it. You know, you don’t look like a Tyler.”

“Yeah,” he grins, and steps out the door. “So I’ve been told.”

*****

He finds her in the kitchen. Back turned towards the doorway as she waits for the toaster to finish its cycle; repetitively tapping the end of a butter knife against the granite countertop as her body repeatedly shifts weight from one side to the other. Well known evidence of agitation and simmering anger; body always needing to be in motion, anxiety propelled nervous ‘tics’. She’s been fighting her own battle against mental illness for longer than he’s known her; the years of psychological torment inflicted by her mother -and eventually an emotionally, physically, and sexually abusive husband- leaving wounds far deeper and more punishing than anything his body has ever experienced. Medication and therapy have helped, as has finding her own ‘niche’ in the world beyond just being a wife and a mother; running her own business, a once weekly yoga and meditation class, her own strenuous workout plan that he’d helped her create. She’s always managed well considering; panic and anxiety attacks fairly uncommon and periods of deep and crippling depression far and few between.

While he always admonishes her for taking on too much and throwing herself into caring for others instead of herself, she swears that it helps; keeping her mind and her body occupied and not giving her a chance to sit still for too long and dwell on things. He’s sure there’s some PTSD in there. The incident on the Sultana Kamal Bridge still weighs heavily on her; unable to sit down and talk about it without having an emotional meltdown and suffering from the occasional night terror. But she always shrugs off the idea of additional help and supports; insisting she’s fine and just needs to keep busy and that things will pass. They always do. And even though she’s infamous for calling him the most stubborn human on the planet, he’s pretty sure that it’s HER that actually holds that title.

Per Tanner’s written instructions, he leaves the bodega purchases in their bags; carrying them into the pantry and placing them in a plastic tote box marked with his son’s name. The ten year old very particular and detail oriented; extremely neat and tidy and having his own anxiety attacks if anyone dares to upset his ebb and flow. For his seventh birthday, the only gifts he’d requested were a label maker and over two dozen food storage containers; adamant that those were the only things he wanted and didn’t care about the idea of a new bike or surfboard or the latest gaming system. Less than twenty four hours after receiving what he so desperately coveted, he’d used them to reorganize the pantry at home; everything stored in plastic containers and labelled appropriately and throwing a fit if anyone didn’t alphabetical order when putting things back on the shelves. THAT had prompted them to finally seek out a diagnosis for him. They had suspected it for years; Tanner sitting some place on the Autism spectrum. Yet it had still been hard to hear the words come out of the specialist’s mouth; fear and worry and concerns for his future flooding through them as they saw the words neatly printed out in their son’s medical chart.

“Everyone still asleep?” he inquires, as he finally approaches. Standing behind her with his hands on her hips; lips meeting the top of her head as his fingers gently knead the supple flesh. Even when -uncharacteristically- grumpy first thing in the morning, she is always at her most adorable; hair messy and face still puffy from sleep, petite frame clad in her infamous mismatched pyjamas. Today it’s a pair of scrubs with the word Columbia printed across the ass and a faded and tattered t-shirt from his side of the closet; miles too big on her yet somehow sexy at the same time.

“Thankfully. Takota woke up in a panic; the doorbell scared the ever loving shit out of him. You know how it is; things always seem a thousand times louder when you’re asleep. I cuddled with him for a bit; he’s passed out in the middle of our bed now.”

Draping an arm across her collarbone, he presses a kiss to her temple, then watches in amusement as she tends to the toasted bagel now sitting on the plate in front of her; putting enough force behind buttering it that the knife pierces the toast.

“You know…” his lips rest against the side of her head. “...you’re not supposed to stab the damn thing.”

“Better to stab this than walk down the street and stab that bitch in the fucking face,” she reasons. “I don’t think I’m in the position in my life where it would be a good idea to go to prison.”

“Definitely wouldn’t be ideal at this point and time. Not to mention you always complain about how shitty you look in orange. So how about we NOT stab anyone and try to rein in our homicidal tendencies?” Reaching around her, he wrenches the knife out of her shockingly tight and strong grip; completing the preparation of the bagel for her.

