#(ALSO I FORGOT IT WAS SUNDAY UNTIL I LOOKED AT THE DASH)

[anewinternational]

A Traveller’s Guide to Lost and Later Songs

For those who may appreciate some background detail, I offer below my workings.

All audio references refer to recordings from the secret playlist, “Lost and Later, Early Days”- here 

#1 - Loverboy (19/01/13) 

On the cusp of lost and later, this song is something of both.  Written in the months before the revolution (earliest demo in the files is dated 19th January 2013), I was imagining something like Gene Pitney sings Misirlou, produced by Joe Meek.  I remember Loverboy getting its debut at a Hogmanay show in Glasgow’s Old Hairdressers.  Halfway through the song, a jolly fellow in high spirits took to the dancefloor and did “the dance of the two ales” (a self-explanatory dance which requires no partner).  I took that as a positive sign: the booze equivalent of two thumbs good. Loverboy retained its place in our live set until the Fabulon pre-production rehearsals.  Then, at a summit in the Laurieston bar with producer-in-chief Colin Elliot, the Politburo decided that Loverboy’s face didn’t quite fit the new regime (see also “Ghost Light”).  The song committed the youthful folly of trying to say everything and be everything to all people, rather than seeing a world in Blake’s grain of sand.  Its sprawling structure didn’t quite hang together and forgot the golden rule of pop music: get to the chorus, get to it already and get there by yesterday (people are busy you know and we don’t have time for your three-minute instrumental breakdown).  Compared to “Valentino”, its more popular elder sibling, Loverboy looked like the scruffier black sheep of the family who, perhaps if freed from the burden of fitting in with its peers and trying to impress, may yet come good.  It needed time; time that we didn’t have back then.   These days, well, it often feels like there’s nothing but time, even as it ebbs away until, all at once, the day has gone, a little like that line in Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises”– “How did you go bankrupt?" Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.” Anyway, whether we realise it or not, time is, and always will be, pressing.  So, Loverboy come in, come in from the cold and tell all the others too, for now is the hour of the outcast. Pariahs of the world unite. Tonight, we run with the underdogs.  I still remember where all the bodies were buried and there is going to be a reckoning

#2 Ghost Light (14/04/10)  

A synth-pop devotional in praise of the light, 14th April 2010 at 9.50am is the earliest noted record in the archives for this one.  It sounds uncharacteristically early in the morning for me but, as the politicians like to tell you, statistics don’t lie. The night before, I had been out drinking with my friend Paul Tasker of the Doghouse Roses.  We decided to round off a very enjoyable evening with whisky and tunes back at Paul’s flat during which I remember Paul modelling a beautifully made Swedish Army greatcoat which he’d picked up somewhere or another on the internet.  He cut quite a dash as he marched smartly up and down his living room, swaying his whisky to and fro with a martial air.  Among various other pressing issues up for discussion that evening, Paul mentioned that he had an old synthesiser he was looking to get rid of and did I want it?  That sounds like a laugh, I thought, and we settled on the princely sum of £20. The next morning, I woke to find I was now the proud owner of a Yamaha SK10 Symphonic Ensemble.  There it was, propped against the wall of my bedroom.  Oh well, I thought, I had certainly woken up to worse.   I plugged it in, switched it on and quickly realised that I had got lucky here. What a lovely noise.  I thought of arcades and 1980s computer games, John Hughes movies, pastel-coloured leg warmers....  There was a string setting that sounded just like Phil Oakey and Giorgio Moroder’s “Together in Electric Dreams”.  I was instantly transported to a childhood kitchen scene - my sister and I doing the Sunday dinner dishes whilst we listened to the Top 40 on a state-of-the-art Sanyo transistor radio and singing along to “Electric Dreams”.  Then, light speed forward 20 years and dancing to the very same song with my friend Dan Mutch in an empty and just about closing Edinburgh bar after stopping in for one last drink, two children trying to stay up past their bedtime.  Like happy news, unexpected and unlooked for, the song soared euphorically out of the bar’s massive speakers as Dan and I pushed our drinks aside in shared joy to find that the dancefloor was there all along, like the yellow brick road, right underneath our feet and we didn’t even notice it. Music is time travel. I’ve often thought that the synth pop wizards were really piano balladeers, heirs to a grand tradition but operating under different conditions, in different times.  Pop by other means.  Pop, of course, must always be by any means necessary, or at least by any means available, but I wonder what Vince Clarke would have created if he found himself behind a baby grand in 1920s Broadway, or if Cole Porter was given a Moog to fool around with. A lovely sound can in itself be an inspiration.  The SK10’s string setting made me feel like it was hard to go wrong.  A riff seemed to present itself immediately to me; then it was just a question of which chords sounded good beneath that riff.  Being something of a musical illiterate, I often play wrong chords.  But sometimes the wrong notes sound better than the right ones.  It can, at times, be hard to keep up with my mistakes. I tend to be a music first writer.  I travel lightly and assume the lyrics will meet up with me later on, somewhere further down the road.  In the meantime, my notes-to-self include: - make a joyful noise along to the music   - which words does this noise sound like?   - what does the music make me think of and/or feel?   This one made me think about disco lights.  Yes, that’s what I’d do.  I’d write a song about disco lights.  And so, the song began travelling under the name “Gold Silver”. “Gold Silver” made it as far as the “Come to the Fabulon” studio demos, recorded in Red Eye Studios, Clydebank in 2012-13.  Although there was a variety of styles among these demos there is, you might say, a fine line between variety and anomaly.  In this context “Gold Silver” sounded like a completely different band and, much as that in itself appealed to me, the song was, by majority decision, disappeared around the time of the Fabulon album rehearsals of 2013.  During a band meeting in the Laurieston Bar with producer-in-chief Colin Elliot (see also “Loverboy”), I distinctly remember “Gold Silver” being given its marching orders, packed off to the Siberia of Song.  I believe the term “Eurovision reject” was used.   But remember: we throw nothing away.  And another thing, while we’re here; I really like Eurovision.   I remember Drew Barrymore’s lines in “Donnie Darko”, about how the words “cellar door” were considered by many to be the most beautiful in the English language.  A matter of taste, of course.  For me, as a Eurovision fan, the most beautiful words I ever heard were “Come in Helsinki”. So, “Gold Silver”, a song out of time and place, found itself banished to the margins, perhaps until some future time, maybe our Eurovision entry.  Or our lockdown album.   Come the lockdown, the band’s campaign shifted to the home front.  With the mobilisation of all able-bodied songs – past, present and future - I found myself dusting off “Gold Silver” only to notice I hadn’t quite gotten around to finishing the lyrics (so much of life is about managing disrepair).  This was around the time of the closing of the theatres when the image of the ghost light, a tradition I’d never heard of until then, began to do the rounds.  The image and idea of the ghost light made me think that the lights in the song needn’t only be on the dancefloor; a thought which gave the song its final title and helped me to finally finish that thing I started on a bargain £20 synthesiser one hungover morning, 10 years previously.   I think the ghost light is a noble tradition, an arresting image and an eerie reminder that there will be times when there is no light other than that which we create for ourselves: in the empty theatres, clubs and bars; in song, in dance and in every whistle that tries to charm the darkness.

#3 Drunk is a holiday  (1996-2021) 

“Ought we to be drunk every night?" Sebastian asked one morning.   "Yes, I think so."   "I think so too.”   ― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited   The chorus melody for “Drunk is a Holiday” came to me, perhaps fittingly enough, in the middle of a hangover. I would date that hangover at around 1996, back when I was living in a bedsit in the Southside of Glasgow. The TV series of “Brideshead Revisited” was being repeated on Saturday evenings around then and I remember staying in to watch it over the course of several weeks. It helped to keep me off the booze. My favourite scene was the one with Sebastian and Charles, lounging by a fountain and sipping champagne in a decidedly louche manner. After their minimal, yet solemn exchange, as quoted above, which felt like a pact or vow, Sebastian falls into the fountain with his bottle of champagne. I remember applauding the telly at that bit. I, too, wanted to fall into fountains with bottles of champagne. Unfortunately, I was unemployed at the time and my limited means meant opportunities for such indulgence were few and far between.   But picking up the guitar, the songs and all that - that was free.   I often have musical ideas far beyond my capabilities of actually realising them. Sometimes it takes me years to catch up. Although the chorus melody came easily enough, I had no idea what to do with it. I tried marrying it off to all manner of unlikely suitors but nothing lasted. Then, other, easier songs came along and the melody was set aside until some later time, to be confirmed.   The next recorded sighting was 2006 on a home demo. By this time, my circumstances had improved so that I had managed to upgrade my humble abode to a hovel in Partick. I was, more or less, gainfully employed to the point where I could even, should I choose, buy my own bottle of champagne, if not quite my own fountain. One evening, whilst buttering a slice of toast in the kitchen, a stray verse suggested itself to me which carried echoes of that chorus from what you might ironically call my Brideshead Days. I dusted down the old chorus, tentatively placing it next to this new verse and felt a little shiver as they clicked snugly together like missing jigsaw pieces, lost to one another all these years. It was good news from a former life, music as time travel. A more advanced demo in 2008- including bass, drums, guitars and early lyrics- shows that we had begun working on the song as a band and it was by then travelling under the name “Drunk is a Holiday”, perhaps in reference to its origins. But after this, the trail goes cold once more. I presume the song must have been deemed too cheerful for the last Starlets album in 2009. Soon afterwards came ANI’s Year Zero and in the post-revolutionary era which followed, songs about champagne and fountains would have been dimly viewed as irredeemably bourgeois. And so, the song was lost again.   Or not lost, perhaps never really lost at all, rather searching. Or waiting. Waiting for its time to come, for the world to change once more and a reappraisal of all that was previously taken for granted; when we, not spoiled for resources, would once again find a virtue and a new aesthetic in making the best out of what we have. Mend and make new.   Nowadays, I navigate my way through our strange new world by bicycle. I finally finished writing “Drunk is a Holiday” when the last of the lyrics came to me in the Summer of 2020 whilst cycling through the Dovecote country, somewhere between Yoker and Whiteinch and approximately 24 years after watching Brideshead Revisited.   “The calm, beguiling   Until you’re smiling   Our little slice of forever* to be whiling”   All of the above is not necessarily to say that the song itself is worth the wait. That is not, of course, for me to say. 24 years in the making is, after all, a fair bit to live up to and perhaps its origins will prove more interesting than its arrival. But it was worth my wait and I’ll go as far as to say that, yes, I am fond of it. If forced to describe the song for publicity purposes, I’d maybe offer something along the lines of “Music Hall as Synth Pop”. Whatever “Drunk is a Holiday” may or may not be, lyrically it is very much in the tradition of “write about what you know”, so if it all sounds a little woozy here and there, well, I’m afraid that’s because so do I.   As a final point, if there are any time-travellers reading this, may I ask a small favour? Should you happen to be passing through 1996 any time soon, could you please pass on a message to my former self, if he’ll listen? Please tell him that future Biff asks that he be of good cheer. Tell him he finally finishes that song that he started. Tell him that he hasn’t given up, that he’s still trying to keep his promise.   *This line is a nod and tip of the hat to Jenny Lindsay’s spoken word show “This Script” from which the line is “borrowed”.  Other significant nods, tips and borrowings (although I prefer the term “references”) include to and from Warren Zevon’s “Carmelita”, a favourite at family sing-songs when I was growing up. Originally posted in December 2020

#4 Yesterday’s Already Light Years Away  (No demo exists.  Approximately 1997)

One from the analogue years, there was no demo recorded of this song at the time, or after.   From around 1996 until 1999, the band rented a rehearsal room in the Maryhill Burgh Halls.  From the studio next door, we inherited an unwieldy electric piano (affectionately christened “The Coffin” by Craig) and on which I stumbled across the song’s tinkly melody.  My bus home from rehearsals crossed Jamaica Bridge, over the Clyde and out to the occasionally sunlit uplands of Glasgow’s Southside.  Gazing out of the top deck window, I used to see blankets tidied away neatly underneath one of the bridge arches and wonder who slept there.  The lyrics began with that thought.   I remember clunkily playing through the song a couple of times in band rehearsals.  When I looked around the room afterwards, all band members’ faces seemed to communicate the same reaction, namely, “Whit are we meant to dae wi that?”.  A fair question.  Some songs are not suited to the rough and tumble of the rehearsal room.  Too much bang and crash.  In this case, a slide rule and calculator may have been more useful.     There’s a bit of an unusual structure to this one and I can hear echoes of my obsession (still current and ongoing) with Prefab Sprout’s “Steve McQueen” album.  As stated above, there was no demo recorded at the time, but the song hung around awkwardly for a while, like a wallflower at a dance, before quietly slipping away into the shadows, lost down the lesser travelled corridors of my mind.  Once in a while I would catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye but when I turned around it was gone again. After 25 years of rattling around in my head and without even a demo to its name, “Yesterday” can stake a fair claim as the unlikeliest character on this unlikeliest of records. A shy one, strange and a little awkward, this song may well be no one’s idea of the belle of the ball and, I would say, it is all the better for that.  It is one of my favourites on the record.  Some songs, and people, are not easy to know but, given the chance, will dance a dance all of their own.

#5 Ride the White Horses  (29/03/10)  

First demoed as an instrumental in a live home recording by Mark and I, dated 29/03/10 (see secret playlist)  In the spirit of Martin Mull’s “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture”, here’s a song about painting, partly inspired by James Guthrie’s “Hard At It” which can be found in the Kelvingrove Art Gallery.  I like to find inspiration in different artforms. One is less likely to be sued for plagiarism.     At the time of writing, this song has been played live once only, at a solo show in Arnhem on 22/10/2010, when it was still shiny new and I must have been keen to try it out.  After the last note, not one person applauded.  Not one.  Not even polite or pitying applause.  Nada.  Nil point.   Ha ha ha. Cue tumbleweed.  Character building.   I daresay I could have taken the hint there and then but I’ve always been a bit stubborn that way.  I am right and the world is wrong. Sooner or later the world will realise the error of its ways. Until then, if an idea is worth believing in, it is worth a world of indifference, worth all of the lean years for all of the meantime (even if it all turns out to be meantime).  So, here’s to another time and place yet to come; to some other night in some other room where some one person hearing the song may feel just glad enough to clap hands.  Then, at long last, from lost into later, the song will have found a home. NB. For further reference material (and dancing about architecture), please see Eduardo Chillada’s “The Comb of the Wind”

#6 What You Came For  (11/08/2018) 

The first of the Later songs.  The initial melody came to me whilst on a jolly through to Edinburgh for the festival, somewhere in between Kilderkin and the Waverley Bar.  As I recall, I was temporarily between drinks and loitering outside a newsagent whilst a friend bought tobacco. Ideas tend to come to me when my guard is down, maybe when drifting in or out of sleep, or sometimes, as in this case, when in a dreamlike state.    A cool summer breeze eased down the Royal Mile, calming my fevered brow.  I must have started singing to myself. Tum-te-tum.  Tourists milling by occasionally glanced at me, the singing jakey; perhaps thinking I was one of the local characters, a little bit random but harmless enough.  “Hey”, I wanted to say, “I’m a tourist here myself”.  There must have been some presence of mind still functioning as I recorded the tune on my phone with the title “Yeahyeahyeahs” (it reminded me a little, at the time, of their song “Turn Into”- I always liked that one).  The tune must have been rattling around in my head for a while after that as further developments of the song can be heard on subsequent phone recordings made, by the sounds of it, on trains, waiting on buses and first thing in the morning after dreaming about an idea for the middle eight- https://on.soundcloud.com/SAaj7 The last recorded sighting was 24/09/18; a live take of a rehearsal by the band but by then the Dark Carnival was rolling into town and everything went supernatural for a while.

#7 Something of the Night   (18/12/18) 

Our Hallowe’en number and another of the Later songs, the only previous recording of this was a live rehearsal dated 18/12/2018 - https://on.soundcloud.com/VNeEW   Clearly influenced by our imminent descent into the underworld, this one could well have ended up on the Dark Carnival album had it been a little less late.  Inspired by B-movies, Bela Lugosi, Vampira, Ed Wood, Nosferatu, “Monster Mash”, “Foul Owl on the Prowl” from “In the Heat of the Night” and, yes folks, the theme tune from “The Professionals”.   I wouldn’t imagine the lyrics require any elaboration, with one possible exception: for anyone unfamiliar with the Scots vernacular of “looking for a lumber”, this phrase is used to describe someone “out on the pull”.  Of course, the versatility/ambivalence of the word may well become all too apparent the morning after the night before, should last night’s “lumber” turn into this morning’s “lumbered with”.  It can be a confusing language, particularly nowadays when nuance has become so terribly unfashionable.  I looked up “lumber” in both Oxford and Cambridge English dictionaries but its use as a singular noun (e.g. “Did ye get a lumber last night?”) receives no mention.  That, of course, may well be a whole other story. This song is, I am proud to say, a thoroughly reprehensible character (although clearly somewhat ridiculous).   Like its fellow travellers, it was, at the time and for one reason or another, considered inappropriate.  Maybe so. Or maybe it is, to paraphrase Lloyd Cole, inappropriate but much more fun.   This will be the one they remember us for. Featuring bonus wolf howl.  

#8 Swirly  (04/03/2009) 

It’s swirly, man.

The first demo is dated 04/03/09 at 1653h, just in time for tea.  Around this time, I was beginning to collaborate with my friend Ally Kerr on his songs, working towards his album “Viva Melodia”. I’d say it was a productive time for both Ally and myself and I was enthused by his maverick, can-do attitude. I remember sauntering home from Ally’s one night after an evening of beer and songs and suddenly a melody began rattling around in my head.  In the spirit of creating a language out of whatever is inspiring us at the time, I began singing, as placeholder lyrics for the melody - “Ally’s good, Ally’s fine, Ally’s hot to let you know”.   As a placeholder title to match the lyrics, I thought “Swirly” suited its woozy, spiralling mood.  Last time I looked, the title was still there. The song felt promising up until the moment of truth in the rehearsal room, when it became sadly apparent that we, the band, couldn’t really play it very well. We tried a few times but it didn’t half plod where it should have swirled. It quickly became another of our songs to be shelved and filed under “Far too much like hard work”.   Some songs are contrary: you have to record them before you learn how to play them, odd as that may sound. At the time of recording, we had never played “Swirly” live. Instead, it was stitched together according to a vague but ambitious wish list sent to long-suffering producer Colin Elliot who was tasked with performing pop alchemy on our humble, home-made fare. Swirly was the first of the lockdown songs to make it out into the world, the first single and original Lost and Later Song #1.   After the initial morale boost, then came the challenge: if this is possible, then what else is?  The sensible thing would have been to say no.  Nice idea but walk away.  To say no is easier, quicker.  To say yes is harder to live up to, will take far longer.  Maybe even a lifetime.