She tips her head back to look at him, smiling in appreciation. “I’m mad.”

“I can see that.”

“What is that woman’s major malfunction? Why is she so goddamn insistent on seeing you? I mean, I know you’re hot and the walking and breathing definition of masculinity and you’re enough to make even the old ladies all weak in the knees, but fuck…” she turns around to face him; plate in her hand as she leans back against the counter. “...she is WAY worse than any thirsty females on the playground or at the soccer park.”

“She’s something else alright.” He moves to the kettle boiling on the stove; snagging a clean mug from the drainboard by the sink and a tea bag from a canister on the counter.

“To show up here at all is a dumb ass thing to do. But at seven in the morning? Knowing there’s a house full of littles here? She has a kid of her own. I doubt she’d like if someone popped up on her doorstep and woke her crotch fruit up.”

“I don’t think she gives a shit, Me. About our kids OR her own.”

“She treats that kid like a goddamn accessory. Have you seen the way she dresses that little girl? Fur coats and Gucci and Chanel, a freaking bracelet and earrings from Tiffany’s. The kid even carries a bloody Birkin bag! She’s six! What the hell kind of parent buys stuff like that for ANY kid? Never mind a six year old.”

“A person with money to burn apparently.”

“WE have money to burn. And then some. Our kids wear clothes from Target. The occasional UnderArmour or Nike swag here or there. Most expensive thing on them is their shoes. And not even THOSE are over a hundred bucks.”

“Millie does have that expensive purse,” he points out, as he stands in front of the open fridge door and snags a carton of milk; dumping the preferred and required amount into the steaming mug of tea. “The pink one.”

“The Chanel. Yes, she does have that. And you know why she does? Because when Millie says ‘daddy, I really like that’, daddy goes ahead and buys it for her and doesn’t even bother to check the make or the price tag. That is SOLELY on you.”

“Daddy likes to spoil his girls,” he reasons, offering the mug as he rejoins her. “Especially the oldest one.”

“Millie always HAS been your favourite.”

“I meant YOU,” he presses a chaste peck to her lips when she turns her face up towards him. “Not Millie. I spoil you way more than I spoil any of those kids.”

“And how many times have you been told NOT to?”

“Way too many to count. How many times have I told you that I don’t give a shit what you say and that I’m going to keep on doing it?”

Smirking, she rips a piece of bagel off with her teeth. “Touche.”

“What did she want?” He stands next to her, palms resting on the edge of the counter. “The nuisance?”

“To be just that. A nuisance. I kept telling her you weren’t home. That you’d gone out for a bit. She wasn’t having any of it. Insisted that I was lying and accused me of being jealous and possessive and told me that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep you away from her. Something about 'you can’t stop what the heart AND the body want'.”

He gives a derisive snort.

“I don’t know. By that point I had already tuned out and was fantasizing about how I was going to kill her and dispose of her body. What the hell is her issue? I get that she has a raging female boner for you and in all fairness, I don’t blame her. But that woman is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. And I don’t use that term lightly. I save that for the REALLY crazy ones.”

“Did she say what she wanted? Why she even came over here?”

“You mean other than to jump on your dick? Or to convince me that you and her have some undeniable sexual chemistry and that you’re reluctant to leave me because I’m clingy and needy and have trapped you with half a dozen kids? Plus one.”

“She said that?”

“Every last word. Apparently you and her have really hit it off. There’s some kind of powerful and potent sexual and emotional connection between the two of you. News to me.”

“She’s fucking delusional. You realize that, yeah?”

“Big time delusional. I know what you’re like. I know how much you love me and your kids; how you’re unwaveringly faithful and loyal. I’ve never doubted any of that. I’ve never had a reason to. If you wanted out, you would have left a long time ago. You’ve had your chances.”

“I don’t want out. I’m all in. I’ve been all in for twelve and half years. I’m all in for the rest of my life. So sorry, Me. You’re stuck with me. Until the bitter end.”

“I can think of worse fates. But what the hell is her problem? Who does shit like this? Calling on another woman’s husband? Making up bullshit like that? Trying to cause problems between people?”

“A crazy person, that’s who. That’s all she wanted? To see me?”

“To give you Addie’s mitts back. I guess she left them at the American Girl store and crazy lady picked them up. Couldn’t she just leave them in the mailbox instead of showing up and ringing the doorbell at seven in the morning? Is that NOT what a normal person would do?”

“I think we’ve already established that she’s NOT normal.”

“You didn’t tell me she was there yesterday,” Esme sips at her tea. “At the American Girl place.”

“I thought I did.”

“That’s my sworn enemy. I would definitely remember if you told me something like that.”

Tyler shrugs. “Guess it just slipped my mind with everything else that was going. With Addie flipping out and me feeling like shit for losing it on her, telling you about the neighbour wasn’t the first thing on my agenda. I probably should have, but…”

“So she just happened to be there? At the American Girl lunch?”

“Yup. Showed up with her kid.”

“Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think? That she’d be there on the EXACT same day? I don’t mean to go all paranoid and possessive and jealous wife, but…”

“You’re not paranoid. And aren’t we all a little possessive? And jealous? When we love someone? I’m that way with you. I don’t like guys checking you out and making comments towards you and all that. And if that makes me possessive and jealous…” shrugging, he reaches for her tea and takes a sip.

“This woman has serious issues, Tyler. She’s nuts. Certifiably, I think. Didn’t you already tell her to leave you alone? That you’re married? Happily?”

“More than once.”

“Does she not realize some men actually DO value the sanctity of marriage? Mind you, it doesn’t seem like many these days, but still.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of married men she’s used to, Me. I don’t think I fit HER definition of a married man. And it’s not for the lack of trying to scare her off. I’ve tried. Several times. Doesn’t seem to be getting through.”

“She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. Still, I don’t like someone pissing in my front yard. Continuously. Seems awful weird; her somehow showing up nearly everywhere you go. I can see the park being a one off; she was new to the community, saw a parent there and took it upon herself to try and make friends. But everything else? When you took the kids for lunch, when you and I were on our date; we SAW her watching us from her living room window. She didn’t hide it.”

“That was a little...odd,” Tyler admits.

“And how many times has she suddenly popped into the bodega when you’ve been there with the boys?”

“I’d say nine times out of ten.”

“That’s way too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I do think that. I also think we need to talk about it. About all of this.”

“Oh God…” she grimaces. “...you ARE leaving me for her.”

“What?” He can’t help but laugh. “No, baby. NO. I am definitely NOT leaving you for her. For ANYONE. I already told you; I’m in this right to the end. Whenever that may be. There’s no one else, Me.” Draping an arm across her shoulders, he pulls her into him; lips meeting her temple and lingering for several seconds. “There’s just you. There’s always just been just you. Always will be.”

“And we need to talk about her because…”

“Because there’s more going on than you realize. More than just her showing up places.”

Esme frowns, mug poised at her lips. “Uh oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Believe me, I don’t like it either. What’s going. But you’re right; that woman definitely DOES have issues.”

“Other than being a stalker you mean?”

“I don’t know EXACTLY what’s going on. Or how serious it is. But I don’t like it. What she’s up to.”

“And coming from someone with your instincts and your background? That’s saying something. Do I need to worry about it? Is it something we need to really watch out for and take seriously and…?”

"I honestly don't know, babe. But she knows stuff. About us. She somehow knows our name. Called me by first AND last yesterday. I've never told her what it is. And I highly doubt you did."

“I want to stab the woman in the face with a butter knife, so I think it's safe to say I’m NOT going to be out there telling her personal things. How WOULD she find that out? It’s not like it’s advertised anywhere. Frank doesn’t know it, Desi wouldn’t say anything.”

“She tried to blame TJ. Said she talked to him when he was out shovelling snow and that he coughed up the info. I confronted him and he denied it. Said that she DID stop to talk to him and all he told her was his first name. That’s it. Told me he knows better than that; not to tell strangers much about us.”