#9 Everything’s Alright Fine    (31/12/2020)  

Second latest of the Later songs, born in a hangover and hummed into my phone, just in time for Hogmanay.  I was stumbling through the no man’s land between last night and the night to come, fighting a rear-guard action against a horde of demons calling me bad names.  Some hangovers can look so big they can pass themselves off as all sky, all horizon and all hereafter.  There is nothing but and nothing beyond this.  Abandon hope all ye who enter here.  It is important then to remember that this is only a temporary psychosis caused by lack of fluids.  Drink water, have some soup, take a nice, hot bath; back to basics, be humble, hit reset, switch off and on again, add in some calculated distractions.  All well and good in theory.  However.   Once upon a hangover, one penitent Sunday and a personal low point to date, I was unable to keep my fluids in place, so to speak.  Another test of character.  When even a humble glass of water is beyond us, we must accept this additional level of abasement and find our new level.  There is, of course, a fine line between humbling and humiliating but never mind.  One hasty rummage in a cupboard later and I emerged triumphant with a bathroom sponge.  Eureka.  I wet the sponge - not soaked, dampened only - and repaired to the sofa.  I began with wetting my lips only - so far, so good. I then built up to occasional discrete, tactical sucks on the sponge, hoping to take on fluids by stealth, under the radar.  I had in place a cunning strategy.  All I needed now was some covering fire, a decoy, a distraction.  I switched the TV on, hoping for a gentle Sunday matinee from a bygone age to gaze at longingly whilst sucking on my sponge.  The screen crackled into life with a brassy fanfare straight out of Hollywood’s golden era.  In a marvel of fortuitous timing, I was just in time to catch the opening credits to the Sunday matineé.  Perhaps my chances were, at last, beginning to take an upward turn.  Then, as I lay on the sofa, sucking cautiously on my sponge and still lamenting my terrible thirst, the screen announced the afternoon feature as- “Humphrey Bogart stars in…. “SAHARA!” You’ve got to laugh.  Humour is our short circuit, cutting off the path to insanity.  Or maybe, in the language of the movies, it heads us off at the pass. That hangover was from another time, a lion of its kind, whereas the hangover of 31/12/20 was a pussycat in comparison.  Damage was sustainable; fluids acceptable; soup, a dawning possibility.  A few minor demons were off on a toot but the mopping up operation was well underway. I would gather them all up like naughty numbskulls and put them back in the jar, until the next time the lid pops off. So, taking deep breaths, I repeated like a mantra – “Everything’s alright, everything’s alright..”.   Tell it ‘til it’s true.   “Everything’s alright”.   “Everything’s alright what?”, came the answer, one of the more stubborn demons.   “Everything’s alright fine”.   “Why two words when one would do?” said the demon. “You protest too much”.   The above processing of information and damage management often takes a musical form.  It is good to take notes throughout.  You never know what you might miss.  Humphrey Bogart won’t always be there to help you through your hangovers and some courses you’ll have to plot alone, making your own entertainment along the way.  Meantime, and remember, this may well all turn out to be meantime, everything’s alright fine.

#10 Intermission –   (Voice recording of initial idea recorded on 10/11/20) 

Transmissions from Planet Zoom- a melancholy android plays remembered sounds from Planet Earth; an ice cream van, a seaside organ, elevator muzak. Refreshments are available in the foyer.  

Welcome back folks.

#11 A Chemical Dream  (20/01/04 - 01/09/08) 

 Another of the lost souls, “A Chemical Dream” dates from around mid-late noughties and, woozy and anaesthetised as it may be, I imagine it must still have been deemed far too jolly for the last Starlets album.  Then, come the revolution and post Year-Zero, songs about chemicals would, of course, have been cancelled due to high levels of bourgeois decadence.   I picture “A Chemical Dream” as the sound of Sunday morning coming down; dawn is breaking and night’s spell of enchantment is slowly lifting, but maybe the imminent crash will be sustainable, a new beginning.   Song as dream sequence, through the highs and lows of hedonism, thematically we are, of course, in familiar territory here.  Never mind.  We must work with what we have.  Even when it feels like nothing.

#12 What Boys Do  (10/7/16) “And you know all our boys Are really girls at heart” -The Imposter, Elvis Costello

“What Boys Do” started life in 2016 with the working title of “The Replacements” (see link), as the initial idea reminded me a little of the brilliant band of that name (as an irrelevant aside here, I would like to boast that one of the treasures in my collection is a cigarette packet signed by Paul Westerberg).  I don’t remember too much about writing this but there are many things in my life that I don’t remember too much about and perhaps this is for the best.  If called upon to explain myself as regards the title, I would draw attention to the lyric - “All the big talk and then we’re through But that’s just what boys do” As a boy of a certain vintage, I grew up in an era when society’s expectation for its menfolk was to be strong, capable, uncomplaining, tough, undemonstrative, to never show weakness.  That’s a fair bit to live up to.  Hence the big talk.  And all that goes with it. The song itself sounded, once again, so unlike anything else we were doing at the time that I didn’t know where to put it (we are an anomaly even to ourselves) and so off it slipped, into obscurity, last seen in 2016.  A six-year sentence to the Lost and Later files is, of course, relatively lenient when compared with some of the other songs (see “Drunk is a Holiday”).  Then came the days of the new pestilence and lockdown during which, with nothing better to do, and having exhausted all other far more pleasant possibilities, I thought, oh dear, I might as well work.   In the early demos there were concerns that the heavy guitars could sound a bit ploddy and pub rock so we decided a healthy dollop of glam was required and during the recording of the song, I often asked myself -   “What would the New York Dolls do?” *. So, I added some “oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ohs" and bought myself a feather boa.  I wore the feather boa whilst recording the vocal and that helped to get me in the mood.  Still, I had my doubts and, come the mixing, I expressed concern over my vocal performance in an email to our producer Colin Elliot, signing off with -   “My only worry is that it may not be camp enough”.   Colin was happy to reassure me on that point and replied-   “Don’t worry, it’s always camp enough” * “What would the New York Dolls do?”   I would strongly recommend we ask ourselves this question whenever facing difficult circumstances, in whatever walk of life and certainly never less than once a day... although probably not whilst driving or operating heavy machinery.

#13 Starlight International    16/10/18   @ 7.39 am 

This song arrived, more or less fully formed, in a dream.  On waking, rather than rolling over, perchance to dream once more, I had the wherewithal to grab my guitar and record it into my phone. There’s something about the state between sleep and waking that makes for fertile ground for the imagination. The mind is no longer on its best behaviour. Notions such as sensible, adult behaviour become a laughing stock.  Ha ha ha ha.  Fuck that.  Chaos creeps in, many-fingered and dancing to the beat of a different drum. We were in the middle of our Dark Carnival incarnation at the time and I found myself singing “Baby you’re a supernatural” at the chorus so this became the initial working title.  Later on, I thought the word “international” scanned a bit better and could also make for our signature tune.  Then “Starlight International” suggested itself.  It all sounded rather glam and, inspired by Bowie’s starman/spaceboy fantasies, I thought “Of course! A space ballad”. The band as cosmonauts, into the Great Unknown, to infirmity and beyond.  If I wasn’t afraid of heights, I wouldn’t mind signing up for the space game.  As long as I didn’t have to wake up too early and as long as I was home in time for tea or at least, last orders.

#14 Boom Boom Cannonball  (27/9/17) 

The riff idea came to me at a Slim Cessna’s Auto Club gig.  In days gone by I would have forgotten it with the next passing fancy but thankfully nowadays there are voice recorders on phones to help people like me along.  In the “boom idea” recording you can hear me singing the riff over the noisy chaos of the live gig in the background (foreground as background, sadly, is often the way at live gigs).  As noted previously, every recipe needs a healthy dash of chaos, this time provided by the noise and heat and sweat of a small club gig.  The band are bangin and I’m several beers in. Charge on.

It was never going to be pretty.  It demanded much huffing and puffing and a-panting and a-grunting, like Leonard Cohen sings the Army of Lovers or a surprise Eurovision entry by The Hormone Monster.  Cheesy, sleazy eurotrash with a honking, stonking dose of the horn.  Yes, yes, yes...it may all be considered thoroughly inappropriate, but I have no concerns.  In order to be cancelled, one has to be scheduled in the first place.

#15 The Strangest Thing   (1/3/21)

Latest of the later songs and yet another to come in a dream.  I seem to spend half my life in a dream, the other half in denial.  In this dream I found myself running through the dimly lit labyrinth of a post-apocalyptic Venice whilst battling some strangely attractive zombies.  I didn’t know whether I wanted to fight the Zombies or....well, you get the idea.  It was all a bit Lara Croft meets Sigmund Freud.  The end of the dream felt like completing a level. I outran the zombies only to find myself running down a dark alleyway into a dead end, at the end of which was a drinking fountain.  As I approached the fountain, I saw there was a secret button in the middle of the fountainhead. Ooh.  I pressed a secret button and the fountain began to sink into the ground whilst playing the doorbell melody you hear at the beginning of the song.  That was the dream.  Pure spooky man.  My dreams are rarely light-hearted.  Never mind.  I try to see them as free entertainment, the brain’s bonus section.     Lockdown recording felt like a clean slate, like we could sound like anything we wanted.  It liberated us from the bang and crash of the rehearsal room (fond as I am of that).  I suspect “The Strangest Thing” would never have blossomed in that environment.  I should be grateful it wasn’t written 25 years ago. If you are in a hurry, I would say this is not the song for you.  If you are not in a hurry....may I suggest you make yourself comfortable, maybe with a glass of something lovely.  Let us take time out from the world.  The chaos will still be there tomorrow.  Just not the way we left it.

#16 There’s Barely Enough Time to Breathe  (no demo exists)

Another one from the analogue years, approximately 1997-8, around the same time as “Yesterday’s Already Light Years Away” and similarly born out of my obsession (current and ongoing) with Prefab Sprout’s “Steve McQueen” album.  This was another one which didn’t suit the rough and tumble of the rehearsal room.  Quite simply, we didn’t have a clue what to do with the song and so we stood around looking at it for a while, somewhat vacantly, like dogs watching a card trick.  So, no demo for this one.  You can’t record what you can’t play, or so we thought until making this album.  Never let a lack of technical ability get in the way of a musical idea.  Music is too important to be left to musicians.  That’s what I always say. Lyrically, this one was in part inspired by the line “Another lifetime is the least you’ll need” from Jonathan Coe’s “The House of Sleep”.  I loved the book and the character Sarah, a narcoleptic who can’t tell the difference between her dreams and her waking state and so talks to people about her dreams as though they were widely known world events.  How marvellous. I used to think I might be narcoleptic until it dawned on me that I just find much of life terribly dull.  As a younger man, I was sacked from jobs for falling asleep.  Fortunately, I wasn’t a bus driver.  Or anything important, really. I managed to blag a place at university purely as a way of avoiding work, only to then regularly fall asleep during lectures.  I remember falling asleep during a History lecture (the last words I remember hearing were something about “demography in the 18th century”) only to wake up some time later, startled to find I was surrounded by an entirely new group of students, all eagerly taking notes on a talk about tectonic plates and volcanic rock formations.  I was too embarrassed to get up and leave so I sat as inconspicuously as a recently snoring man in a room full of bright-eyed young Geology students could until I gradually found myself being drawn in by the subject, fascinated.  Wow.  What tumult and drama we walk above.  It’s amazing we can make it to the shops in one piece.  I failed History that year but I could probably tell you a thing or two about Mount Vesuvius.   So, anyway, getting back to the song, lyrically, I can hear the struggle to reconcile my world view with what then seemed to me the outrage upon my personal liberty that was working for a living.  Work, the foulest of all four-letter words and the enemy of sleep.  I have never been a morning person and wake up begrudgingly.  I then believe in due process as observed in the form of at least one hour of coffee and denial.  After an hour, I may then deign to talk to you, but it will probably be about the dream I just had.  I carried this song around in my head for 25 years.  I am beyond happy to see it finally set it free.  Thank you, dear band, thank you Colin Elliot. The more dreams I can make come true, the less there are to haunt me.

#17 Freediving   (1/3/12)

Another late developer, more lost than later, “Freediving” took 10 years to record.   Mark and I occasionally get together to work on the guitar arrangements, an activity which has come to be known as “The Biscuit Sessions” (these would be mid-week affairs, involving nothing stronger than ginger snaps and PG Tips).  The earliest documented recording of this was 1/3/12 at 1906h, a rough idea we must have bashed out in between biscuits.  A further demo from 22/12/12 (0020h) shows a more realised structure although it was still instrumental at the time (I didn’t yet know what I was writing about). The song felt subtle and elusive, never quite settling and I think back then, we made the mistake of trying to rush it, control it, rather than allow it to breathe and gradually reveal itself.  If you love something, set it free.  If it’s meant to be, it will come back to you.  And it did, around nine years later in the long, echoing days of lockdown when time all of a sudden felt like a surplus (a mirage, I know) and little pockets of hitherto unimaginable breathing space emerged, a coming up for air in the midst of all the horror.   The music itself made me think of water.  It felt fluid, tidal.  I thought of the intimacy of underwater where the above world becomes muffled and hushed and how, perhaps in that escape lay the appeal of freediving, not an activity I had given much thought to until watching the film “The Big Blue”. I remembered the scene from the film when the two central characters, friends and rivals for the crown of World Freediving Champion, become bored at a glitzy party and, aching to escape the inane cocktail chatter, decide to jump in their host’s swimming pool and hang out down at the bottom of the deep end.  I also thought of Kino the pearl diver from Steinbeck’s “The Pearl”, Kino bursting triumphantly from the depths as cupped and glistening in his hands was the oyster in which lay the pearl of the world.  Finally, I thought that whatever is or isn’t down there, pearls, tranquility or nothing at all, in the dive alone may be found a freedom which, if we never get our feet wet, we will only ever guess at.

#18 Those First Impressions (approximately 2007)

For Billy Mackenzie

#19 The Night Will Take You  (original demo dated 9/11/10) 

It’s the last song of the night folks.  If you don’t ask that beautiful stranger to dance now, the moment will be gone forever. We impersonate that which we admire, try it on for size in the hope that someday the outfit may suit us.  Back in Starlets days, we used to cover “Science Fiction/Double Feature” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I still think it’s the most romantic song I’ve ever heard and one of the few songs that, whatever I’m doing, should I hear it playing, I have to stop and listen to it (I am not a man to be left in charge of a group of toddlers, or a combine harvester).   Travelling for many years under the nom de guerre “Glitterball”, in another world, or perhaps in yet another dream I once had, "The Night Will Take You" would soundtrack the closing credits of a John Hughes movie.  Preferably one with Molly Ringwald. Good triumphs over evil, love over death, and all those eternal human legends which settle our score with reality.   Some nights, when the lights are low and the music's right, I start believing all over again. So, if you’re dancing, I’m asking.  Always will be.

#20 Lost and Later Theme   (5/3/19) 

A street musician duets with a synthesiser.  Written on accordion, this early recording is more bum notes than melody but you can hear the tune gradually emerging - https://on.soundcloud.com/BrFXc It was partly influenced by a barrel organ street musician I once heard - (see “Rue Daguerre, Montparnasse” on the secret playlist).  I loved the song but never found out its name. It sounds like some old, jolly, French drinking song.  If anyone recognises it, please do let me know, thank you. Anyway, welcome to the end of the pier. Don’t jump off just yet.  You might miss something.  The view is lovely and on a clear day you can see, if not quite forever, at least as far as next Tuesday. To quote many a firm but fair barkeep at closing time, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.  Actually, no, that’s not true. You can stay here.  You can live here.  I do.

[synthctic]

I rise.  what a wonderful day to love Nick Valentine

[threeletterslife]

01 | Redefining Destiny

→ next chapter

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole. 

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: none??? (ok fine JK thinks ‘shit’ once but that doesn’t really count)

→ wordcount: 3.4k

Sweat slowly trickles down the back of Jungkook's neck as he stands behind the fiery heat of the burger grill. He's been gripping the metal spatula for so long that there's an angry red dented mark in his right hand. The greasy smell of oil from the french fries has penetrated through his nose for hours now; at this point, he has no other choice but to breathe sparingly through his mouth. God, he hates working overtime.

But he desperately wants to provide for you financially, and working overtime at his local burger joint was just one small step closer to financial stability when you both graduate. It's the least he can do for you.

Jungkook adjusts his red hat, which is part of his work uniform and checks the clock hanging on the wall. Ten minutes and he's out of here. He can definitely take this hot, stuffy kitchen for ten more minutes. He's been through a lot worse in his life; in comparison, this was nothing.

Ten minutes pass painstakingly slowly, but once the clock strikes 10 p.m., Jungkook pushes the spatula into his co-worker's hands and dashes out of the kitchen, grabbing his casual clothes from his corner at the back and rushing into the restroom to change. He hates the greasy, fast-food smell that clings onto his work clothes even more than you do.

And today's supposed to be a special day. Normally after a late shift, Jungkook likes to go home and lay in bed with you as you stroke his soft hair until he falls asleep. But today is definitely a special day.

When Jungkook comes out of the bathroom wearing his normal black jeans and an oversized hoodie, he sees his long-time friend Yoongi waving at him in a corner seat of the parlor. Jungkook smiles, rushing over to slide into the seat across from his friend.

"Hey," Yoongi says. "Just finished your shift?"

"Yeah," Jungkook answers.

"How was it?"

"It was okay," Jungkook lies. "It's bearable. And it's extra money."

"It's been a while since we got to meet up like this, huh?" Yoongi sighs. "How are you holding up?"

"Since..." Jungkook whispers.

Yoongi nods. "It's been nearly two years, Jungkook, but I know how much you miss them... or him."

Jungkook nods solemnly. Yoongi's right. It has been nearly two years since the Crescents collapsed and everyone but Jungkook was murdered on the spot. He's been having nightmares about that night ever since it had happened. Nightmares about his best friend... Taehyung... He shudders just thinking about it.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Yoongi says. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for it."

"It's really fine," Jungkook says, shaking his head. "It's not a big deal... I just miss Tae once in a while. It doesn't always plague my thoughts," he lies. "Besides, I have Y/N, you know?"

Yoongi nods, smiling. "You lost a loved one so the universe brought you another."

But Jungkook doesn't think anyone could become the Taehyung of his life—not even you, though he loves you more than mere words can describe.

"Oh, right. I forgot to tell you, Jungkook," Yoongi says, leaning forward in his seat and grinning. He's trying to lighten up the mood; Jungkook can tell. "My wife's pregnant!"

"Really?" Jungkook gasps, his eyes turning wide as he stares at his proud-looking friend. Well, this was news that he hadn't expected at all. "Wow, congratulations!" He really means it.

"I dunno about congratulations, but I am pretty glad I'm finally going to be a father," Yoongi hums. "Except that child is hoarding my wife's attention. And I'm kinda nervous," he sighs. "A lot of pressure to be a perfect example now..."

Jungkook nods. "I can imagine. But you'll be a great father."

His friend smiles. "Thanks. That means a lot. Anyways, how's school been going?" Yoongi asks, resting his head on his propped up hand. "I know you were kinda worried because of the age gap and everything..."

Yoongi's right. It wasn't easy to start up school again after neglecting to go to college in his early adult years. He would be at least three years older (or more) than everyone else in his classes... and he hadn't touched a textbook or actively listened to a lecture since senior year of high school. He was worried that he would be severely behind all the bright and chipper students who hadn't taken several gap years. And he was behind at first. But his determination to be somehow involved in law was just so much greater than the adversities that academics hurled at him, that he fought through. Of course, you'd helped him as well. So, as of now, school was going—

"Great, actually," Jungkook answers. "It's because I'm doing what I'm interested in."

"Good," Yoongi answers. "My wife sends you her best of luck. She said being a paralegal will definitely suit you."

Jungkook smiles. "Tell her I said thanks. That was sweet of her."

"You know my wife," Yoongi snorts. "Always trying to do the right thing. Oh yeah," he pauses, "how's the love of your life?"

"She puts up with me," Jungkook chuckles. "She's been great. We've been talking about her moving in for a while and it finally happened a few weeks ago."

"That's amazing, Jungkook," Yoongi says, smiling. "You really love her. I can tell."

Jungkook laughs, face heating up just thinking about you. "You know what's funny? I hated you for the longest time—no offense—because you left us, you know, for your wife. But now I know what it feels like to be crazy in love."

Yoongi snorts. "Yeah. Wait until she's pregnant with your kid, though."