“TJ doesn’t lie. Not since he got caught...on camera...denting your truck and trying to tell me that it wasn’t him. He learned his lesson, believe me. And out of all the kids who would be a blabber mouth? He’s the last one. He idolizes you. The last thing he wants to do is piss you off or disappoint you. So when you tell him what to do or what NOT to do, he listens.”

“So how did she know? If neither of us told her and Desi didn’t say anything and we know it’s not TJ…”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t been around any of the other kids. They’d all say something. They’d tell us if she was asking questions.”

“She had to find out from somewhere. Someone had to tell her. It’s not like that info is just out there for anyone to look up. You don’t even use a real last name on the internet. We’ve been careful. We locked everything down five years ago. Made sure people couldn’t find shit out. But somehow…”

Sighing heavily, she carries her empty mug and dirty plate to the sink, then rejoins him; standing between his legs with her hands on his hips. “Do you think it's something serious? Something we need to worry about?”

“Are you asking me if I think she’s a threat?”

Esme nods.

“I don’t get that feeling from her. I don’t think she’s the type that gets her hands dirty. More the type that aids the person that does.”

“That sounds familiar. I distinctly remember someone else who used to do exactly that.”

“Let’s not compare the two of you. You’re nothing alike.”

“I used to help people get their hands dirty. I used to ask all the questions and find out all the info and then pass it along to guys like you. Sounds like she might be into the same kind of thing. Have you looked into her? Find out anything about her?”

“Not much to find out. Couple things here and there but nothing serious. I know she used to be in a relationship with the District Attorney in Chicago. There was a write up about it; the two of them at some charity event a few years back.”

“Is he the ex husband?”

“If he is…” he tucks her hair behind her ears, then cradles her face in his palms; thumbs repeatedly brushing against her cheeks. “...she’s never gone by his last name. I checked into that, too.”

“Maybe try Nik. She’s got a real knack of finding things about people. Things they’ve long kept buried. I’m sure she’d look into it. Probably have better luck than you.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll go in that direction. But I was thinking…”

She smirks. “I don’t think I like the way you said that...”

“...that if you still had any of your old contacts….”

“My old contacts? I haven’t spoken to any of them in years. Not since the whole fuck up with Nathan and the fake papers from the Marines. I haven’t talked to any of those people since.”

“What about people in the game? That you worked for BEFORE Nik? You ever talk to any of them?”

“There’s a couple I interact once in a while but mostly about non job related stuff. Just random checking in on each other and seeing how our lives are going. You’re not serious about this, are you? About wanting ME to try and find things out? I haven’t had a finger on that particular pulse in a long time.”

“The circle’s pretty tight,” Tyler reasons. “Once you’re in it, you’re never really out of it. There’s guys I haven’t talked to in years but I know I could call if I needed a favour. Maybe you’ve got a couple of those too. People that would do you a solid if you needed them to.”

“I thought we agreed that I’d put that part of my life behind me? We talked about this. After I royally messed things up by not realizing those papers sent to me were fake. I mean, it’s practically my fault that Nathan managed to get a hold of you in the first place.”

“Okay, we’re NOT going to go there. Because none of that is true. It happened. There’s no one to blame. He knew he couldn’t take me in a fair fight. Knew he had to get me from behind. Take me down.”

“And he wouldn’t have been able to had I NOT called you. Had I realized those papers weren’t the real deal, you never would have gone there and confronted him. We would have waited for the legit documents and you would have known how unstable he was. Instead, I just sent you in there and…”

“Let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t do anything. I went in there on my own. It was my choice. I had the chance; to walk away and leave him there. And I didn’t. I went back in. You had nothing to do with it.”

“If I’d known about the papers…”

“YOU had nothing to do with it,” he repeats. “There was no way you could have known what we were dealing with. Same way I couldn’t have known. It happened. Nathan did what he did.”

“Yeah, and you almost died. Because I was careless and…”

“Stop,” he presses a kiss to her lips in order to silence. “We are NOT going to talk about him. Nothing good ever comes out of talking about that asshole. So can we not? Bring him up? Can we let this go?”

“I just…”

“Drop it,” he orders, and then pecks the tip of her nose. “Please.”

“All I’m saying is…”

“Oh my god, woman. Stop.” Placing a kiss to her forehead, he gathers her into his arms; pulling her tightly into him, hands locking together at the small of her back. “We’re not going to talk about this. Five years ago. It never leads to anything good. And I really do not feel like fighting with you. Not after the night we had last night.”

Smiling, she wraps both arms around his waist. “It was a good night.”

“A very good night.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You were fucking incredible.”

“I was, was I?” She looks up at him, bottom of her chin resting on his chest. “You weren’t too shabby either. You know how to raise the bar impossibly high, I’ll tell you that much. And that whole thing in the tub? We need to do that again. ASAP.”

“Thought you didn’t enjoy it. You were practically having a temper tantrum.”

“I was frustrated. Do you know that aggravating it is? Getting that close and having someone just yank the carpet out from under you? Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“Actually, I do. You’ve done it to me. Many times. But if you want to do it again…”

“I do. There’s a lot of things I want to do again. And again. And again. With you.”

“Baby, I aim to please.”

“And you do. Very well, as a matter of fact. Even though I am still slightly embarrassed by my reaction. You know, when I…in the tub...when you…”

“When I made you squirt?” He chuckles when she gives an embarrassed groan and buries her face in his shirt. “Why does that make you all shy and shit? I’m the last person you should be embarrassed around. We’ve been doing some dirty shit since day one. You think you would have stopped getting embarrassed a long time ago. I’ve only been your husband for twelve and a half years.”

“It’s just so...I don’t know...gross.”

“Gross? It’s fucking hot. It’s a turn on. Knowing I can make you do THAT? It doesn’t happen often; you getting THAT worked up.”

“Well I guess you need to try harder,” she teases, and gives a yelp when he brings both palms down onto her ass in ringing slaps and then squeezes tightly. “I have to say, husband. You really are a man among men. I definitely hit the jackpot when I landed you. Smartest thing I ever did; letting you put a ring on it.”

“Even though you didn’t want to marry me at first?”

“For the record…” her hands move to his sides, softly and repeatedly moving over his ribs. “...I never said I didn’t want to marry you. I said I was scared to get married again. That I was worried we were going to fuck things up. And I loved you and I didn’t want us to fuck them up. We both had pretty bad track records when it came to marriage.”

“That’s because we both married the wrong people the first time around.”

“I was just scared. I didn’t want things to go bad between us. Not when they already seemed so good. And if that meant staying the happily unmarried couple…”

“But I wasn’t okay with that. I wanted to get married. To you. And before you ask? No. Not because you were having Millie. She had nothing to do with it. I would have wanted to marry you even if there hadn’t been a baby. But I’m glad there was. She’s pretty awesome. They all are.”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at him. “They are. We’ve done good work, Tae. We definitely make some pretty damn beautiful babies. And it’s kind of sad; that there won’t be anymore. Kind of bittersweet. But I think it’s time for us, don’t you? Time for you and I to concentrate on each other for a change. I don’t want that to be all there is to us. Two people raising kids together.”

“There’s way too much between us for it to ever be just that,” he assures her. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he once more pulls her tightly into him; fingers of his other hand biting into the cheek of her ass when he covers her mouth with his.

The kiss is long and soft and slow; her arms wrapping around his waist as she stands on the top of his feet in order to give her that little bit of extra height. Her lips moving against his in perfect unison; moulding and fitting together in ways he’d never experienced with anyone else before. Bodies so in sync with each other; always so responsive and eager.

“I have another favour to ask,” he says when he pulls away, hands settling on her hips.

“You keep kissing me like that?” Her eyes are still closed as she sighs heavily and dreamily. “ For the rest of my life? You can ask as many favours as you want.”

“I don’t want you causing issues with Riley. Over the fentanyl.”