"I still think I would love her as much as I do now," Jungkook says. "I don't think our love can ever fade."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Oh, to be young and in love!" he declares.

Jungkook makes a face that makes Yoongi laugh even harder. "You're only a year older," Jungkook protests. "And if you were in school, we'd be in the same year!"

"Sure, sure," Yoongi says.

Jungkook's about to say something snarky to get back at Yoongi when he hears the familiar tune of your favorite song playing on his phone. Last Valentine's Day, you'd gone out of your way to customize Jungkook's ringtone when you call him. It was some Christian song that you belted out every Sunday at the top of your lungs—a song that Jungkook knew every word to after listening to it so many times. "Hold up, my girlfriend's calling," Jungkook says, fishing out his phone and clearing his throat to answer.

Yoongi leans back, nodding to himself as he watches his younger friend get excited over a call from his girlfriend. Jungkook presses his phone against his ear, lips already pulling up into a smile just at the thought of talking to you.

"Hey, baby!" you chirp the moment Jungkook picks up. "Can we please have ramen for dinner? I'm craving it so hard for some reason! And it's not like we can really afford anything else..."

"Of course, baby," Jungkook says, unbelievably happy just hearing your voice. "Do you want me to make it when I get home?"

"Yes, please!" you exclaim in your bright, golden voice. "We have a nasty quiz in ethics tomorrow, remember? I have no idea how you're hanging out with Yoongi knowing that, but whatever. I've been FaceTiming like six of my friends to cram for it... But also at this point, I'm kinda getting distracted—frick, I'm going off into tangents again. Wait, okay, sorry, Kook, I have to go."

"Don't worry about it, babe," Jungkook says. "Study well, okay?"

"Okay! Bye, Kook. Have fun with your friend!"

Jungkook can tell you're smiling just from your voice. "Bye, Y/N!" He ends the call, putting down his phone and looking a bit dazed.

Yoongi laughs at him. "God, Jungkook, you really love her. It's been like what, a year? And you're already even living with each other."

Jungkook scrunches his forehead. "You ran away from the only family you ever knew to be with a girl you've reunited with for less than a year," he retorts.

Yoongi chuckles. "Touché. Maybe we're both deranged love-seeking lunatics."

Jungkook laughs. "Maybe..." he muses. "Or maybe we've found our true soulmates and we're not stupid enough to let them go."

"Ha, good one," Yoongi laughs. "If I told my wife that we were soulmates, she'd tell me to open my eyes and wake up."

"Really? But she loves you and you love her," Jungkook says.

"So?" Yoongi asks. "You loved my wife too, once. So did..." he hesitates. "So did Seokjin and Taehyung... Just because we love each other doesn't make us soulmates."

"I loved your wife a long time ago. That shouldn't even count. And that was before I knew my soulmate existed," Jungkook huffs. "I guess maybe Y/N and I are lucky."

Yoongi smiles. "Extremely fortunate," he says. "True love like that doesn't happen often in this cruel universe." He folds his hands in front of him like a wise man, leaning in as if he were going to tell Jungkook a secret. Naturally, Jungkook leans in to listen to what the wiser man has to say. "You deserve it, Jungkook," Yoongi tells him. "You deserve to have someone like Y/N to give you purpose to live. To put purpose in your life. You deserve a lot, and from what I could tell, Y/N is the 'a lot' that you deserve."

Jungkook can't stop the wide grin stretching his lips. It's rare that Yoongi has such heartfelt words to say so openly in public. He must be out of his mind—or insanely excited about becoming a father.

"Thanks, Yoongi," Jungkook says.

Jungkook knows that Yoongi's always been a practical man who doesn't believe in soulmates or destiny or any of that cutesy, Disney princess, Hollywood shit. And for months, Yoongi was Jungkook's makeshift role model—someone to take the place of Kim Taehyung, who was dead now... But Jungkook knew he and Yoongi were too different when he met you. You were something else. Something so completely different that when he's with you, he feels like he's taken to the moon. He has to disagree with Yoongi on this one. Destiny exists.

Because destiny, and what was written in the stars of the vast universe, is what brought you and him together to fall in love.

You immediately sit up in bed when you hear an ear-piercing scream, quickly reaching across to switch on the bedside lamp and turning to your boyfriend. He's kicking the covers and whimpering, sweat running profusely down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut and frowns at the figures in his nightmares. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Kook?" you whisper, yawning and trying to blink away your drowsiness. "Hey, you were screaming again," you say, shaking him softly.

Jungkook nearly hits your head with his when he jerks awake. And the moment you see the fear in his wet but alert eyes, your drowsiness vanishes. "Baby, you're crying," you say, pulling him into your arms and hugging him.

He relaxes a bit in your embrace for a split second before tugging back and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he groans nearly breathlessly as he massages his head with his hand. You try to wipe his tears away with the sleeve of your nightshirt. "It's so early in the morning... And we have a quiz today. You need to sleep."

You shake your head, ruffling Jungkook's hair. "Sleep is the least of my worries, Kook. Tell me, it's about your friends again, isn't it?"

Jungkook stays silent, still trembling slightly from the leftover shadows of his nightmare.

"C'mon... I wanna help, baby," you say, reaching out to hold Jungkook's hand. He's sweaty and his skin feels hot against yours but you don't mind. "You can tell me. It'll make you feel better, I promise."

"It was horrible," Jungkook finally whispers. "And you were right. It was about the Crescents again..." he hesitates and you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts and continue. "I-I watched T-Taehyung be b-brutally tortured. A-And I... I couldn't do anything about it b-because I was in invisible restraints." He lets out a gigantic sigh, shivering from the last remains of the nightmare in his mind. "Everyone else was already dead and bled out," he quickly says, spitting the words out so fast he doesn't have time to stutter. "I want to spare you the details." He's shaking as he tells you this, eyes fogged up and lips set in a thin line.

"Oh, Kook..." you breathe. You reach out to hug him. "Hey... do you want me to get you an ice pack and a glass of water?" you ask, rubbing slow circles on his back. "We can talk about it in-depth when you're feeling better."

"No," Jungkook murmurs softly in your ear. "I swear, I'm fine, Y/N. You don't have to do anything. It was just a dream..."

"It was a nightmare," you correct him, pulling back from the hug. "And you keep having them. What can I do to help?"

"You're helping right now," Jungkook says. He gives you a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I keep waking you up at ungodly hours of the night."

"You shouldn't be sorry," you reply. "You've been through a lot, Kook. It would only make sense for you to have bad flashbacks about it... Hey, if you don't want to go back to sleep, I'll stay up with you."

Jungkook shakes his head. "No way. You need your sleep."

"You do too, silly," you say. "How about we both go to bed?"

Jungkook smiling, slipping back into the covers and dragging you under with him so that you're using his pillow instead of yours. "Can you stay by my side until I fall asleep again?" he whispers hopefully.

"Of course," you say, "you're really warm, anyways." You snuggle against your boyfriend, closing your eyes immediately to relish in the darkness. "Goodnight," you whisper. "I'll pray for you so that the nightmares won't bother you again this night."

"What would I do without you, Y/N?" Jungkook sighs as he closes his eyes too, wrapping an arm around you.

"Everything," you murmur. "You're... a strong man... Kook..." you trail off. Jungkook waits for you to continue, but it seems like sleep has overtaken you before you could say any more.

Jungkook smiles. When he's in your arms, he can finally have a peaceful slumber away from the nightmares and horrible memories. He dozes off the sleep again and this time, he isn't plagued by the fatal cries of his friends' last words.

When the 2 p.m. alarm rings, Jungkook's the first one up, hopping out of bed and checking to see if you are awake. You obviously aren’t, so he decides he's going to let you sleep for a little bit longer while he makes breakfast—er, lunch.

It's Friday, which means you and Jungkook only have one class today—ethics. Jungkook has a habit of studying for his classes little by little and every day but you tend to cram last-minute. You were up until 3 a.m. last night studying and you'd also woken up at around 4 to comfort Jungkook. Feeling a little guilty, Jungkook pads into the kitchen with heavy, drowsy feet and lets you get the extra sleep you deserve.

The smell of bacon sizzling on the pan permeates through the small apartment's air, reaching the bedroom to wake you up. Soon, you're making your way into the kitchen, stretching your arms as you yawn.

"Hey, baby," Jungkook greets you, turning around from the stove to give you a warm smile. "Sorry about last night... er, early morning."

You yawn again, waving a dismissive hand as you open the fridge to take out some eggs and apples. "It's nothing, Kook. Can you scramble these eggs? I'll cut the apples."

Jungkook nods, taking the eggs from you and cracking them open expertly against the fry-pan before letting the contents fall out. He takes the cooked bacon from the pan before it burns, looking around to find some plates to set them on.

"Here you go," you tell him, handing him just what he needed.

Per usual, it's like the two of you have telepathic communication.

Once the bacon is hot and ready on the plates, the eggs are scrambled into a golden yellow and the apples are freshly washed and cut, you and Jungkook sit down at your small table and eat. Jungkook's just about to finish up his eggs when you sigh. Jungkook looks up at you, and he sees that you have abandoned your silverware, twisting around your gold purity ring—it's a small habit you picked up when you're nervous.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?"

"No, nothing's wrong, Kook," you tell him. "I'm just worried about you. You keep having nightmares, baby, and I just think it might be detrimental to your mental health...”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he lies, shaking his head in denial. “I’m fine. I promise, Y/N.”

You know he’s lying, but you don’t say it out loud. “In that case, I have a verse from the Bible for you,” you say, pausing to close your eyes. “Maybe repeating this in your head can somehow help you...” Your brows furrow as you concentrate to pull up the scripture from memory. "Be strong and courageous,” you begin, “do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

"Joshua 1:9," Jungkook finishes for you. "I know, Y/N. I know."

He doesn't really, though. Jungkook respects your closeness to God; he respects your religion and your beliefs, but he, a murderer, a major sinner, cannot possibly receive salvation. He can't take back the lives he's ruined, the people he's tortured and turned insane, the victims he'd killed slowly, taking his sweet, sweet time... You understand his struggles, so you don't push the subject of religion on him. But it had been a hard move for you to choose to date Jungkook. To choose to move in with him. To choose to sleep on the same bed and maintain your purity. Jungkook understands. And this mutual understanding—even though none of it was spoken verbally—is what makes the two of you so special.

You connect on a level that transcends speech and language.

"You don't deserve being haunted by the things you did when you were younger," you say. "Former mafia or not, you're a good man, now, Jungkook." You grab his hand from across the hand, encompassing it with your own. "That's what matters."

He smiles, nodding. "Thank you..."

"Of course," you say. "Hey, after class, wanna eat out for dinner? You know, to celebrate another quiz."

"Ah..." Jungkook sighs. "I can't, baby. I have to work overtime today."

"What?" you pout as a frown places itself on your lips. "You worked overtime yesterday. And you didn't get a good night's sleep today..."

"Well, we need all the money we can get," Jungkook says. "I'll be fine. Maybe you can get dinner with your friends? I'll meet you outside my workplace at 10?"

You sigh. "Alright, Kook, but you have to promise you'll sleep in tomorrow."

"I promise," Jungkook grins. "Hey, I'll clean up so you can cram a bit more for the quiz."

You laugh, shaking your head as you gather up your utensils and your plate. "No way, Kook. You know, I don't have to try as hard anymore. I'm not going to intern abroad."

"Really?" Jungkook asks, frowning. "But that's such a great opportunity, Y/N! You can't just miss out on it..."

"Well, going abroad would mean we'd be long-distance... And what if I never come back?" you say. "I'm not gonna risk that. I'm not going. I'll have to explain that to my parents... somehow."

"You don't have to give up on your future for me..."

You laugh out loud. "I think God meant for me to have a future with you, Kook."

Jungkook hums. "In that case, I can't really argue against what He planned for you, can I?"

"No," you giggle, shaking your head. "You can't."

Jungkook smiles; God or not, you and he were meant to be, and he'd prove time and again that he is worth your love.

After the ethics quiz that had gone fairly well, you and Jungkook part ways after he kisses your cheek goodbye. Usually, Jungkook walks straight to the burger parlor, but, today, he takes a little detour to the flower shop.

He's been buying you one sunflower every week since the two of you began dating. He doesn't really know how that tradition started, but it never really stopped because the two of you enjoyed it so much. But today, he wants to get you something special.

Jungkook feels a little guilty, after all, that you'd given up your internship abroad to be with him and that you always had to wake up in the middle of the night or at early dawn to comfort him through his nightmares. It isn’t much, but sunflowers give you happiness.

He makes his special purchase and walks to the burger parlor where the smell of grease and oil isn't as bad today—his mind is preoccupied with your reaction when he gives you your present.

You're already waiting for him outside the burger parlor when Jungkook comes out, a bit sweaty with the smell of burgers still lingering on his skin.

"Hey, babe!" you say brightly, hugging him and immediately taking his hand. "How was work? I went to get some street food with friends. It was so good! I have to take you there some time—goodness, are those—" Your eyes turn huge as you see the packet that your boyfriend is holding.

"Sunflower seeds," your boyfriend smiles. "I know I usually get you sunflowers... but I figured it would mean more if we could plant them and grow them ourselves."

You gasp, putting a hand to your heart. "That's so thoughtful, Kook. I don't even know what to say."

Jungkook shrugs shyly, face blushing. "It was nothing, babe... But hey, did you walk here alone? That's kind of dangerous..."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, my friend dropped me off here. I didn't even wait that long for you. You don't have to worry."

"Sorry," Jungkook says, squeezing your entertained hands. "I'm just... paranoid, I guess."

He's referring to Jimin and you know it. "Hey... I'm fine," you say. "It doesn't hurt to worry or be cautious, you know. Wanna start walking home?"

Jungkook nods as the two you begin to walk down the familiar streets, the bright moonlight illuminating what was otherwise dark. A few minutes pass before you speak again.

"It's a full moon, tonight," you say, looking up at the sky.

"I really like full moons," Jungkook hums.

You turn your head to look at him in shock. "Really? I always thought crazy things happen on the night of a full moon. Like men turn into werewolves and witches brew their potions and warlocks cast their spells?"

Jungkook laughs as he looks at you fondly through his half-opened eyes. "Maybe," he giggles. "But... I don't know... it's just that it's a better, more completed version of a crescent moon. I feel like it guides me in the right direction."

"I thought I did that, not the full moon!" 

Jungkook smiles. "You're better than the moon," he says, pointing at the stars twinkling in the night sky. "You're the stars, Y/N. You're the sun. You're my sunflower!" he exclaims confidently.

You smile, a faint, rosy blush tinting your cheeks. "I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"You'd be abroad," Jungkook says. "Studying a foreign language and becoming successful."

You shake your head. "Not at all. I'd be unhappy. I'd feel stuck. You know I hate what I'm learning..." you shrug. "Without you, I wouldn't have anyone to lean on."

Jungkook smiles. "Me too."

You smile, about to say something sweet right back to your boyfriend, but you halt walking instead. Jungkook stops with you, looking around to see if anything is wrong.

"Hey," he says. "You good?"

"Was that always there?" you say, tilting your head and looking curiously to the right. "I've never seen it before."

Jungkook looks to where you're looking and smiles curiously. It's a little shop, the windows displaying glowing potions and little sparkling trinkets. "A magic gag shop?" he asks. "Maybe it's new."

"Gosh, it's adorable!" you gasp, running toward the windows to peer inside. "Look, baby! There's a cute little flying teacup set! I can barely see the string that's holding it up!"

Jungkook catches up to you, looking in to see exactly what you are talking about. "It seems so professional," he says in awe. "Do you think the owner works in the film industry or something? Some of these look so real. Look at that!" He points at a crystal ball in the middle of the shop, displaying vibrant images of sunflower patches. "That's insane!"

"It's like it was made for us," you laugh. "Let's check it out!"

"Woah, uh," Jungkook hesitates, "it's late, Y/N. The shop's probably closed."

"The lights are on," you pout. "C'mon, I wanna talk to the owner! I wonder what they're using to get such vivid photos on that thing!"

With that, you tug your boyfriend into the little magic shop with you. One step in, it's like you've entered a new universe.

—next chapter

—masterpost

[moprocrastinates]

the story is about to begin, and every day will be a new piece of the plot

||| If you would like to comment, thank you, but click HERE instead to sign a petition to give Breonna Taylor the justice she deserves. |||

Chapter Rating: T

Disclaimer: Title comes from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society by Mary Ann Shaffer/Annie Burrows. 

Summary: Her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan. Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads.

(Read on AO3!)

Early morning sunlight streams in through the slots the blinds don’t quite cover, and Jude Duarte groans quietly as she yanks the warm covers over her head.

Then the birds begin to chirp, and look— Jude’s all for birds, okay? (Even if they are a little terrifying at times.) She’d just prefer them if they didn’t feel the need to wake her up on a wonderful, sleepy Sunday before 10am.

Beneath the cover of her blankets, Jude scrunches her eyes shut a little more. The song the birds sing seems to grow louder and louder with every passing moment, and with a desperation only other night owls could understand, she jerks her pillow out from under her head to cover her ears, leaving bare skin touched by the cold air of her bedroom. Instinctively, she reaches out behind her, hands grabby and a little needy, mindlessly searching for her personal furnace— also known as her boyfriend Cardan. But her hands grasp thin air, and it’s then that Jude opens her eyes.

She sits up slowly, hair in a jumbled knot (it had been a messy bun originally, but Jude’s always been a rough sleeper) on top of her head and her covers strewn and tangled up in her bare feet. “Cardan?”

There is no answer, at least, not a vocal one, but as she opens her mouth to call out again, a loud crash comes from just outside the room, followed immediately by a loud curse that causes Jude to smile softly and bite her lip.

Jude Duarte knows Cardan Greenbriar perhaps better than anyone, and, because of this, she also knows that today of all days, she shouldn’t interrupt him. Not when he’s got a plan.

And for their anniversaries, he’s always got a plan. She’s tried fighting him on it, but it’s the one battle she will always cede to him willingly—how much he desperately wants to show his love for her.

She already knows. But because she loves him, she lets him have free reign over their anniversaries.

It’s her way of letting him know she loves him back.

So she shuffles out of bed, padding quietly into their bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she daintily smears toothpaste on bristles, she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

She doesn’t look young enough to be the type of woman who has spent five years being with the man she loves, but alas, here she is.

Here she is, and so in love.

Another loud crash brings her out of her reverie, and with her morning ritual done, Jude steps out of their room, and nearly laughs at the sight of her beautiful, curly-haired tree of a boyfriend standing nervously in front of the oven, looking at it like it might explode.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to attack you,” She says, grinning shyly at him when he whips around to look at her. “You’re the one out of the two of us who doesn’t burn food in there, so hopefully it still likes you.”

Cardan rolls his eyes in a way that Jude instinctively interprets as loving before he steps towards her, hands immediately finding purchase on her hips. He leans down, and she meets him halfway, lips touching in perhaps one of the gentlest morning kisses she’s ever had. (Most of the morning kisses she’s had in her lifetime have been with Cardan, so it’s not really like she has anything else to compare to.)

She wraps her arms around his neck, fully intending on making this kiss turn into something deeper when he recognizes her intent and laughs against her lips. “Happy anniversary, Jude.”

“Happy anniversary,” she says softly, and when she pulls back to look him in the eyes, she sees the same adoration in his that she knows is reflected in hers. “Five years, huh?”

Cardan chuckles, turning back to the stove and flipping the dials. “Yeah. Still quite can’t believe it.”

Jude snorts. “You’re telling me, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships Greenbriar.”

“You’re a menace.” Cardan swats at her with an eggy spatula that she barely dodges. She can’t help the squeak that falls from her lips and reflects the bright smile dawning on Cardan’s face. “Go back to bed,” He grumbles. “You’re ruining the whole concept of breakfast in it!”

“Breakfast in bed is wherever I claim the bed is,” She chirps back, reaching around his slender shoulders to snag a few chocolate chips from the bag. “I mean, technically, I could say your penis is the bed. What would you do then, huh?”

Although he isn’t looking at her, she can tell just from the sudden tension in his shoulders that she’s made him think.

Good.

“Go away, Jude.” His response is more of a snarl than it is a statement.

“You loooooovvveee me,” Jude sings when Cardan turns to face her, brown eyes amused and rough hands holding out her beloved BB-8 coffee mug.

“Apparently.” He says, snorting, but his gaze is warm.

Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, she snags her mug from him and hops down to head back to the bedroom when he grabs her arm and pulls her back into his chest.

“You forgot your tray, darling,” Cardan murmurs lowly in her ear, and Jude really can’t help the shot of heat that courses through her veins at that very moment.

If she had witnesses, she’d blame it on the coffee.

But as always, Cardan has other plans.

He hands her a small tray with what appears to be blueberry muffins (her favorite), a small vase of peonies, and a leather book.

“Don’t read it without me, okay?” Cardan’s eyes are serious now, sharp and sudden, and Jude’s dreams of a morning romp are moderately dashed by the severity in his gaze. “Please?”

“Fine.” She huffs, and he ruffles her hair and presses a kiss to her temple before she traipses back to bed.

Jude waits for less than two minutes. What could he possibly be doing? Turning off the oven? (Anyone who truly knew her knows about her lack of patience.) “Anytime soon would be great, Cardan!”

She gets a muffled response, but by then, her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan.  Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads, and Jude snorts in amusement (what was with him and his affinity for writing letters) before turning another page.

Day One:

So you’ll probably call me an idiot (because that’s what you do), but I’ve never wanted to do this for any other person in my life. You’re special, and I’ve known that for years, but it wasn’t until tonight when we both stumbled through asking each other out that it made me realize that you’re unparalleled in every other relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life. Even with Nicasia.

You’re so special to me, Jude, and I was so sure you would never, EVER, want to be with me.

As of now, we’ve been going out for three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. It’s been the best three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds of my life. I like this feeling, so I’m going to keep it going, okay?

Is that okay with you?

Jude gapes. Holy shit.

She flips to the next page.

Day Two:

So we went out on our first official date tonight, and we went to that really quaint coffee shop on Elfhame—The Court of Shadows, it was called. It was a nice evening out, so we sat outside. You wore this stunning purple dress that made your eyes shine, and you laughed at all my dumb jokes and it was like we were best friends again, only this time I knew I could kiss you if I wanted to.

The whole time, I really wanted to.

But when it got colder out as the evening went on, I figured it was time for hot coffee, so I went in to order. The line was long, but you couldn’t see that, so when I left the shop, you were coming in. I was so focused on making sure I didn’t spill that I didn’t see you, and you were so concerned that I was fighting with a barista or something that you didn’t see me, and when we crashed, I was so sure it was over.

I’m still not sure what I said— I thought it might’ve been my horror or my stream of apologetic consciousness that made you forgive me for staining your favorite dress— but instead, you just looked at me. Just looked at me, hard, and I swear once again that I thought it was over. I thought I’d ruined my chance with you.

I know I have the potential within me to love you forever, starting from today (not that I didn’t before, but you know)—because you looked up at me from the ground, fucking beamed and me, and said, “Cardan, the coffee’s cold.” Then you grabbed my hand and dragged me to Steak ‘n Shake, you in your beautiful albeit coffee-stained purple dress, and me with my pit-stained, ruffled shift and frazzled hair.

That burger was the best I’ve ever had, but I think it only tasted as good as it did because I had the best company around.

Oh, and you stole my milkshake. You owe me one, Duarte.

Jude can’t help it. Every word he has written makes her shake; her fingers tremble as they deftly flip the pages and trace the ink where he’d pressed so hard— his feelings literally engraving themselves into immortality. She reads the following entries, her heart swelling more and more with every line. Cardan has written every day for the past five years, detailing the highs and lows of their relationship. She cannot stop the laughter; she cannot stop the way her eyes fill with tears at his declarations of her beauty.

Some of her favorite memories are his, and Jude’s no stranger to Cardan’s writing style— she was there when he began and finished his first romance novel, was the one who read every single page and argued with him about the relationship between Hades and Persephone, and was the person peering over his shoulder as he sent out queries to agents. Jude was the person to pour him a glass of red wine when he finally found one, and the first one to congratulate him when the book was sold. But to read of the memories she plays in her head every time they fight or every time they make love, her best ones, her favorite ones, she really cannot believe her previous claims about being so deeply in love with Cardan Greenbriar.

She has never been more in love with him than in this moment with this gift.

Day 11:

We told our friends about us today. I wasn’t sure if you were ready, but as soon as we entered the Court of Shadows, you smacked a kiss to the corner of my lips and laced your fingers with mine, and Liliver whooped so loudly that I thought I wouldn’t hear again.

Then everybody passed the Roach money, and then they started taking bets on when I’d propose.

Believe me, that’s not going to happen yet. I want to get to know you, my sweet villain, and although I’ve known you since I was eleven, I want to know you as more than my best friend.

But instead of scolding our friends (why the hell do I even call them that? They’re incorrigible), you just laughed and made a joke about that episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas and distracted everyone. You kept tracing your thumb along the lines of my palm underneath the table, and you looked at me and I thought, “I love you.”

Hopefully I’ll be able to say it to you soon enough. I’ll practice it here: I love you.

It feels pretty good.

Not all the entries are professions of love. A few detail their fights, funny moments, touching moments, and she loves every word. Her hazel eyes water, and she blinks, reaching up to wipe quickly across her eyes as to avoid getting water on the pages.

Day 42:

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME VIVI DUARTE IS SO MUCH SCARIER WHEN SHE’S NOT MY FRIEND BUT MY GIRLFRIEND’S OLDER SISTER?

I love you.

Day 91:

Happy three-month anniversary. Please don’t eat all the chocolate-covered strawberries. Thanks.

I love you.

Day 133:

You came over from work today with sweat glistening through your clothing, around your hair, and on your face— the only thing you said to me was, “I love my job, Cardan.”

I’m so happy you’re happy. 

I love you.

Day 242:

You said it back.

 I love you.

Day 276:

Why are you so fucking good at Mario Kart? I’ve BEEN in the car when you drive. How you haven’t crashed is beyond me.

I love you.

Day 311:

Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.

You looked gorgeous tonight, your hair in curls falling down your back, eyes full of mischief, and in that lilac dress I spilled coffee on whilst on our first date.  

How the hell did I get you to fall in love with me? Some days I can’t believe it. But those days are getting fewer and farther in between.

I really do believe I’ll be with you the rest of my life. You don’t know that yet, of course, but maybe I’ll say it to you. Maybe one day I’ll believe it myself.

I love you.

Day 353:

Godsdamn, you’re blasting “Making Love Out of Nothing At All,” outside my window á la Say Anything because we had a fight. I thought you didn’t care when I said I was so glad we began our relationship and took your silence to mean this was over; you did care, but couldn’t put all you felt into words, and I needed to hear it to quell my own fears.

The song’s quite fitting, isn’t it—on both our ends?

It’s an apology. The words might not be yours, but I hear you. I forgive you. Always.

I’m sorry, too.

I love you.  

Day 398:

I’m going to tell you I have to go to Rome for four months for research on my next book. I don’t know how you’ll take it.

I love you.

Day 468:

Being away from you every day is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I miss your smile and the way it reveals itself, slowly and shyly, before becoming suddenly the brightest thing in my line of vision. I miss your hair (it’s befitting of a queen such as you) and how it smells like honey and those absolutely disgusting peanut butter and honey sandwiches you eat (seriously, HOW do you eat those?). I miss your eyes, and I swear I wake up in the middle of the night completely dazed by the colors of the forest. I miss your laugh, I miss how you say my name, I miss the way you look after sex and the way you murmur and kiss whispers of love on my skin when I push into you, I miss the way you koala-hug me when we’re cuddling, I miss your competitiveness and how you look after you get a Jeopardy question wrong and lose to me, I miss the sound of your voice when you sing “I Won’t Say I’m in Love,” in the shower, I miss you totally drinking me under the table and you dragging Severus Snape with every single curse word you can think of and I miss you telling me in person you love me. I miss telling you in person that I love you.

I guess I just miss you.

Please don’t be mad at me. 

I love you.

Day 500:

You’re the fucking best at phone sex.

I love you.

Day 588:

I’m coming home to you, and I don’t really want to be apart from you again.

I love you.

Day 619:

I don’t even know what we fought about at this point. It was probably dumb. I don’t know whose fault it is. All I know is that I’m sorry. I hope you decide to let me share the bed with you tonight.

And I love you.

Day 730:

I’m thinking about asking you to marry me. It’s our second anniversary… It seems fitting. You’re asleep right now, napping after work, and I’ve just ordered pizza—Hawaiian with extra cheese, just like you like. You’ll wake up as soon as the food gets here. Your stomach never betrays you.

I love you.

Day 846:

You ran into Locke at the grocery today, and I nearly broke up with you right then and there.

We’ve been fighting a lot lately. I don’t even know what about. Every time I speak, you snap, and every time I go to touch you, you recoil. I don’t remember the last time you replied to my, “I love you.”

I still don’t know what I did. I’m sorry.

I love you.

Day 847:

We were sitting on the sofa watching Planet Earth, and you turned to me suddenly, pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, and rested your head on my shoulder.

We’ll be okay.

I love you, and you love me.

Day 952:

My lease is up. Wanna live with me?

I love you.

Day 975:

I don’t know about you, but I’m loving life with you.

Even though you are literally the clumsiest person known to man and break every single dish we own, have a habit of stealing the books I’m currently reading, and never make our bed when I leave early and don’t get a chance to do it— you’re alright, my darling. I think I’ll keep you.

I love you.

Day 1000:

You’re cute when you drool in your sleep.

I love you.  

Day 1095:

So I’m sitting here next to you with the single greatest anniversary gift ever, and I don’t think I could be more content. You’re asleep, so thankfully you aren’t seeing me write this, but for future readings, I’m sorry about the spilled ink… Gus got ahold of the pen.

Note to self and to you: Don’t let kittens chew things.

Gus seems to agree.

I love you.

Day 1273:

So Vivi’s been bugging me for a while now, because apparently she’s going to win the bet if I propose within the next year. She wants to go ring shopping to ensure that she’ll win.

Joke’s on her— I already have the ring.

I love you.

Jude’s breath caught.

Day 1461:

You asked me today why I love you, and I told you that I couldn’t tell you why.

Jude, you started to get mad and tried to pull away just as I told you that I couldn’t tell you why because there are too many reasons. I told you that we’d be there all day if I listed every single reason why I love you. We might be there for days, weeks, months, years even. I cannot describe how much you mean to me. Just know that when I say I love you, it’s so much more than that.

I cannot fathom what it would be like if you were not in my life. Thankfully, you’re here, and I love you. Happy fourth anniversary.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Day 1499:

Geez, I think this journal is getting a little long, don’t you?

I love you.

Day 1587:

I’ve thought about this for years now, and I think I’ve finally perfected my idea.

I love you.

Day 1617:

You’re going to be so mad that you didn’t see this coming. Seriously, Duarte. For the woman who is so terrifyingly good at figuring out those mystery TV shows, you really have no idea. Either that, or you’re just really good at hiding it.

I’m betting it’s the former, though.

I love you.

Day 1765:

Only a few more days… I think you’ll be happy to know that none of our friends will win the bet.

Oh, except me. Did I mention I entered it? Yeah, I bet on us WAY back when.

I love you.

Day 1825:

It’s going to be weird actually giving this to you tomorrow. After all, there’s five years’ worth of my thoughts in here, five years of my thoughts about you kept from you.

I’m going to tell you not to read it until I bring you food (because food always makes you happy, and slightly more agreeable), but because I know you, I’ve accepted the fact that you’ve probably disregarded my request and are reading this right now.

So.

I love you. Just wanted you to know that, you know, in case you couldn’t tell.

P.S.- I’m going to pull the blinds so “those damn birds,” don’t wake you up right away. I have some stuff to do. You know.

Day 1826:

I love you.

Will you marry me?

Tears stream down her face, and Jude hears a soft, “Oh,” come from the entryway to their bedroom.

There Cardan stands, holding a tray of food and looking somewhat sheepish. He sets down the tray on a nearby dresser and turns to look at her softly. His gray sweatpants hug his hips, his dark blue shirt rides up slightly, and his dark curls fall in front of his face, hiding his eyes.

But Jude knows Cardan.

She knows that although his face is composed, he’s shaking inside. She knows that every fiber in his being is screaming at him to run away, to protect himself. She knows he’s always been last in his own mind, that he always chooses to care for others before himself, and that he doesn’t think he deserves her or any of his friends and family. She knows that this journal he’s kept for her for five years is a story of his real emotions, how she really makes him feel, that some of these words are things he’ll never say aloud. She knows he’s terrified about being an uncle to the Roach and Liliver’s unborn child, she knows that he talks to Gus out loud and considers him one of his best friends, she knows that he actually thinks there’s a chance that she won’t accept his proposal.

She’s firmly okay with the rest, but what she won’t stand for is him believing in the last one.

“Um,” Cardan says as he approaches her and immediately her eyes are drawn to his fingers, which flex as he draws nearer. He wants to touch her.

“I guess this is the part where I get down on one knee.” Cardan’s smile is self-deprecating, and Jude doesn’t think she can take any more because her heart is going to burst out of her chest.

When he lowers himself down, she bursts into tears.

When she was little, and thinking about getting proposed to, she, haughty, had always thought she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be that overcome with emotion.

Yet.

“Jude,” Cardan murmurs, reaching out and tenderly wiping the tears speeding down her cheeks. “For years I’ve loved you. Some of them were spent with you as my best friend, flinging dirt into my hair and making me push you on the swings. Others were spent in a classroom, quizzing me on my Greek mythology class and me helping you make up lesson plans for your third graders. But the best couple of years of my life have been with you next to me in every way possible, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate those years, those feelings, and those memories without you. So, Jude… will you… Jude, will you marry me?”

Cardan doesn’t even get a chance to get the ring out of his pocket before Jude hurls herself at him, knocking over the vase of peonies and attaching her mouth to his.

They fall on the soft carpet, Cardan grunting out as Jude lands on top of him, but his arms tighten around her as she proceeds to press wet kisses onto every square inch of his face, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes, I love you, I love you,” while she does so.

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

The last line on the last page of the journal is written in new curly handwriting:

Property of Cardan Greenbriar (and Jude Duarte).

[piccadilly-lilly]

“The predicament in which Isolde and I found ourselves seemed fictional, fantastic right from the start. 　 We met while I was on holiday behind the Iron Curtain. I was a Swedish student working for my doctorate in political science. She was a medical student from East Berlin: beautiful, slender with dark hair and smiling eyes. In a few days we were in love and, three months later, visiting her at her flat in East Berlin, I asked her to marry me. 　 "But that is impossible," Isolde said, her eyes brimming with tears. "The authorities would never let me leave the country." 　 I refused to take no for an answer, and finally convinced her that she must try to escape. On a map, we examined the communist borders stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea and considered how we'd slip out. By that time (July 1965), all the standard means of escape such as a break through the Berlin Wall, were too risky. 　 Suddenly, to my own astonishment, I heard myself say, "I'll fly you out Isolde." 　 Her eyebrows shot up. "But I didn't know you were a pilot." 　 "I'm not," I admitted. I had never been in a cockpit in my life. But I will go back to Sweden and learn to fly, and then I'll fetch you." Isolde looked at me as if I were crazy but before the evening was over, she agreed that a small plane was our best chance. 　 The trouble was that, within an hour of my first lesson in Stockholm, I learned that flying definitely was not my strong point. My coordination was poor, my depth perception and sense of balance wretched. 　 But I kept at it, and eventually I was learning how to execute ludicrously inept landings. My instructor, however, was not encouraging. My persistence in flying too low over the treetops (one day I would have to fly that low to get in under the Communist radar beams) especially upset him. "Higher, higher!"  he'd shout. "We don't want to lose our plane!" 　 It took me nearly a year, 40 training hours in the air, to get my pilot's certificate. One August day in 1966, I got the precious document. I also succeeded in obtaining a tourist visa valid for two entries to Czechoslovakia, which we had decided was the country best suited for the rescue flight. 　 Next morning, Sunday, August 14, I took the train to Vienna and on Monday drove from there to the nearby check border in a hired car.  The frontier police examined my visa and painstakingly checked my car and luggage. I made myself relax. How were they to know that my real mission here was to find a suitable out of the way field in which to land and pick up Isolde? 　 I selected an abandoned pasture north of Bratislava and about 25 miles east of Vienna, near a point where the sombre, wooden guard towers were a little farther apart than usual. 　 Although there were no Cessnas  - the only plane with which I was familiar - available in Vienna, I learned that I could hire one in Salzburg, 155 miles away. I took the train there, and proved to an inspector at the airport that I could handle the plane. Then I managed to navigate the little aircraft back over the unfamiliar landscape to Vienna. 　 Everything was now ready. From Salzburg I had sent Isolde the coded telegram she had waited so long for. "MAGNUS ARRIVES AT 16.40 BRUNO." In the Swedish calendar, of which Isolde had a copy, each day has a special Christian name. Magnus was the following day, Friday, August 19 and I was asking Isoldeto meet me at the railway station in Brno, Czechoslovakia. 　 On Friday afternoon, I sped by car to Brno, 68 miles away. Isolde was there at the station. In our joy at being together again we forgot for an hour or so that the night held any problems for us. 　 By dinner, our laughter was hollow, our smiles frozen. We were aware that we might be celebrating our last meal. After dark we drove to the "escape field." I switched off the lights before leaving the road and crossed the pasture in the dark. 　 There was no time to waste. At any moment the tower's searchlight, slashing about in circles just 330 yards away, might spot the car. 　 "Hide there in the trees until morning," I told Isolde. "I"ll come just before dawn. When you see my plane, wave your scarf to show me where you are. And remember , whatever happens, I love you." 　 Back in Vienna two hours later, I was far too excited to sleep. instead, I wrote a letter to my parents in Sweden, telling them for the first time about Isolde, and asking for their understanding in case anything went wrong. At about 3 a.m. I checked out of the hotel and went to the airport where I explained that "urgent business in Salzburg" required me to take off just as soon as it was light. But I had hardly settled in the cockpit when the sky was split by jagged forks of lightning, followed by tremendous thunderclaps. Then the rain began to fall and I was unable to take off. 　 For two more hours I fumed and fretted, waiting for the storm to abate. Finally, at 8 o'clock sharp, I was cleared for takeoff. 　 Once outside the traffic pattern, I dived to treetop level to slip under the radar surveillance at the border. Hedge-hopping, I followed the main railway into Czechoslovakia, swept in between the two guard towers I'd chosen and skimmed over the empty pasture at an altitude of only 65 feet. 　 No familiar jumper, no waving red scarf. Isolde was not there. I banked, and rolled back towards the two guard towers. Terrified, I fully expected the soldiers, plainly visible on the towers, to open fire. But I had caught them off guard. 　 Safely back in Vienna I was utterly exhausted and worried sick about what might have happened to Isolde. There was only one thing to do. I hired another car and rushed back to Czechoslovakia, to the Bratislava hotel where we had planned to meet if anything went wrong. She was there, safe though badly shaken. 　 In her hiding place she had been drenched with rain, frightened by unfamiliar night sounds, and terrified when, at dawn, she had heard a burst of shots from the near-by border. Remembering our agreement that I would arrive shortly after the dawn she was afraid something had happened to me. Yet she had waited for me until full daylight, only then had she left her hiding place and found a road where, eventually, a motorist picked her up. 　 Despite her ordeal and knowing that a second attempt might be twice as dangerous, Isolde was eager to try again. "What other chance will we ever have, Hans?" She asked. 　 The following morning we set out north along the border searching for a new "escape field". We found it near the little town of Mikulow. It was well marked by a small lake and a tall pine grove which I believed I could easily see from the air. 　 I left Isolde there about 3.30 p.m., again promising to pick her up at dawn the next day, Monday August 22. 　 On the way back to Vienna I stopped briefly in several towns to make small sketches of the distinctive church steeples in each. These, I hoped, would help lead me back to the meadow. It was late afternoon when I stopped at the airport. Because the airport people were still friendly, I knew the Czech authorities had not lodged a complaint about my illegal morning flight. 　 Trying to sound casual, I asked the meteorologist, "What about the flying weather tomorrow, good?" 　 "No," he said. "Low hanging clouds are moving in early tonight." This meant that with my limited experience, takeoff and landing might be impossible by morning. The news hit me like a blow in the stomach. If all our efforts were not to be in vain, I would have to act quickly. It was now 5.30 and soon it would be getting dark. 　 I rushed over to the flight operations desk and tried to keep my voice level as I said, "I'd like to take a little exercise flight just to see the sunset." "Alright," said the flight dispatcher, but since you are not cleared for night flying you must be back by dusk-no later!" I knew I couldn't get back before dark, and I've never flown at night. But there was no time to worry about it. I dashed for my plane and took off. 　 Following the church steeples I'd sketched, I found my stretch of frontier, dived to an altitude of only 30 feet and leapfrogged a hill between two guard towers. Suddenly, right in front of me and less than 100 yards away, was a third tower I hadn't seen before. I missed the tower top by what seemed inches. A soldier opened his eyes wide with terror as I practically flew into his open mouth. 　 But the near-miss disorientated me. Where was the little lake, the tall pine grove where I had left Isolde. Circling, I found one lake, then another, but neither was ours. I broke into a cold sweat the light was fading fast. 　 With shaking hands, I took out my map and saw that there were only three lakes in the whole area. Climbing to get a broader view, I suddenly saw it, and saw to my enormous relief, OUR field beside it, our pine grove… and a tiny figure frantically waving a red scarf. 　 it was certainly one of the worst landings I ever made. I came in too high, overshot the field and had to break heavily to stop. Without a word Isolde jumped into the seat beside me. Almost instantly we were roaring up into the dusk in a take off as bad as the landing. I could almost hear the sound of machine-gun fire as I spiralled up as fast as I could. It was now quite dark and all the familiar landmarks had vanished. I did the only thing I could: took a compass heading of the opposite direction from which I had come. 　 Luck was with us. After some 20 acutely anxious minutes, we spotted in the distance a cluster of jewelled lights – Vienna!  – then the straight, beaded string of lights that marked the airport runway. I made my approach just as if it were daytime. When I thought the runway lights whizzing by looked big enough, I pulled up the plane's nose and made an amazingly smooth landing. 　 One last hurdle remained: the airport authorities must not see Isolde or back she might go. We had planned for her to slip away into the darkness of the big field. But just as she was getting out, a car from the control tower board down on us with blazing headlights. 　 "Hide!" I whispered. Isolde scrambled back into the baggage compartment and disappeared just before a furious air control officer pulled up. 　 "You've put us to a lot of bother tonight," he snapped. "We even contacted Czech Air Control to see if they'd seen or heard you." My heart sank. "They said they had, but only over Austria, and that's a good thing for you, mister. You can get into serious trouble blundering across the border!" 　 He drove away, and I taxied the plane to a hangar. As an attendant blinded by my lights, opened the hangar door, I told Isolde,  "Quick run for it."  She did, without being seen. I met her outside the field and we drove jubilantly into town. 　 Next morning I sneaked Isolde back aboard and flew her to West Germany, where I landed in a field and let her out. After returning my plane to Salzburg I rejoined her. It took her a month to get her papers, and on her 25th birthday she arrived in Stockholm. We were married in the white stone church where I'd been christened, and we left on our honeymoon by car. I no longer fly planes.”