Her eyes snap open; a frown curving her lips as she looks up at him.

“She didn’t give it to me with bad intentions. It wasn’t like she was hooking me up with a fix. That’s not what I wanted it for. It had nothing to do with being an addict and everything to do with the pain I was in. I had screwed that knee up and it was going to be months before they could do another reconstruction and I couldn’t take much more. That’s how bad it was. How bad I was suffering. And I knew the doctor wouldn’t give me anything else. That he’d think I was just drug seeking; in it to get a high.”

“So you asked her.”

“I couldn’t ask Ovi. I knew he’d tell you. And I didn’t want him getting caught and his whole career going down the toilet before it even started. So when Riley came up here that summer, I asked her for something stronger. To hook me up with something that could help. And she put up a good fight; she wasn’t going to go give in. I’m the one who convinced her to. Promised I’d only use it when necessary.”

“And did you? Use it just when necessary?”

“Only when the pain got to be too much. She gave me enough pills to last a couple months. I only took eight. In the two weeks we were here. That’s it. When we were ready to go back home, I put them in the medicine cabinet and never thought about them again.”

“Until the other night.”

Tyler nods. “It scared the fuck out of me, Esme. How easy it was to take to them. To remember they were even there. I didn’t even give it a second thought. I just grabbed them and took them. No hesitation.”

“You realize how badly that could have gone, right? You don’t play around with that stuff, Tyler. That is some heavy duty shit and you just went ahead and took six of them and…”

“Not one of my finer moments.”

“It could have killed you. That many. You know that, right? It could have killed you. Did you even stop to think about that? About what would happen? How I’d find you dead? On Christmas morning? Did that even occur to you?”

“No,” he admits. “And that’s what scared me. The fact I didn’t think of any of that. That I just took the stuff. Like I’d done it a million times before.”

“Did you WANT something bad to happen?”

“No, babe. I didn’t. I just needed to shut my brain up. I just needed to get away from it. I needed peace and fucking quiet. An escape. From what goes on in my head.”

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. No matter how hard it will be for me to hear or how bad you think it will hurt me. I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that? Be honest with me?”

“I can.”

“Do you want to die? Right now. Right this second. Is that what your brain is telling you? Is that what it’s BEEN telling you? That it would be better if you weren’t here? That my life and the kids’ lives would somehow be better if you weren’t around anymore? Has it been telling you that?”

“How did we get onto this? I was just asking you not to go off on Riley. That she was only trying to help and…”

“Please don’t do that. Deflect. I’m scared too. It frightens me that you found it so easy to take those pills. That you didn’t even stop to think of what could happen. How it could have killed you and what that would have done to me. And the kids. That isn’t like you; you weigh options and you analyze every scenario and you consider every possible consequence. So I need to know. Did you take those pills because your brain is telling you that you’re better off dead?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion and she valiantly fights back against a flood of threatening tears. “...I need you to tell me the truth. I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with here. I need to know just how serious this is. I need you to tell me what’s REALLY going on in your head. So we can get past this and figure shit out and work on how to help you.

“I don’t…”

“I know you’re just trying to protect me. And believe me, I love you so much for that. The fact you’ve always protected me. No matter what. But right now I need to know the truth. Or we won’t get past this. Do you want to die?”

He swallows heavily. “Sometimes.”

“When was the last time you thought of it? When you felt that way?”

“Couple days ago.”

She briefly looks away in an attempt to control her emotions. “That night you took the fentanyl? Did you want to die then?”

He nods.

“Jesus….” she rakes a hand through her hair, then places it over her mouth; tears managing to escape. “...I mean, I was pretty sure you were going to say yes. We’ve been in this place before. I’ve taken a loaded gun out of your hand, for crying out loud. But to actually hear it…”

“I’m sorry, Me. I’m sorry that my brain is the way it is. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I know you can’t help it. I know it’s an illness and I know first hand how bad it can get. But I just…” she takes a deep, quivering breath and slowly releases it. “....I need to go and get some air or something. I need to just get out and get my shit together. I need…”

“Baby….” he attempts to move his hands to her shoulders, but is foiled when she takes a step backwards.