-Hans Christian Cars, from a translation of “Flykten över järnridån”

[myforeverforlife]

can’t bring me down.

For @kyung-seokie​! Kyungsoo and 4. "Who gave you that black eye?" + 27. "Oh, fuck off."

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Word Count: 3,848

Masterlist

You woke to the sound of pans clattering against the stove top. With a groan, you rolled over to grab your phone from the nightstand, squinting at the bright light from the screen.

"Nine in the morning," you mumbled incoherently. "Why is he already awake?" 

Kyungsoo was typically an early bird, making the most of the morning hours even when you complained about getting more rest. You sat up in bed as you realized if Kyungsoo was already awake, that could only mean one thing...

You jumped out of bed, bare feet padding against the floor as you hurried out to the kitchen. Sure enough, your boyfriend stood in front of the stove, a serious look on his face as he mixed something around in a pot. You couldn't help but smile at how handsome he was, even with an imprint of his pillowcase on his cheek. 

Kyungsoo lifted the ladle in his hand to his mouth, blowing on the broth as the steam fogged up his glasses. Carefully, he took tiny sips, nodding approvingly as he set the ladle aside. 

With light steps, you crept over until you were right behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, Kyungsoo stiffening in surprise until he realized it was you. He relaxed instantly, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Good morning," he said warmly. 

"Morning, Soo." You leaned in to kiss his cheek, grinning when Kyungsoo moved his face closer to give you easier access. "What are you making?"  

"Seaweed soup. I added some shiitake mushrooms too. Do you want to try some?"

"Is that even a question? Of course I do." 

You let go of your boyfriend, coming to his side as he got another spoonful for you. It was touching to see how he blew on the soup, cooling it down for you. He turned to offer the spoon to you, freezing when he saw you with your mouth open. You held his gaze, raising an eyebrow as you waited.

Kyungsoo just stared back, corners of his lips lifting up as he shook his head. Cupping his hand under the spoon, he slowly brought it closer to spoon the broth into your mouth. 

"Mm!" you exclaimed, quickly swallowing down the broth. "Soo, this is so good." 

"You say that about almost everything I make." Kyungsoo turned back to the stove, turning off the heat and looking for bowls to serve the soup in.

"Because it's true," you sang. "I'll set the table! Is there anything else you want me to grab?"

"There's some side dishes in the fridge that I didn't take out yet. I'll get the rice too." 

Both of you worked together in comfortable silence, the only sounds the occasional clinking of bowls and silverware as the two of you moved around. You gasped with delight when you saw that Kyungsoo had made your favorite purple multi-grain rice. 

"I've been meaning to grab another bag from the store," you mused as you watched him scoop the rice into two small bowls. "Thank you, love." 

"It's nothing. I had some free time before work yesterday." Kyungsoo followed you to the table, setting the final bowls down before taking a seat. 

You eagerly dug into your food, a smile on your face with each bite that you took. Kyungsoo was always a harsh critic when it came to his own cooking, so you made it an effort to let him know whenever you enjoyed what he made — which honestly, was most of the time. 

"Do you have practice today?" you asked. It was a Sunday, but Kyungsoo had been staying at the dojo late for the past month in preparation for his upcoming judo competition this week. Each one was a big deal, but this one even more so — if he won, Kyungsoo would move on to the preliminaries for the province-wide tournament. 

Your boyfriend shook his head, still chewing his food. "Not today. But I'll be staying late after class tomorrow. You don't have to wait for me." 

"But I like going home together. Plus, it gives me a chance to see you in your judogi." 

Kyungsoo glanced up at you before focusing on the food before him, cheeks taking on a subtle flush of pink. "It's just a uniform." 

"It's a uniform on the most handsome judo teacher ever. Oh, and most skilled." 

"Stop." Kyungsoo was hiding behind his food at this point, bowl lifted to his mouth as he drank his soup. 

You chuckled softly to yourself. It was always satisfying to dote on and compliment shy Kyungsoo, especially when his reactions were so amusing. "Soo?" you called out.

"Hm?" 

"I love you."

Kyungsoo smiled that gentle smile of his, eyes filled with a warmth that never grew cold — not when you were nearby. "I love you too." 

You blew a kiss to him, bursting into giggles when he pretended to dodge out of the way. 

"Hurry up and finish your food before it gets cold," Kyungsoo scolded good-naturedly. 

As busy as life got, Kyungsoo never forgot to take care of himself, along with reminding you to look out for your own well-being. Sometimes, you felt bad about how Kyungsoo looked out for you more than you did for yourself. 

Sneaking a glance at him, you noticed how the shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, remembering how tired he always seemed to be after coming home from practicing at the dojo. You made a mental note to bring him dinner tomorrow after work. It was the least you could do for him, especially when he was always supporting you in your own endeavors. 

"You're zoning out," Kyungsoo said. He cast you a concerned look, head tilting slightly to the side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how much work you've been putting in for this competition. You work so hard all the time, I'm just glad that you get a day to relax like this." 

Underneath the table, Kyungsoo reached out with one slipper-covered foot, gently nudging against your own bare one. "It's nothing that I'm not used to. I'll be fine." 

"Still, I'm always scared that you'll end up overworking yourself and getting hurt at one of your matches."

"Judo's a defensive sport. I'll be okay, Y/N. Really." He reached across the table, smiling when you placed your hand in his. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand, tracing lines over your knuckles. "You don't have to worry about me." 

Rolling your eyes, you squeezed his hand tightly. "Of course I have to worry about you. You're my boyfriend, Soo." 

"I won't let anything happen to me, Y/N."

You pouted at the certainty in his voice. It was one thing to say this, and yet another to live up to it. "Okay, I'm holding you to that." 

A sudden glint of determination came into Kyungsoo's eye, a look you only saw whenever he was competing. "I'll win this one for you, Y/N. I promise." 

Kyungsoo walked steadily along the sidewalk, plastic bags in his hand as he left the store. Normally, he would jump right into practice after he was done teaching for the day, but things were different when some of his juniors offered to stay behind and help. Taeil was always a faithful assistant instructor, and Mark always eager to learn through experience. Kyungsoo was extremely grateful to them for spending these late hours with him at the dojo, and always took the chance to thank them by buying food. 

As he neared the dojo, he noticed a couple of men leaning against the wall by the entrance. They weren't the right sizes to be Taeil and Mark, and Kyungsoo was still too far away to see their faces. He considered taking the long way around and going in through the back entrance when one of the people turned around, staring right at him. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, the stranger lazily began walking over. 

Kyungsoo stopped where he stood, a shiver running down his spine. Whoever these people were, he didn't have a good feeling about them. He was about to turn away when the man called out to him.

"Do Kyungsoo!" 

Hesitating, Kyungsoo gripped the bags in his hand more tightly. "Who are you?"

"Really? The competition's in a few weeks, and you don't know who I am?" 

Kyungsoo frowned in confusion. He hadn't looked up any pictures of his opponent, and honestly wouldn't have known what his name was if Taeil and Mark hadn't read over the competition details to him. And yet, there was really one good guess as to who this could be. "Kim Taejung?" 

The man laughed loudly, looking at the rest of his group. "He asks as if he doesn't know." 

"I really don't know," Kyungsoo replied brusquely. "But you can start by explaining why you're waiting here. The dojo's closed for today." 

"I just wanted to say hello in person, get a look at my opponent before the actual day." 

Kyungsoo's eyes hardened. "Do you do this with all of your opponents? Try to psych them out before the actual competition?" 

The man pulled his hands out of his pockets, lifting his arms as he shrugged. "You've got me there. I just wanted to make sure we're both clear about who's going to be the winner." 

There wasn't much that truly bothered Kyungsoo, but arrogance was at the top of the list — especially when it came to judo. Respect was one of the main tenets of the sport, and he had no patience for those who chose to disrespect others, even their opponents. 

But just as judo had taught Kyungsoo the importance of respect, it also taught him not to waste unnecessary energy. 

"Good luck," he said dismissively as he turned his back on Taejung, ready to walk around to the back entrance. A hand on his shoulder roughly pulled him back, spinning around just in time to see a fist aimed for his face. 

Kyungsoo shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as Taejung's fist collided with his face. He only had time to be grateful that he wasn't wearing his glasses before the pain set in, sharp and blooming over the tender area surrounding his left eye. There was no doubt that he would be left with a bruise.

He could hear shouts in the distance, but couldn't make sense of the words with the sudden pounding in his ears. One of Kyungsoo's hands came up to cup his eye, glaring at Taejung as the other man smirked. 

"It was nice meeting you, Do Kyungsoo." Taejung waved his friends over, all of them dashing off down the street to where they had parked, a few of them sparing glances back at where Kyungsoo stood staring after them. 

He still stood there after they left, wincing at the growing pain and starting to worry about how he would hide this from everyone — especially you. 

Kyungsoo walked into the dojo, eyebrows drawn low over his face as he slipped his shoes off. He could hear the sound of voices talking to each other in the training room, music playing in the background. Taking in a deep breath, he readied himself for the barrage of questions that he knew the others would have for him.

He opened the door, head held low. "I'm back," he said quietly. 

"Soo?" 

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. "Y/N?" 

As soon as he looked up, you gasped in horror at the red blotches covering the skin around his eye. The actual eye itself was red-rimmed, glossy with moisture.  

You were scrambling up from where you had been seated on the floor, Mark and Taeil following your example. "Soo, did someone punch you in the face?! Taeil, do you guys keep any ice packs here?"  

"I'll go look," Taeil said, hastily rushing over to the storage room. 

"Hyung," Mark spoke up. "What happened?!" 

You came over to Kyungsoo, a hand flying up to cover your mouth as you realized the full extent of his injury. "Who gave you that black eye?!"

"Kim Taejung was waiting outside," Kyungsoo replied. "He just wanted to try and mess with me before the competition." "He hurt you," you said indignantly. "Soo, you need to go to the hospital." 

"It's not that bad." 

You fixed him with an icy glare. "Don't you dare try to pretend like you're not hurt right now. You need to see a doctor for your eye."

Taeil ran back into the room, out of breath as he held the ice pack out to Kyungsoo. "We need to contact the tournament directors."

"No," Kyungsoo disagreed immediately, taking all of you by surprise. "Don't tell them about it, I'll be fine." He lifted the ice pack to his face, hissing as it touched his skin. 

"Do Kyungsoo," you said lowly. "We're seeing a doctor, even if I have to drag you out of here myself." 

Kyungsoo swallowed nervously. Both of you were ridiculously stubborn, but he knew when you meant business. And so, he went along with not even a single complaint as you ushered him into your car, his training gear tossed in the back.

"We'll lock up tonight," Taeil said through the window. Mark stood by his side, his usual cheerful expression replaced with a somber look. 

You nodded, rolling your window down. "Thank you. Make sure you two stay safe too. I'll let you know how he's doing." 

The next half-hour was spent in a clinic, waiting for a doctor to check out Kyungsoo's eye. Even as the two of you waited patiently, Kyungsoo tried to reassure you that his injury looked worse than it actually felt.

But you wouldn't feel better until a doctor told you the results.

After careful inspection, the doctor concluded that there was no significant damage done to the eye. "The redness that you saw earlier in the actual eye was most likely a reaction to the initial force," she explained. "But the skin underneath your eye area is still pretty red, and it'll probably start to turn darker in the coming days. If you start to notice anything different with your vision, go to a hospital right away. Other than that, keep icing the injury, but don't put pressure on it! Take some ibuprofen too if it continues to hurt."

You and Kyungsoo both let out a long exhale in unison, thankful that nothing was too serious. 

"Thank you, doctor," Kyungsoo said. As the doctor nodded and made to leave, Kyungsoo looked to you, noticing the way your lips were pursed in a tight line. He knew without a doubt that you were still upset about what happened. 

Sure enough, you were silent the rest of the way back, only asking him if there was enough ibuprofen at home. Your hands were gripped tightly on the steering wheel, expression blank while you drove as if on autopilot. Even taciturn Kyungsoo was starting to grow antsy as the silence dragged on, finally speaking up once the two of you were back home.

"Y/N, talk to me," he pleaded. Kyungsoo placed his hands on your waist, searching your eyes for the troubles lying within.

"I just... what if it had been worse? What if we actually had go to the hospital? Soo, I was so scared when you walked in looking like this," you burst out, all of the pent up emotions finally free. "And you try to play it off like it's nothing, but this was the scariest shit I've ever seen. I can't believe you don't want to report that scumbag for this." 

Kyungsoo pulled you closer, only mere centimeters between the two of you. "I don't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he's already beaten me. If I win, I want to know that I won because of my own skills." 

You scoffed. "You say 'if', like we don't already know you're going to win. Sometimes, you're too modest for your own good." 

"It's okay. Your faith in me balances it all out." Kyungsoo couldn't help but smile as your eyes grew wide with surprise. 

"If you're trying to distract me from being mad, it's not working." Despite your words, you brought a hand up to gingerly brush your fingers over his cheek. "I still don't like the idea of you competing against him." 

"We'll be in a room full of people, he won't be able to do anything without the referees noticing." 

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Kyungsoo would be safer during the actual competition than he had been tonight. "Don't mess him up too much," you said. "I want a chance to get my hands on that jerk, too." 

Kyungsoo sighed. "That's not what judo's for, Y/N." 

You recalled all of the times Kyungsoo had talked about how judo was considered a peaceful form of martial arts. "I guess it's a good thing that you're the professional and not me." 

Shaking his head with a smile, Kyungsoo leaned in to kiss you, soft lips moving against yours. Both of you were careful to leave the left side of his face alone, the skin under his eye still colored a bright red. Each brush of his lips only melted away more and more of your worries, grounding you in the here and now. 

In the back of your mind, you knew that everything would be fine. Kyungsoo had come this far, and once he put his mind to something, there was no backing down. 

Even if he didn't win, you would be proud of him nevertheless.

The big day had finally arrived, the air charged with anticipation. 

A few matches were already taking place, judokas each focused on their opponent and blocking out everything else around them. You sat in the stands, hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited anxiously for Kyungsoo's turn to come. Mark sat beside you, just as nervous.

"Hyung's turn is coming up next," Mark told you, looking at the roster displayed on a screen close by. 

A buzz from your phone had you scrambling to unlock it, a new message from Taeil just coming in: "Headed out there now." 

You were grateful that Taeil had offered to stand in as Kyungsoo's "coach" for this competition, offering him moral support and talking through technique with him as they waited in the locker room. 

The doors at the side of the area opened, Kyungsoo coming out first in his blue judogi followed by Taeil. Your eyes narrowed as you realized who the person following after them was — Kim Taejung. His mouth was curved into a smug grin as he waved at people in the stands. 

"Oh, fuck off," you muttered under your breath, Mark's mouth falling open at your sudden outburst. 

The men walked over to the edge of the tatami mats, Kyungsoo and Taeil talking to each other while Taejung did the same with who you assumed was his own coach. Even from this distance, you could see the dark burgundy splotches around Kyungsoo's eye, the injury looking more terrifying than before.

"This is crazy," Mark spoke up. "I mean, if he wins here, and then wins at the province-wide competitions, and then moves to nationals — " 

"Mark, calm down." You laid a hand on his shoulder. "We're both going to start freaking out at this rate." 

"Match number three," a voice came from the speakers. "Do Kyungsoo and Kim Taejung." 

Both men walked to opposite sides of the mats, bowing before stepping onto the actual mats, and then walking to the center before stopping to bow to each other. As Kyungsoo straightened back up, you were struck by how quickly his expression had changed, his round eyes taking on a steely gaze, brows drawn low as he waited for his opponent to make the first move.

Taejung lunged forward, hands gripping onto the collar of Kyungsoo's judogi as Kyungsoo tried to keep his opponent from knocking him off balance. 

Considering judo was a sport characterized by throws and pinning the other person down, the first half minute consisted of both men circling around each other. A few times, it seemed like Kyungsoo had gained the upper hand, a firm hold on Taejung's judogi only for the other man to slip out of his grasp.  

The jacket of Kyungsoo's judogi was undone by this point, chest exposed as he continued to avoid Taejung's movements and counter with his own. He only had five minutes in total to score one point and win the match, and two minutes had already slipped past. 

You gasped when Kyungsoo managed to hook a foot around Taejung's leg, swiftly turning around and throwing the other man to the ground. The referree awarding him a half-point for managing to bring his opponent down. 

Taejung was livid, glaring at Kyungsoo as they jumped back into the match. His movements seemed more desperate, taking on the offensive as Kyungsoo continued to block his moves. At one point, it seemed like Taejung had the upper hand, holding onto Kyungsoo's judogi and trying to throw him onto his side. Kyungsoo started to fall, but grabbed onto Taejung's sleeves, feet slipping on the mats as he tried to keep his balance. 

"They only have a minute left," Mark said, peeking at the clock. 

You leaned forward in your seat, hands on your knees. "Come on, Soo," you whispered. 

Taejung tried to bring one foot around the back of Kyungsoo's leg, but he wasn't quick enough. Kyungsoo twisted out of the way and both of them stumbled apart, sweaty and out of breath. The referee stopped them for a second before continuing the match, only thirty seconds left. There was a bit of tussling, each of them trying to get the upper hand. 

Suddenly, Taejung's feet slipped against the mat, Kyungsoo quickly taking advantage of this and spinning around, pulling Taejung over his shoulder and throwing him down onto the mat. 

Your hands flew to cover your mouth as Kyungsoo stood up, the referee awarding him another half-point and declaring him the winner of the match. 

"Oh god, he did it," you shrieked, jumping up from your seat. 

Mark got up too, cupping his mouth with his hands and letting out a long yell.  

On the mat, Kyungsoo took a few steps back before bowing, Taejung reluctantly following suit. When he got back up, Kyungsoo turned to the rest of you watching from the stands, eyes searching for your face. A relieved grin appeared on his face once he caught sight of you. He was still charmingly handsome, even with sweat running down his face and the mottled bruise on his skin. 

You sent a bunch of kisses his way, laughing as his cheeks turned red. "I love you," you mouthed.

Kyungsoo waved back, lips moving as he said something. You couldn't hear him, but you knew what it was nevertheless — "I love you, too." 

You couldn't be more proud of him.

A/N: let me just say that watching videos of actual judo matches for reference was personally boring 😅 i’m definitely not a judo expert (or any sort of martial arts in general), and I’m also not a health expert so please keep that in mind if I wrote something incorrectly! I did so much research on belt rankings and competitions, and awarding points and stuff LOL I still can’t believe how short the actual matches are, but I’ve seen people say that 5 minutes seems like forever when you’re the person actually in the match. 

like with every other time I’m looking for names for oc’s, I looked to exo related movies: this time being soo’s “Room No. 7″. Also, funnily enough, I was inspired to go with this plot after seeing that “the karate kid” was up on netflix 😂 and then I remembered soo’s movie “hyung”. even though this isn’t related to the movie, I just wanted to write martial arts soo! I honestly think i’d write a fic for each of the members’ acting roles if I could haha

[kumkaniudaku]

Mama

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mama’s! I also hope those who may be experience tough mental states during this time were able to be surrounded by light and love. I care about you and your cute face. 

Little giggles and warnings to be quiet filled the kitchen of the Boseman home, the mid-morning sunshine lighting the brown faces huddled around the counter. The youngest of the group was the only member not covered in one of the ingredients sprawled across the marble surface. On a regular Sunday morning, the area would be kept tidy as CoCo moved around her sanctuary with trained precision to prepare breakfast for the family. But, for one of two special mornings during the year, Chadwick and the kids snuck around to beat Tasha to the punch and do the heavy lifting.

“Daddy, I don’t think Mommy will like this. It looks...nasty.”

Genuine shock flashed across Chadwick’s face before his booming laughter rang out.

“Does it really look nasty, Princess? You tellin’ me you wouldn’t eat some of your mommy’s favorite french toast?”

“Only if mommy makes it. This looks like sad pancakes.”

Chadwick took a look at the dish and silently agreed. 

Tasha had an affinity for brandy soaked French Toast from the moment her late grandmother allowed her to taste a piece when she was young. The dish was always reserved for special occasions and, in special cases, a session of lovemaking that was too incredible to overlook. When CoCo made them, the golden brown pieces of bread sat on the most expensive plates in the house covered in granny smith apples and syrup in all their glory. After Chadwick had taken his stab at the recipe, the results weren’t nearly as picturesque.

Instead of pillowy slices of challah arranged expertly on the plate, Tasha would be met with slightly mushy apples atop pieces of toast with varying shades of brown and the occasional speck of black. The recipe called for two tablespoons of booze, but without the patience to decide if the tablespoon he used was enough, Chadwick opted for a full shot from his wife’s “special” shot glass.

Micah was right. With the bread soaked in alcohol and apple juice, the french toast did look like sad pancakes.

“You know how you didn’t wanna eat broccoli and cheddar soup because you said it looked like snot,” Chadwick asked Micah who nodded in response. “But you liked it because I made it taste good! Well, your mama will like this because I made it taste good even though it looks like snot.”

“And because she thinks we’re cute?”

“Especially because she thinks we’re cute.”

The slow creak of a door opening above their heads made Chadwick wink to Micah with a smile.

“Mama,” Noah exclaimed, clapping his hands together to mimic the way Tasha would greet him with the good morning song and dance.

“I like the way you think, AJ. Let’s go feed Mama.”

Serving tray in hand, Chadwick helped Micah make careful steps up the stairs and to the room. Tasha’s conversation beyond the bathroom door was unusually groggy and slow with morning drowsiness. Some clever planning from Chadwick kept CoCo up past her self-imposed bedtime to buy time for breakfast prep the next morning. His efforts were paying off.

“Yeah ma, I don’t know where they are. It’s too quiet in here,” Tasha informed her mother over the phone.

“Well are you gonna look for ‘em?”

“No. Hopefully they’re out getting my gift. I’ve been dropping hints about an upgraded wedding ring.”

“You haven’t even been married a decade yet.”

“So? A girl could use new diamonds!”

“That boy spoils you rotten, child.”

“He does and I love him.”

Chadwick caught the small sigh on Tasha’s end of the conversation and smiled. She’d been dropping more than hints and the ring. She was making her way into the “let me come out and say it” category day by day.

“It doesn’t matter what I get anyway. I’m more interested in your reaction when you get your gift! I told Daddy to record it.”

“That must be what he’s calling my name for now. I’ll call you with the verdict later.”

CoCo exchanged goodbyes with her mother before dipping into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her absence gave Chadwick and the kids enough time to slip into the master bathroom unseen and set up her Best Mom Ever surprise. The moment her trophy was placed on the bedside table, CoCo opened the door.

“Happy Mama’s Day!”

A broad smile stretched across CoCo’s face as she clutched her chest and admired their excited faces.

“My babies! Is this for me?”

“Yeah! We got you gifts and a trophy and breakfast!”

“Well I’m excited. Show me what to do!”

While Micah gave her mother instructions, Chadwick took his moment to pepper Tasha’s cheek in kisses.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby. You the best.”

“Ooh does that mean I got my ring?”

“Of course. I installed the new doorbell last night.”

Backing away from his kiss, Tasha made her disgust known. “Get away and give me my son!”

“Ah don’t be like that, Cookie!”

CoCo playfully shooed her husband away and took her spot in the chair beside their bed to wait for whatever Micah had in store. Her first gift came in a ornate, handmade frame.

“This one is from Noah! It says I love you Mommy.”

Tasha took a look at the rainbow of unintelligible signs and shapes and smiled. “I see the vision. It’s abstract! Thank you, Chunk,” she cooed as she brought Noah up to her lips for a kiss. “What’s next, Mikes?”

“I gots the best gift for you from me. Open it, open it!”

Micah couldn’t stop dancing while she watched Tasha carefully pull apart the ribbon adorning a slender, Tiffany blue box. Tasha fully expected another charm bracelet, but the actual gift was nothing short of confusing.

CoCo looked to Chadwick for answers and received a secretive smile in return.

“What is this baby girl?”

“It’s a magic wand because you’re magic! And it’s glass so that it sparkles.”

The explanation made CoCo melt in her seat. “You think I’m magic?”

“Yeah! You do all the cool stuff like cooking and playing dress up and taking pretty pictures and teaching me how to read. You’re like a fairy!”

“Oh my...I’m gonna cry. Come here, sweetie.”

Micah rushed into her mother’s arms for a huge embrace that seemed to last forever.

“I love it so much, Munchkin. I’ll keep it forever and ever. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Micah exclaimed, unaware of the emotional roller coaster she’d just gifted Tasha.

“Whew, the WATERWORKS. Can you beat that Daddy?”

“Actually,” Chadwick answered, dramatically drawing out the word. “Let’s take a break and eat breakfast. I made you famous brandy French Toast.”

“Mmmm, I-.” Tasha’s face dramatically changed expressions as she watched a steaming hot plate of mush be placed in front of her. “This looks...food-y.”

Chadwick caught the hesitation in her sentence and smiled, “We know it doesn’t look as good as yours, but we know it tastes good.”

“And we’re cute!”

“You guys sure are that. I guess I should dig in?”

“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!” Micah danced and chanted as Tasha attempted to cut through the thickest and, somehow, driest portion of the bread.

All eyes were on her to watch for her reaction. She chewed and chewed...and chewed some more until she had small enough portions to swallow. The sting of potent bourbon nearly made her choke, but she smiled through the reaction.

“Does it taste good, Mommy.”

“Mhmm,” she answered through pursed lips. “Hey, Mikes, Daddy forgot your being me water. Can you bring me a water bottle from the kitchen?”

Micah jumped at the opportunity to be helpful and dashed out of the room. Once she was out of earshot, Tasha’s eyes grew wide.

“Babe, I think I’m drunk! Did you soak it overnight?!

“I may have gone a smidge too hard but the cinnamon flavor is there right?”

“Hell if I know! I can’t taste anything past liquor,” she laughed. The sound drew Noah’s attention and he craned his head around to kiss her lips. “No, no, baby. Can’t have you tipsy at 9 in the morning.”

Chadwick couldn’t help but laugh at his blunder, but chose not to comment. Instead, he chose to take a seat beside her in the bed and pull out the gift hidden in his pocket.

“Since I did less than stellar with your favorite breakfast, I figure I’d give you this to make up for it.”

He presented her with another Tiffany blue box and Tasha immediately knew that was inside. She rushed to pop the top and squealed when she was met with a beautiful diamond with an engraved band.

“Another wedding band? I’m so surprised! I would have never guessed.”

“Yeah right,” Chadwick mumbled. As soon as the words left his lips. Tasha covered them in kisses.

“You the best, babe. I love you.”

“I love you.” A second kiss cake right as a flash of fluffy coils came rushing in to join the rest of the family on the bed. Tasha quickly received the cold bottle before welcoming Micah into her arms.

“I love you all so much. Thank you for being my babies.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Micah affirmed, snuggling closer to CoCo.

The room filled with laughter from wall to wall as they enjoyed time together. Tasha didn’t need flashy gifts and trophies on a holiday to know that she was loved. In her mind, the three versions of her heart was enough to make every day worthwhile.

——

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[lemonerix]

Wrong Letter

Prompt: Mistakes/Canon verse

Word count: 3081

“May I come in, sir?”

A faint “Enter.” came from behind the door, and Howard opened it to find his boss sitting on his desk, signing papers and organizing documents. It wasn’t unusual to see his boss hunched over his paperwork, with a cup of tea on his desk as the air filled with the melody from the old gramophone he owned. The man walked over to his boss, “You summoned me, what can I help you with, sir?” he asked, bowing his head down slightly.

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Arthur’ whenever we’re alone? You’re making me feel much older than I really am.” The blonde man asked his subordinate.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t see it fit for someone like me to call you by your name so casually.”

“Now you’re just making it seem like I’m not human. Well, I’m not really, but you get the point.” Arthur waved his arm around as he spoke. He took a sip from his cup and leaned back on his chair, “Anyway, it seems like I’ll be stuck in this room until evening if I want to get all of this paperwork done by tomorrow. Can you send these letters for me, Howard?” Arthur asked as he handed the man several envelopes with seals on them. He knew what the seals meant, he nodded and took the letters into his hands. “Anything else, sir?” he asked.

“Tell the chef to cook dinner early, and also tell the rest of the household that they may leave early today.” Arthur quickly said to Howard before he left the room.

After heading to the kitchen and telling the staff to head home early, Howard picked up his things from his office and left the house. He made sure to deposit the letters in the letterbox before he headed home. Little did he know, a certain letter to a certain nation wasn’t meant to be sent that afternoon.

.

The pain in his back woke up Arthur from his slumber. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he rubbed the small of his back as he straightened his posture, “Bloody hell, I think I am growing old.” He said to himself as he stood up and stretched his body. He glanced at the clock on his desk and noted that the time was ten minutes after five. The sun was beginning to peek from the hills, birds have begun their songs and a few early risers were on the streets walking their pets or going for their morning jog. England turned off his gramophone, which he accidentally forgot to turn off the previous night, and retrieved the half-full tea cup from his desk. A look of discomfort passed through his face as he sipped the drink before he realized that it had gone cold. Muttering to himself, he went out of his office to re-heat his tea and make himself breakfast (hopefully, without incident).

By some kind of miracle, England made himself breakfast without having to call the fire department again. This was a small victory for him, he sat down on a chair and ate his meal, feeling rather proud of himself. It was Sunday, so he was in no rush because he knew that he had the whole day to himself. Arthur was then reminded of his responsibilities, the papers he had to sign, and of course, “the letter” he wrote to a certain country. A chill ran down his spine, he didn’t recall seeing the envelope containing “that letter” on his desk that morning. He dropped his utensils on the table and swore loudly before dashing to his office.

He swung open the door and immediately searched the top of his desk, then under it, then his drawers. He sat on his chair in exhaustion and panic, then he heard something crinkle beneath him. In his frantic search, he did not notice the small white envelope on his chair. He grabbed it and felt his heart slow down, the panic he felt went away as he sighed in relief.

Thank God.

Yet, there was an itching feeling that he couldn’t shake off. Something compelled him to open the envelope and read the letter in it. He did so and felt his blood run south, “Oh no.” He re-read the contents of the letter to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks with him. He wanted to believe that the letter in his hands was a copy. Oh, how much he wanted to believe that. Arthur buried his face in his hands, muffling his scream of frustration and embarrassment.

The letters he asked Howard to send for him contained the outlines of the subjects to be discussed in the next G8 meeting being held in his country. Seven letters meant for seven countries, and out of the seven, one of those letters wasn’t meant to be sent. Arthur knew he had no one else to blame but himself. He should’ve paid more attention to what he was doing, and if he did, he might have actually sent the right letter. He knew he dug up his own grave, but he wasn’t sure if he could actually face the heartbreak waiting for him. He knew that he could do nothing about it, letters with ‘seals’ are immediately sent to the nation they were addressed to. Feeling defeated, Arthur slumped down on his chair and prayed that America doesn’t check his mail that often.

.

Poor Brit, he does not know that Alfred checks his mail every day because of the many items he orders online.

“Package for…Mr. Alfred Jones?”

Alfred ran towards the door; he opened it and greeted the delivery man on his doorstep. After signing for the package, he picked up the huge box on his porch and said goodbye to the delivery man. After he turned the doorknob, something fluttered to the ground from the top of the package.

“Huh, what’s this?” he muttered to himself as he picked up the envelope with his free arm. It had a ‘seal’ on it, so he suspected that it came from one of the nations. Kicking the door close, he set down the box in his arms and looked for a box cutter.

Alfred completely forgot about his package, he only wondered what the letter contained as he went into the kitchen. He found a box cutter in one of the drawers, then he sat down on his kitchen table. With a blade in his hand, he broke the seal of the envelope. He took out the letter and read it. He felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw who it was from, then his jaw slacked when he read what was written on the paper. “Arthur…” his lips quivered as the name passed through his lips.

Oh, God. If this is some kind of trick, then that’s just cruel.

His face still flush, he sat on table and stared at the paper. He wasn’t sure if what he was reading was true, or if it was just an elaborate prank by England. But he knew that the Englishman wasn’t the type to pull pranks, and he could confirm that the handwriting was his. He read the letter again and felt his face warm up again, his lips twitching into a smile, “This can’t be real.” He said to himself. Alfred didn’t want to believe that Arthur “liked, liked him”, because that would be too good to be true. But there could be a chance that the Brit actually had feelings for him. He drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fell to the words that made his heart beat erratically.

“…I cannot keep on hiding my feelings for you anymore, it’s become so overwhelming. I think I might fancy you, Alfred…”

The letter was filled with extravagant words and metaphors that would’ve made Shakespeare jealous, but those phrases were the only ones that mattered to the American. He couldn’t care less if he could barely understand half the words, all he knew was that Arthur fell for him. And that was enough for him to gather his courage and respond to the island nation’s confession.

With a happy sigh, he looked for a pen and a piece of paper.

.

England waited anxiously for the other nations to arrive; he was especially nervous about America. He paced back and forth the room, occasionally adjusting his tie, and whispering to himself.

Did he receive the letter? Did he read it? God, he probably thinks I’m some sappy old fart right now.

He flinched when the door opened, “Good Morning, England.” Japan greeted as he closed the door behind him. “Good Morning, Japan. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the nation’s designated seat. The Japanese man noticed that England seemed troubled, “Is there something bothering you, Mr. England?” he asked. The other man stopped pacing back and forth, “No! No, there’s nothing wrong. Why do you ask?” England smiled nervously.

“Because…never mind.” Japan decided that he shouldn’t press the other nation. He noted how England exhaled in relief and sit down on his chair. The room was silent for a whole minute until England slammed his hands on the table, slightly scaring Japan. “Mr. England, is there something wrong?” Japan asked, now worried for the other nation. England’s face was flushed red, he didn’t know if he should ask Japan advice. “Mr. England?” The Japanese man slowly rose from his chair, he planned to go closer to the island nation and ask if he was alright but before he could, England blurted out, “Japan, can I ask you a question?”

“Uhm, ye…yes?”

“Wh…what if, hypothetically, I sent a letter with very sensitive information to someone accidentally, and they read it? What do you think their reaction would be?”

Japan blinked as he registered the question, “Well…” he rubbed his chin, “It depends on the type of letter you sent them, and the type of person they are. If you sent them a confession to a crime, they might report you to the authorities or if you sent them a confession of love, they might reciprocate your feelings, or use it as blackmail.” The man stated bluntly. England’s eye twitched, “Ah, I see.” He slumped down his chair and the room suddenly went cold. “E…England-san? Is e…everything alright?” Japan asked, slightly scared at how the room suddenly turned gloomy. “Yes…everything is fine…”

“Bu…but, why does this seem like I did something wrong?” The Japanese man whispered to himself.