“I need to get out of here. Just for an hour. Just to clear my head and accept this and figure out a way to deal with it. It’s not you, Tyler. You realize that, right? Please tell me you realize that.”

“I do. I do realize that.”

“I just don’t know how much more I can take,” she admits. “I am so close to breaking and if that happens, I won’t be of any use to you. Or the kids. I just need some fresh air and a chance to get myself together and come to terms with this. With just how bad it actually is. Can you give me that? Just that little bit of time?”

“Of course I can.”

“It’s not you,” she repeats, and moves closer to him. Once more perching herself on top of his feet; both arms reaching up to circle his neck. “I need you to know it’s not you.”

“I know that, Me.” He cradles her face in his palms; fingers gently brushing away the tears that glisten on her face. “Just tell me you’re coming back. That you’re not just going to walk out of here and leave me and our kids. Tell me…”

“I’m not leaving you. Or them. I just need some time. An hour, even. Just to get my shit together. Just to sort through all of this stuff in my head. I’m not going anywhere, Tyler. I’m not walking away from you. From our family. From US. That isn’t even an option.”

“I’m just worried you’re going to walk out and realize it’s just too much. That I’M too much.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she assures him. “I love you. My whole world begins and ends with you. I need to be able to help you. And right now? I don’t think I can. I feel like I'm drowning. Or like I’m walking on really thin ice and one bad step is just going to pull me under. And I need to be okay. I need to be strong. For you.”

“I need you to be strong for YOURSELF. Why haven’t you told me any of this? About how you’re feeling? Being this close to the edge? Why…?”

“Not right now, okay? I’m going to go and get dressed and get some air. And when I come back, we’ll talk. We’ll get TJ and Millie and Alannah to watch everyone and we’ll sit down and talk. Get it all out in the open. BEFORE Riley gets here. I’m coming home, you know. It’s not like I’m disappearing off the face of the earth. I WILL be back.”

“And I’ll be here. No matter long how it takes.”

“An hour,” she promises, and turns her face up to his when he leans down to kiss her. “I didn’t lose you to Dhaka,” she says, and places her hands over his; eyes closing as his lips press against her forehead. “And I sure as hell won’t lose you to your own mind.”

[spicy-raddish]

So, in my last post I said that I literally hated Japan Sinks 2020, but that I was scared to voice my problems with it, from a writing standpoint, due to so many people genuinely liking the show. It seems I'm not alone at all. A lot of people encouraged me to make this post, so, here we go...

(This is going to be a long one)

Everything Wrong With: Japan Sinks 2020 (and it's a lot):

this post contains spoilers, obviously.

The music doesn't fit the mood of the show, like, at all. Don't get me wrong, the music is actually good, a lot of it is in my study playlist now, but it absolutely doesn't fit the scenes that accompany it. e.g. the dad gets literally blown up by a ww2 bomb leaving only his severed hand behind *happy music intensifies* this just cheapens the entire scene and removes any tiny fragment of emotional response to what you're being shown. And this happens all the time.

The animation... The backgrounds and general scenery look absolutely stunning, but the characters look genuinely awful. At times, I would be legitimately crying whilst watching a scene, not out of sadness, but out of laughter at just how bad the characters look. Extremely lazy drawing, and if the character isn't the one talking, they just freeze their animation for minutes at a time, not even making them blink or move slightly, just... frozen there.

Go and his constant use of cringy Engrish. I get it, he's half filipino and he looks up to an English-speaking YouTuber. But he goes into this broken English way too frequently, and again, it doesn't match the tone of what's happening.

How did Mari survive the first tsunami? Also, why didn't we get to see the first tsunami? Or the plane crash-landing in the bay and hitting the bridge? Why do we never actually get to see these large-scale events that are supposedly impacting our characters? Also, if Mari supposedly was in a plane crash, then ended up in the river where a tsunami hit, and she somehow managed to swim out of the river during a tsunami, how does she then have the energy and strength to walk all the way through the city to the shrine, and doesn't even seem out of breath? Also, if Ayumu was in that changing room which resulted in people being literally severed in half, how is her phone not even smashed? Cracked a lil? No?