“YO, THE HERO’S HERE!” The door burst open as America entered the room. Japan let out an involuntary yelp, “A-America!” England shot up from his seat, his heart racing. America blinked and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Uh, what’s up dudes?” he greeted in a small voice. His eyes were darting everywhere but he refused to look at England. The Englishman cleared his throat, “America, please head to your designated seat while we wait for the others to arrive.” The nation complied and sat in his seat. Japan watched the strange interaction of the two countries. Usually they would be yelling at each other’s faces, but they weren’t. Did something happen between them?

He looked at England who was wringing his fingers on the table, his face was redder than normal and he kept on stealing glances at the American. Then he turned to America, who was drumming his fingers on the table nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his eyes kept on glancing at the English nation’s general direction. Gears were turning in Japan’s mind, he knew that this kind of thing would just happen in a manga, but he wondered if something happened between America and England. Did one of them confess their feelings to the other? Did they get rejected or were the feelings mutual? Japan himself was getting flustered with the ideas going on through his head. He decided that he should play matchmaker as a plan formed in his mind.

Japan shot up from his seat, “Excuse me Mr. England, I must use the restroom! I will return!” He loudly announced and ran out of the room before he could receive any reaction. He knew that it was rude to just leave the two nations alone, but it was the only way he could play matchmaker.

.

The door slammed close as Japan rushed outside, England and America were alone. There was a very awkward silence between them that seemed to last for eternity. The two nations pretended that the other did not exist, making their situation more awkward than it is. Finally, England broke the ice, “It’s not very often that you come early.” America glanced at the other man, who was facing away from him, “Ye…yeah. My flight was early, and I thought that being punctual was a little achievement of mine.” The American chuckled lightly at the end of his sentence. Green eyes gazed at Alfred momentarily before looking back at the grey wall, “That must be delightful.” England replied. They were enveloped in silence once again. America broke the silence this time, “How about you dude? Is being host a bit stressful or something?”

“I guess? I mean, I have been hosting more times than I can count so I don’t really worry much, but there would always be that looming feeling that everything might go wrong.” The Englishman smiled slightly, but it faded away quickly. They attempted to make small talk, but each time they do, it would always end up with awkward silence. The two both knew that they had to address the elephant in the room, wishing that the other would do it for them. England took a deep breath, he knew America was too prideful to admit that he received “the letter”, so he had to make the first move.

“So, Alfred…” he began, “Have you…received any letters recently?”

The question hung in the air for a few moments before America answered, “Nah. I haven’t received any letters, Artie. Why the sudden question, dude?” He tried to keep his voice casual, so that it wasn’t obvious that he was lying. England noticed the tone in America’s voice, “It’s nothing,” He pursed his lips, “Are you sure?” he asked for confirmation. The American nodded and looked away, shoving his hand into his pocket where he kept England’s letter. “I see.” England slightly relaxed in his seat. He managed to save himself from embarrassment, he’s not convinced that America was telling the truth, though. Maybe the American just pitied him, or was planning to blackmail him using his letter. He felt disappointed as well. America didn’t like him like that, he probably doesn’t like him at all.

The door opened to reveal Japan and the rest of the countries involved in the meeting. Japan was hopeful that the two nations had made up, but it seems like he had made matters worse. Both America and England were silent, like they did not even attempt to talk to each other. The Japanese man mentally sighed, maybe he shouldn’t have played matchmaker this time.

.

The meeting ended with success, which was a rare event. Meetings would usually end up with everyone shouting their heads off, and at least one person would be hurled out of the room. The meeting that day ended with no such thing occurring. That was probably because America was unusually quiet throughout the meeting, and England refused to talk unless it was his turn to present. The other nations were unnerved by the unusual behavior of the two nations, but they did not voice it out. Japan on the other hand, thought that he failed as matchmaker and was thinking of other ways to get the two men together.

“It was a wonderful meeting, Mr. England. I look forward to the next one.” Japan bowed his head. England smiled, “Thank you. It was my pleasure being your host.” He told the other man. The other nations said their farewells as they exited the room, one nation lingered a bit longer and dropped something on the floor for the Brit to find, he then rushed out of the room hoping that England didn’t notice him.

England was left alone in the room; it was the host’s job to clean up after all. He stacked the pieces of papers scattered around the table, discarding scraps of paper and placing the chairs back into their positions. As he was finishing, he spotted a piece of paper by the doorway. He groaned and picked it up, he realized that it was an envelope. To his bewilderment, it was the envelope that he had gone to hell and back to look for.

America, that damn bastard was lying to me, I knew it!

He was furious that the American had the letter with him the whole time, not only that, it appeared that he had opened it, which made England’s blood turn cold. “That bastard opened it!” he hissed at no one in particular. The Brit was now fuming with rage and embarrassment, he saw that his letter was still inside the envelope, but there was another piece of paper with it. It was a yellow post-it note stuck on the back of his letter. He took it out and read the note written in black bold letters:

Pick you up at 8? Just call my #, and I’ll make reservations.

A small doodle of America was winking at him at the bottom of the paper. England felt his heart stop, then restart again.

This cannot be real. This is a trap. This has to be a trap.

His mind screamed at him, one part of him was saying that he shouldn’t respond because it was most likely a practical joke, while the other part said that he should call him and celebrate because his feelings were returned. The man was torn with what he should do, should he risk it all and call America? He could feel himself pulling out his phone from his pocket, he gawked at the yellow paper then at his phone.

Should I do it?

He opened his contacts. America’s name was on top of the list.

Should I do it?

He tapped the contact, England’s fingers hovered over the call button.

Should I…?

Tap.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Hey, Iggy…”

[kissjane]

I saw a quote from Stig Dagerman on the dash and it reminded me of one of the most beautiful, gripping, emotional and evocative short stories I ever read in my entire life. It is called Att döda ett barn (To kill a child) and it is about choices and chances and how we are connected even without realizing it and how this second could forever change our lives.

I found a great English translation by Steven Hartman and it is published online, so I don’t feel too bad about copying it below the break.

It only takes a couple of minutes and I promise you, they are worth it.

To Kill a Child

Stig Dagerman, translated by Steven Hartman

It’s a peaceful day as sunlight settles onto the fields of the plain. Soon bells will be ringing, because today is Sunday. Between fields of rye, two children have just come upon a footpath that they have never taken before, and in the three villages along the plain, window panes glisten in the sun. Men shave before mirrors propped on kitchen tables, women hum as they slice up cinnamon bread for the morning meal, and children sit on kitchen floors, buttoning the fronts of their shirts. This is the pleasant morning of an evil day, because on this day a child will be killed in the third village by a cheerful man. Yet the child still sits on the kitchen floor, buttoning his shirt. And the man who is still shaving talks of the day ahead, of their rowing trip down the creek. And still humming, the woman places the freshly cut bread on a blue plate.

No shadows pass over the kitchen, and yet even now the man who will kill the child stands near a red gas pump in the first village. He’s a cheerful man, looking through the view-finder of his camera, framing a shot of a small blue car and a young woman who stands beside it, laughing. As the woman laughs and the man snaps the charming picture, the attendant screws their gas cap on tightly. He tells them it looks like a good day for a drive. The woman gets into the car, and the man who will kill the child pulls out his wallet. He tells the attendant they’re driving to the sea. He says when they reach the sea they’ll rent a boat and row far, far out. Through her open window, the woman in the front seat hears his words. She settles back and closes her eyes. And with her eyes closed she sees the sea and the man sitting beside her in a boat. He’s not an evil man. He’s carefree and cheerful. Before he climbs into the car, he stands for a moment in front of the grille, which gleams in the sun, and he enjoys the mixed aroma of gasoline and lilacs. No shadows fall over the car, and its shiny bumper has no dents, nor is it red with blood.

But as the man in the first village climbs into his car and slams the door shut, just as he is reaching down to pull out the choke, the woman in the third village opens her kitchen cupboard and finds that she has no sugar. The child, who has finished buttoning his shirt and has tied his shoes, kneels on a couch and sees the stream winding between the alders, pictures the black rowboat pulled up into the tall grass of the bank. The man who will lose his child has finished shaving and is just now closing his portable mirror. Coffee cups, cinnamon bread, cream, and flies each have a place on the table. Only the sugar is missing. And so the mother tells her child to run over to the Larssons’ to borrow a little. As the child opens the door, the man calls after him, urging him to hurry, because the boat lies waiting for them on the bank of the creek, and today they will row much, much further than they ever have before. Running through the yard, the child can think of nothing else but the stream and the boat and the fish that jump from the water. And no one whispers to the child that he has only eight minutes to live and that the boat will lie where it is today and for many days to come.

It isn’t far to the Larssons’. It’s only across the road. And just as the child is crossing that road, the small blue car is speeding through the second village. It’s a tiny village, with humble red houses and newly awakened people who sit in their kitchens with raised coffee cups. They look out over their hedges and see the car rush past, a large cloud of dust rising behind it. The car moves fast, and from behind the steering wheel the man catches glimpses of apple trees and newly tarred telephone poles slipping past like gray shadows. Summer breathes through their open windows, and as they rush out of the second village their car hugs the road, riding safely, surely, in the middle. They are alone on this road — so far. It’s a peaceful thing, to drive completely alone on a broad road. And as they move out onto the open plain, that feeling of peace settles deeper. The man is strong and contented, and with his right elbow he can feel the woman’s body. He’s not a bad man. He’s in a hurry to get to the sea. He wouldn’t hurt even the simplest creature, and yet, still, he will soon kill a child. As they rush on towards the third village, the woman again shuts her eyes, pretending those eyes will not open again until they can look on the sea. In time with the car’s gentle swaying, she dreams about the calm, lapping tide, the peaceful, mirrored surface of the water.

Because life is constructed in such a merciless fashion, even one minute before a cheerful man kills a child he can still feel entirely at ease, and only one minute before a woman screams out in horror she can close her eyes and dream of the sea, and during the last minute of that child’s life his parents can sit in a kitchen waiting for sugar, talking casually about the child’s white teeth and the rowing trip they have planned, and that child himself can close a gate and begin to cross a road, holding in his right hand a few cubes of sugar wrapped up in white paper, and for the whole of that minute he can see nothing but a clear stream with big fish and a wide-bottomed boat with silent oars.

Afterward everything is too late. Afterward there is a blue car stopped sideways in the road, and a screaming woman takes her hand from her mouth, and it’s red with blood. Afterward a man opens a car door and tries to stand on his legs, even though he has a pit of horror within him. Afterward a few sugar cubes are strewn meaninglessly about in the blood and gravel, and a child lies motionless on its stomach, its face pressed heavily against the road. Afterward two pale people, who have not yet had their coffee, come running through a gate to see a sight in the road they will never forget. Because it’s not true that time heals all wounds. Time does not heal the wounds of a dead child, and it heals very poorly the pain of a mother who forgot to buy sugar and who sent her child across the road to borrow some. And it heals just as poorly the anguish of a once cheerful man who has killed a child.

Because the man who has killed a child does not go to the sea. The man who has killed a child drives home slowly, in silence. And beside him sits a mute woman with a bandaged hand. And as they drive back through the villages, they do not see even one friendly face—all shadows, everywhere, are very dark. And when they part, it is in the deepest silence. And the man who has killed a child knows that this silence is his enemy, and that he will need years of his life to conquer it by crying out that it wasn’t his fault. But he also knows that this is a lie. And in the fitful dreams of his nights he will try instead to gain back just a single minute of his life, to somehow make that single minute different.

But life is so merciless to the man who has killed a child that everything afterward is too late.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Marry Me

A/N: I decided to take a stab at doing a songfic. It is MontyxOC and I hope you guy’s like it. I based it off of Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me. This part is from the bride’s perspective. For this part, I recommend listening to the bride’s perspective linked below. There will be another part from Monty’s perspective coming soon. This is a long one. I hope you like it as much as I do. As always, much love. Word Count: 7963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqxEYUcW-cU

My fiancé, Evan, and I finally made it to San Fran International Airport, after a long day of traveling from Atlanta. I managed to get some more wedding planning done on the plane from Dallas. My parents were throwing us a second engagement party at home, so we made the trip out early on after he popped the question. Once we had left baggage claim with our bags, I led him through the airport to pickups.

He insisted on holding the bags while I looked for Scott. My parents weren’t able to get off work, so he had kindly offered to pick us up in San Francisco. I searched the crowd and spotted him standing off to the side, near a vending machine. “Scott!” I called as I waved and broke into a run towards him. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around.

“There she is.” He muttered into my hair as he put me down. I felt Evan put his hand on my back and I leaned into him. “You must be the one who stole her heart. I’m Scott.” He said, sticking his hand out.

“Evan.” He replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“So, let’s see the ring.” I smiled brightly at him and showed him my round two carat pave ring. He whistled when he saw it. “That’s nice. It suits you. Did she pick it?”

“No, I looked at her Pinterest.”

“Smart man.” Scott said as he picked up my bag and walked us out to the car, Evan’s hand firmly in mine the whole time.

On the way back into town, Scott shared stories of all the trouble I used to get my friends in and out of in high school. “There was this one time none of us had studied for a midterm coming up and so Ellie here called us all over to her place, and sat us down with colour coded notes, charts, the whole thing and spent the whole weekend tutoring us.”

“Only because you all had to pass that exam to stay on the team.” I interjected.

“El, it’s not like they would have kicked the whole team off the team. We were all pretty antsy by the end of the weekend.”

“But they could have cancelled the rest of your season. How happy would you have been then, hmmm?”

“Fine, fine. You win. But what about that time Monty and Bryce decided to climb in that old treehouse in Bryce’s backyard and you had to call the fire department?”

“You mean the time they almost fell out a tree? Yeah, I remember that. I also remember not speaking to either of them for like three days afterwards.”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot that detail. Monty wouldn’t shut up about it until you finally talked to him again.”

“Not my fault genius one and genius two climbed into a treehouse they hadn’t been in since they were like eighty pounds lighter. Bryce cried, Scott.”

“You didn’t talk to them because they went in a treehouse?” Evan asked.

“No babe. I didn’t talk to them because they got stuck in a treehouse. And I couldn’t climb up there to save their genius butts because any more weight would have sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground. And then Coach would have had my ass for breaking them.”

“I’m guessing there was alcohol involved in these shenanigans?”

“Oh yes.” Scott laughed, “they were drunk off their asses. Monty hugged one of the firefighters.”

“Ellie mentioned something about him not being a hugger.”

“He isn’t. Took him like 4 years to hug me. And I’m his best friend. We had food poisoning together when we were younger, and he still wouldn’t do it.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, but anywho. They barely made it into the pool house before they passed out.”

“We don’t call her Mom for nothing.”

“Okay designated Dad friend.”

“At least when we hung out after homecoming we didn’t-” Scott started. My eyes widened. Are you serious Scott?!

“Trip and fall flat on our faces in front of the whole school?” I cut him off quickly.

He gave me a weird look in the rear view. Thankfully, Evan was looking out the window as we were getting closer to town. I gave him a what the fuck look back. “Uh, yeah. That was pretty funny actually. Matt and Garrison were so excited we won that they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted.”

Evan didn’t appear to be listening anymore. Scott drove the rest of the way and when we got into town, I texted Monty. Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

He texted me back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

“Don’t worry about showing him the noteworthy spots. We are going to look around after church on Sunday.” I mentioned to Scott, not looking up from my phone. I replied to Montgomery swiftly, drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear. I smiled affectionately at the nickname and put my phone away. Scott had pulled up in front of my parent’s house.

“See you tomorrow Scotty.” I told him, reaching around the driver’s seat to rub his hair.

“El, not the hair. I’ll see you. It was nice meeting you Evan.”

“You too, Scott. Have a good night.”

The door opened as soon as we set foot on the front walk and my mom poked her head out. “Hey Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, come here and let me look at you.” She cooed, pulling and prodding me to get a good look.

“Mom, relax. I haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello Mrs. Davis. How are you?” Evan asked her as he pulled me closer to him to stop her examining.

“I’m lovely dear. Robert set up the guest room for you. Ellie, you’ll be in your own room.”

“I know Mom. Wasn’t expecting anything less.”

As we walked into the living room, dad looked up from his newspaper, “hey sweetheart, Evan.” “Mr. Davis.” Evan greeted and shook his hand firmly.

“Now now, what have we told you? You will be family soon enough. It’s Robert or Dad.”

“And Jillian or Mom.” My mom added.

“I know. Habit.”

“Well Ellie-muffin, what did you want to do tonight for your first night back in town?”

“I thought you had to talk to Evan about stuff. And I understood from mom that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I kind of already made plans….”

“That’s right. I told you about it last week Rob. We have to go over stuff for tomorrow.”

Dad thought for a moment, trying to remember the conversation, “that’s right. Sorry Jill, I’ve been busy with work and stuff that it must have slipped my mind.”

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?”

“Just going to get a coffee with Monty now that I’m back in town.” I told him, casually. It’s just coffee and catching up with a friend.

“That sounds like fun. Let him know I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“I will. I’m going to run upstairs and change. You guys have fun down here.”

“What about dinner, Ellie?”

“It’s okay mom, I’ll just grab some soup or something at Monet’s.”

At about twenty to six, I decided to head out. I chose a cute, casual ensemble. I had thrown on one of Monty’s old baseball shirts, that I stole in the ninth grade or something with some jeans and sneakers. It was comfortable and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. Sometimes I wore it to run errands or when I was running late to class in college. “Bye guys. Love you Evan.” I called from the door. My family had holed themselves up in my dad’s office to talk about the party tomorrow, and I had strict instructions not to disturb them. I heard a chorus of ‘bye’s from the house as I left.

I beat Monty to the café but that wasn’t surprising really since I had left so early.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?”

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I heard Monty say behind me. The barista looked at me, unsure if she should ring it in or not. I nodded at her and turned around to face him. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped into his arms for a hug. I did manage to salvage some dignity and not screech in his ear.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said after grunting from the impact.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” I told him, scandalously.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” I paused. You. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.” I’ll just leave out that Peter was the professor.

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.”

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” I replied, sarcastically. When I reached for my cup, he reached for his, and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“In order for it to be a nail biter, our team would actually have to have a chance at winning.” Alex muttered to Clay and me.

“They are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I told him, as I adjusted my bag on our walk from Alex’s locker to mine, where Zach was meeting me before chemistry.

“Maybe they got good over the summer. Didn’t Bryce spend the summer in Greece or something? Relaxing and drinking poolside?”

“I think it was somewhere in Italy, actually.”

“Either way, I don’t think he spent his summer bulking up and practicing for the season.”

“I mean, they have Monty.”

“And? What did he spend his summer doing Ellie?”

“When I wasn’t at camp, we spent the summer together. There was no poolside drinking. When I was at camp he hung out with Scott and did boy stuff. They also worked out a lot.”

“How was camp by the way?” Clay asked.

“It was good. Learned a lot from my campers. They learned a lot from me. Only one incident of blood. It was pretty good.”

We had made it to my locker, and I was arranging my books when I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” I laughed, feeling my whole body shake.

“Never.” He laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach’s voice drifted over to me, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Monty replied, putting me down and shaking his head. I turned my attention back to my other friends.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

Lunch seemed to take forever and a half to arrive. I knew sleeping in would mess with my day. The guys were already at their usual table when I arrived and sat next to Monty, no closer than we usually did. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table. I only rolled my eyes in response.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” Monty told him. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at him.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I didn’t have to look up from my lunch to know he was sporting a displeased face. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I made a show of getting myself ready to pray verbally, but not with intention, “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.”

The boys laughed hysterically around me as I smirked at Bryce.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” I offered but knew he would decline.

I ran home to change after school for the game. “Mom, have you seen my baseball shirt?” I called, searching my room for Monty’s shirt.

“The last I saw it, it was on your dresser.” I dug around on my dresser for a bit until I found it.