THE POLAROIDS. I actually turned the show off the second time Mari pulled her camera out for a group photo, and I had to force myself to go back and finish it. Why on earth do the characters keep insisting on taking these chipper polaroids like the literal apocalypse isn't happening around them? Is Mari emotionally stunted? I don't understand. Is it supposed to be making some kind of point? I don't understand...

The characters seem to have zero reaction to awful events happening around them, or they comment on it and move on immediately.

Random magical cult city growing serious amounts of weed... Literally everything that happens there is just awful writing. So far, everything that has happened has been a natural disaster, and they explain them as being due to the tectonic plate movements. So we're supposed to be believing all of this as possible. Explainable natural events. You can't build a world around this and then suddenly introduce magic out of the blue. Not to mention, what even happened in the end? Did 'Mother' reincarnate herself? How? Why?

The weird nightclub scene and the pensioner sex scene are both two scenes I could do without.

The weird trickster guy who keeps pulling fake eyes/ears/noses out of nowhere. Again, he ruins the tone of the show. Not only that, continuity just doesn't exist with him. He says he's from England, but speaks English with an American accent. And then he says he grew up in Yugoslavia. Like, which one is it sweetie?

Why is this old man just randomly addicted to morphine?

You can't expect the audience to have a legitimate emotional response to character deaths if you introduce and kill off new characters so frequently, whilst simultaneously not really telling us anything about them that would cause us to care that they're gone.

Huh, what do you know, episode 8 was actually kind of good-ish, and the only reason it was good was because we were left with only two characters, the characters we've known right from the start, meaning we have at least some reason to care about them. And there's none of the random happy music. And Go keeps his Engrish to a minimum. And neither of them dies in a freak accident that gives the animators reason to show more body horror out of nowhere for shock value.

THE RAP BATTLE. At this point, I genuinely thought that this show had to be satirical. Like, there is just no way this is supposed to be a serious show. Again, the tone is non-existant now. For some reason this show likes to be really self-deprecating towards Japan at every available opportunity and they just went full speed with this rap battle. Like, I get that maybe the writers thought, oh, we've been showing a lot of bleak scenes, let's give some comedic relief. But that only works if you haven't had happy music blaring this entire time, combined with hilariously out-of-place English phrases and the weird Yugo-Brit-American guy with fake eyes, etc. That only works if this was a serious show to begin with.

I'm making a separate point just for the godawful animation during Kite's weather balloon scene. Jesus Christ.

The fact that they built a new mini-Japan/Tokyo for the surviving Japanese people, knowing full-well that Japan is going to re-emerge at some point, thus destroying this new island and killing its inhabitants in the process.

We're supposed to believe that nobody, not one nation, tried to claim the area that Japan was once in for themselves, supposedly as a good will to the Japanese people, even though it would be a prime location for fishing, etc. And there's definitely not enough Japanese people left to try and contest it.

I forgot to mention the fact that the intro doesn't match the show either.

There is a consistent issue with the show not understanding the tone it's supposed to be having. Combining the happy intro, happy music throughout, characters' lack of response to what's happening around them, laughable animation and random "comedy relief" aspects like the foreigner and the rap battle, you're left with a show that is unable to make you feel the way it wants you to feel. It seems like a joke, you want to see it as satirical, but the show continues to act like these events should be taken seriously. Now, I've seen anime that does this kind of thing before, having the tone of one genre whilst actually being another, but in a good way. An example would be Gakkou Gurashi (School Live). But Japan Sinks 2020 seems to do this unintentionally. It's just... Funny. I don't think I cared that a single character died. And that, in itself, is sadder than the entire show.

If you've made it through this post, congratulations. As someone who is both a writer and a fan of apocalyptic/natural disaster fiction, this show hit a nerve and I needed to speak out about it. Especially since I'm seeing it be praised so much online!