“Thanks Mom.” I called, shrugging it on. I quickly fixed my hair and grabbed a sweater before bolting back out the door to meet Alex before the game.

I met him in the school parking lot, at about six. “Hey Lex.”

“Hey El. Clay should be here soon and we can go find a seat.”

“That’s good.” We made small talk for a few minutes before Clay pulled up in one of the Priuses. Pri-i?

“Hey guys. Ready to go watch us get our asses handed to us on the field?”

“Your brother is playing Clay. Have a little faith.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t say he isn’t a good player. But even still. Justin and Monty can’t carry the whole team all night.”

“Scott and Charlie help. Zach is good.”

“Oh goody. Five of forty-seven players are good. That makes me feel so much prouder of them.” Alex joked as we found a decent seat in the middle of the stands at the beginning of the row.

“Well, just think, if we do win tonight, then the team will be too busy celebrating to give anyone a hard time for a few days.”

“Now that you mention celebrating Ellie, if they win are you going to go with Monty after the game?” Clay asked

“I told him I would meet him at Monet’s with the rest of them whether we win or lose.”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on Justin? I don’t really feel like going out with the football team for the evening.”

“No problem. Is everything alright?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits now that he’s doing better and on the team. I don’t think he thought he would get this far.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make sure he sits with us for a bit. See if I can make Monty play nice.”

“See if you can? Ellie. He would jump off a cliff if you asked him to. I don’t like him, but I know he likes you.” Alex argued. Likes me? I mean sure, as his friend. Right? I brushed off the thoughts and where they could lead and have occasionally led in the past.

“He doesn’t really like heights. But I guess you’re right. He’s my best friend.”

“Sure. Best friend.” Alex said, shaking his head. I watched him share a look with Clay.

“I’m going to go grab a water, you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Clay said, his eyes scanning the crowd of arriving students, likely for Ani.

“Nah. Mom sent me with some kind of weird protein thing. It doesn’t taste half bad, so I’ll just have that.” Alex said, shaking a bottle. I nodded and ran down the bleachers to the concession.

After getting a bottle of cold water, I ran back up just before the game started. The teams had just gotten on the field and had lined up. As expected, the game was in our favour most of the first half. I waved at Monty occasionally when he was on the sidelines and he looked over at me. He smiled and waved back. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting. It wasn’t really much of a nail biter as Principal Bolan had promised this morning, but it wasn’t really boring either. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would probably win. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating. As the team filtered off the field, students began leaving. “See you Monday Ellie.” Alex said as we hugged goodbye.

“See you. Have a good weekend guys. I have to go catch up with Monty.”

I spotted him waiting for me by the locker room, gym bag on his shoulder. “Good game.” I said as I walked up to him.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.”

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.”

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

He sighed and was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” Monty called back to him. Bryce waved him off and walked away, leaving us alone.

He turned his back to me, “hop on”, he told me as he bent down slightly. Once I was secure against his body, he began to walk us out to the parking lot. Because he wasn’t paying attention, it was the perfect time to steal his hat. Plucking it off his head, I placed it on mine. It was slightly too big, but I didn’t mind.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.” I smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

He laughed as we arrived at our cars and he set me down. “No, you wouldn’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, calling my bluff. I pushed him lightly and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.”

True to my word, I arrived at Monet’s a few minutes later, Monty’s hat placed firmly on my head. The place was packed with students celebrating the win. I went to the counter and greeted Skye, placing our usual orders and adding whatever Justin usually got. Once placed, I turned to look for a table. Luckily most students knew where Montgomery and I sat so our table was clear. Making a couple of trips, I placed the drinks on the table and pulled out my phone. I texted Justin quickly, hey Justin. I grabbed you a coffee. Feel free to sit with Monty and I when you get here. Don’t worry, he agreed to be nice. He replied with a thumbs up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor next to me startled me. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.” I spoke regally, swiveling my head to show him from multiple angles.

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Monty and I chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He said, standing slightly awkwardly to the side of the table.

“Justin! You made it.” I exclaimed, smiling. Monty shot me a tone it down look. He smiled back at me as I stood and moved next to Monty. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” He charmed, patting the chair next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he called me sweetheart, before sitting down.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin told me, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. Monty was nice to Justin and even laughed a few times at one thing or another he said.

Somewhere along the line of our conversation, our hands drifted towards each other under the table. I felt his hand wrap around mine and I felt my cheeks flame. The flutters were back, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He acted like he hadn’t noticed that we were holding hands. “Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called over to our table. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin waved to him and stood up, taking his coffee with him. I wonder if he noticed we are holding hands. Maybe he’s leaving us alone for a reason. Maybe….

“And then there were two.” Monty spoke, pulling me from my thoughts before they could go any further.

“Then there were two.” I echoed.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.”

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?”

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” I flirted slightly, moving my hair behind my ear.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” He flirted back, leaning in slightly. Oh my goodness. He’s going to kiss me. My thoughts immediately began flashing forward at a rapid pace. Us going for innocent coffee dates. Introducing him to dad as my boyfriend. The possibility of church on Sundays. Introducing him to Pastor Mike. Our first fight. Making up from said fight. Getting accepted to the same college. Graduation. College. A ring. Coming home and getting married in the little white church just out of town. Marriage. Kids. Sitting on our porch when we are old and grey. Before he could kiss me, Bryce called him from across the room. He stopped just short of my lips and looked over at him, “what?”

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. Monty nodded in response and turned back to me. I was smiling at him, trying to hide the fact that I was mildly hurt he stopped short of kissing me. Or that I was annoyed that my mind had gone so far once again. I chuckled and took a drink of my coffee. I looked at my watch and saw that even though it wasn’t necessarily late late, it was late enough that I could get away with leaving on account of the time.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I said, getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I said, trying to keep the hurried tone out of my voice. I just want to get out of here. I took my cup back to the counter and made my way to the door, trying to keep an even pace. I didn’t look back as I left the café.

End Flashback

Shaking the memory from my mind, I pried some more. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

“Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.”

“Exactly.” He laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

He looked surprised at me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.”

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” I said squeezing him in a hug. When we pulled apart he looked down at me, seeming to finally notice my shirt.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” I offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” I smiled at him in response before he hugged me again and we said goodbye.

The next morning was somewhat hectic in the Davis household. My mom was up at a time God himself would shake his head at, doing last minute cleaning. My dad was up shortly after, making sure the yard hadn’t disappeared overnight or something. I woke up around ten and before I could even get a sip of coffee in me, I was already being bombarded with questions about what I was wearing or how I was doing my hair by my mom. Jeez Louise, if the engagement party is like this, what will the wedding day be like? “I have a white dress with flowers I was going to wear. It’s strapless and cute. Dressy enough for a party.”

“Strapless?”

“Yes Mom. It is strapless. I brought a cardigan to wear with it before you have a coronary.”

“Well I suppose that is alright then. And your hair?”

“A simple curled high ponytail. I have an elastic with a bow on it to use. I have thought about this you know.”

“I know dear. It’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? My only daughter is getting married.”

“Very exciting, yes.” I grumbled. “Now will you please let me go get a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t that wait darling? We have so much to do.”

“She will be much more of a help after a coffee Jillian.” Evan spoke from the hall upstairs. “Give her a few minutes to wake up and she will be ready to go, won’t you El?”

“Yes, I will.” I replied, moving towards the kitchen in search of the rich black liquid. Evan came down and grabbed the milk from the fridge to steam for my latte. “Thank you, I appreciate that you did that.” I whispered to him, gratefully.

“Of course, Buttercup.” He muttered into the top of my head and measuring out the perfect amount of milk into the pitcher, before half emptying a packet of Splenda into my mug. I set to work grinding and packing the espresso powder. I enjoyed my latte over my Bible while Evan got ready for the day’s events.

Shortly after I had gotten dressed, the caterers arrived, and it became even more hectic. They were finishing various dishes and trying to make room in the fridge. I watched on from the sidelines and tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. Evan came over to me and placed his arm around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

“You look great too, handsome.” I blushed, placing my arm around his waist too. Finally, around 2:30, the caterers had finished all of the food and set up. Cupcakes had been delivered and were set out on cake stands. Balloons were up and fairy lights lined the crown moulding around the living room. The room looked perfect.

Guests began arriving just before three. Justin and his girlfriend Sasha were the first to arrive. Justin and Jessica had broken up halfway through their first year of college, the strain of long distance becoming too much for them. They were still amicable in social situations though.

“Hey Justin. Hello Sasha. How are you guys?” I greeted them, warmly.

“We are good.” Justin replied, his hand firmly placed in hers.

“Hey guys.” Evan greeted them. The pair waved in acknowledgement.

“Let’s see the ring Ellie.” Sasha gushed. I held out my hand while she examined and fawned over the ring. I caught Evan and Justin share a look. Oh boy. This could get interesting for the man.

We continued greeting guests, accepting congratulations and gifts, and smiling as they arrived. Monty showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” I greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said, pulling me into a quick hug. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. I pulled away and turned towards Evan.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” I motioned. They shook hands.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” Monty replied, almost whistfully.

My mom called me over and I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps not leave the boys alone together. “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes.” I said, pointing him out. “Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

Monty laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.”

I watched as he walked over and greeted Scott, taking a glass of champagne and a cupcake for himself. My mom called me over again and I ran over to see what she wanted. The party went off without a hitch. The only thing that concerned me was the way my eyes sought out Montgomery all afternoon and not my fiancé. Not to mention the all too familiar fluttering in my belly whenever I was near him or made eye contact with him.

**

The day had finally arrived. After a year of meticulous planning, it was finally my wedding day. All of the stress and details and late-night crying had all led up to this one day. The church was beginning to fill with guests. The loving memory sign was placed near the altar. I thought of how my granddad would have been the one to preach the service if he was still with us when I decided on the placement. My bridesmaids had already left the room to line up to walk down the aisle. Evan would be at the altar by now. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

My off-white wedding dress was on, my veil in place on my head, and my makeup and hair looked flawless. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. I shook in the bridal room, waiting for the planner to call for me. You can do this Ellie. I fiddled with my engagement ring for a moment before I heard Melissa knock on the door, “we are ready for you Ellie.” Forcing a big smile on my face, I nodded to her and walked out of the room where my dad was waiting to walk me down the aisle.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” He told me as I handed him my engagement ring for safe keeping and took his arm. The chapel doors opened, and Evan turned to look at me from the altar. I could tell his eyes were wet with unshed tears and when he saw me, he covered his mouth and looked up, trying to hold the tears back. The crowd was standing watching our reactions. My bridesmaids smiles beamed from the altar, brightly. I trained my eyes on him as my dad walked me down the aisle. My dad gave me to Evan and Pastor Mike began the service.

“We are gathered here today, before God and those closest to Ellie and Evan to join them in in celebrating their love and commitment to one another.” He continued speaking, “when Ellie called me to announce her engagement, I was thrilled for her. By the time they got around to coming back to Evergreen County from their home in Atlanta, and they asked me to officiate, I knew my answer would be a resounding yes. Getting to know Evan and see these two together over the last number of months, has opened my eyes to how these two help each other in their journey to seek to know and have a relationship with the Lord. Ellie mentioned early on in planning to me, that her favourite verse in the Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 and expressed the importance of including it on this special day. I would like to read you that verse now.  4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[a] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!”

Pastor Mike continued speaking, but my eyes had begun to scan the crowd. They swept from one side of the church to the other. Near the back on the right side, next to the door, I spotted some of my friends. I saw Scott and Justin, along with Sasha, sitting with Charlie and Zach. Bryce surprised me and RSVP’d yes, even if part of me knew he knew I only invited him out of politeness. He was sitting next to Charlie, sandwiched next to Clay and Alex. As my eyes continued to scan the room, I didn’t see him. When they landed on Scott and I maintained eye contact for a moment, he shrugged, and frowned slightly. He isn’t here. He didn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I turned back to Evan, my hand still resting in his. I made sure to smile so it appeared that I was merely overwhelmed with joy and not feeling my heart be crushed with despair. “Evan Andrew Taylor, do you take Ellie Marie Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” Evan replied, wholeheartedly.

“And do you Ellie Marie Davis, take Evan Andrew Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

I took on last look at the crowd gathered around us and made eye contact with Scott before turning back to Evan, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I spoke quietly, letting go of his hand. I looked back at Scott and nodded to him. He turned to Justin and Zach, as the crowd gasped. I stepped down from the altar and it seemed to kick my friend’s butts into gear.

“Shi-” Scott started before realizing he was in a church. “Shoot.” He amended, quickly. He stood up and met me at the end of the aisle as my friends joined me in running out of the church. To our surprise, Bryce tossed Scott his keys and Zach picked me up to carry me to the car. “Zach drives.” He said, giving me a thumbs up.

We were in Bryce’s car before Scott spoke again, “did that really just happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did.” I was still in shock.

“Why?” Justin asked as we drove away from the church.

“He wasn’t there.” I said simply, staring out the window. “I couldn’t marry Evan knowing that I was in love with someone else. I couldn’t stand up there and say I do to him when I was praying for someone to stand up and object. Or to be up there with me instead.”

The boys were silent for a while as we drove around. Scott was in the front, looking for Montgomery’s car in every lot we passed. Justin was holding my hand tightly, trying his best to soothe me.

“You should know that he was. There.” Zach advised, “he wanted to be, but he couldn’t mess things up for you and he couldn’t sit and watch you get married to someone that wasn’t him.”

I didn’t respond, I merely tried to absorb the information I was being given. He was there. Why didn’t he come and tell me anything? Why didn’t he mess things up? I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrated, alerting me I had a text. It was from Bryce. Monet’s. Your table. I never thought I would see the day where I would honestly thank Bryce Walker and mean it once, let alone twice. “He’s at Monet’s.”

“How do you know?” Zach asked, glancing in the rear view to make a lane change and turn us around.

“Surprisingly, Bryce.” I watched as my friend’s brows all raised. They couldn’t believe it either.

I was silent as Zach drove the rest of the way and parked across the street from the coffee shop. I scanned the building quickly, searching for any sign of him. I spotted him in the window, at our table, just like Bryce had said. Monet’s had become licensed a couple of years back, so they could serve alcohol. Monty was sitting alone, in his black suit, nursing what appeared to be a tall bourbon, neat.  “Go get him El.” Scott encouraged me. I nodded and checked for traffic before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Damning laws at this point, since the street was clear, I half ran across and yanked open the door. The few patrons and baristas looked up and appeared slightly annoyed at the sudden, rude intrusion, before they took note of my attire. White dress, veil, hair and makeup applied. It became clear that I was here on a mission and it wasn’t only coffee or a quick shot of liquid courage. Picking up my dress slightly so I didn’t trip on the stairs, I walked over to his table. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise and full of unspoken questions.

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

He scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from his glass, not looking at me.

“Hey,” I started, reaching for his hand. He looked at my hand and after a pause let me take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

I was quiet while I thought over how to explain my feelings. Noticing he had about fingers width of bourbon left in his glass, I grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” He protested. That was all the courage I needed.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” I told him while I stared into the bottom of the now empty glass, too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You- really? How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.”

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.”

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

He chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

I furrowed my brow at him, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?”

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.”

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” I told him, sighing dramatically.

He looked at me through his impossibly long eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” I rolled my eyes and stood up to go order him another shot. You owe me another shot… men. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist to stop me, before pulling me into his lap, rather gracefully given the fit of my dress, and kissing me deeply. Monty pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other. 

“How about that shot now?” Monty smirked.

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Dark Desire [Chapter Four]

Billy Hargrove x Reader x Steve Harrington

Warning: Language

This is 16.5 pages long. Forgive me. 

Tagged: @justgrits​  @fandomfaery​  @billysgodcomplex​  @asheseiler​  @charmed-asylum​

Ch. 01  Ch. 02  Ch. 03

                                   xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Can we go to lunch afterward?” El asked. 

“Sure, where do you want to go?” You asked as the two of you walked down the street towards the police station. 

“I’m craving waffles,” El grinned. 

“Of course, you are,” You laughed pulling open the door. 

The two of you entered the police station. El followed behind you as you headed over to Callahan’s desk. 

“Alright, jerkwad, give me my car back,” You said. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Y/n. El,” Callahan said. 

“Jerkwad,” El echoed her aunt. 

You smirked at your niece. El beamed up at you. It was scary how much she was like you. Callahan cleared his throat drawing your attention back to him. 

“Well, before I can just hand over the keys, I need to have you fill out some paperwork,” Callahan said handing over the clipboard. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You groaned. 

“Rules are rules, Y/n, just because the Chief is your brother doesn’t mean you can get out of it,” Callahan said. 

You yanked the clipboard out of his hand. El followed you as you headed over to the counter. The two of you leaned against it as you started to go through the pages attached to the clipboard. 

“You know he isn’t looking, I could just swipe the keys,” El offered. 

You laughed. “Now, that would be a very exciting start to our day, but my brother is already mad enough at me,” 

El sighed. 

Outside, Billy was driving downtown. Max was in the backseat oblivious to the world around her while jammed out to her phone. Steve sat in the front seat staring out the window. Billy noted the way he perked up in the seat. 

“You okay?” Billy asked. 

“That’s Y/n’s car,” Steve said. 

Billy didn’t even think twice. He yanked the wheel cutting off a car so he could pull up to the curb behind Y/n’s car. Steve whipped around to look at him. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked. 

“I’d like to meet this Y/n of yours,” Billy grinned. 

“At the police station?” Steve pointed out. 

Billy winked. “What better place?”

Steve groaned as Billy climbed out of the car. He looked back at Max her eyes were wide with confusion. Steve and Max acted quickly, climbing out of the car and dashing after Billy as he sauntered towards the front of the station. 

“Give me my keys,” You growled. 

“Just a few more things,” Callahan said. 

You reached across the desk and grabbed Callahan by his tie. You yanked him forward until the two of you were nose to nose. 

“Stop stringing me along, Callahan before I turn this whole precinct upside down and end up giving your badge to El to use for Halloween,” You snarled. 

“God, you and your brother spookily too much alike,” Callahan sighed as he held out your keys. 

“Thanks,” You grinned plucking the keys from him. 

Letting go of Callahan you stood. Callahan stood as well to walk the two of you out to the main lobby. 

“Just listen to your brother and these things wouldn’t happen,” Callahan said. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Maybe my brother needs to mind his own business,”

“You know he’s just looking out for you,” Callahan said. 

“Do you ever struggle to breathe?” You asked him. 

“What do you mean?” Callahan replied. 

“Well, with you being so far up my brother’s ass I thought maybe it was hard to breathe,” You shot back. 

There was a sudden burst of laughter. The three of you looked over to the doorway. Your face softened at the sight of Steve standing there. He was standing with a dark blonde haired guy and a girl around El’s age with flaming red hair. 

“Steve?” You said in confusion. 

“Hey, Y/n, we saw your car outside. I just wanted to make sure you were getting your car back,” Steve said. 

You and El tossed Callahan a look. 

“Callahan was just walking us out,” You said. 

Callahan looked nervously between all of you. 

“Steve, don’t be rude, who’s your friend here?” The blonde-haired guy asked. 

“You know, Y/n, I actually forgot a few things,” Callahan interrupted. 

“Take it up with Jim,” You scoffed, you turned back towards Steve and his friends. “Sorry,”

“This is my little family. My best friend Billy Hargrove and his sister Max,” Steve introduced. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Billy grinned. “Steve has talked so highly of you,”

You took his hand. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. You couldn’t help but giggle. He moved onto El where he did the same thing. 

“Y/n,” Callahan interrupted. 

“Callahan!” Florence shouted. “Leave that poor girl alone. You have plenty of things to do to keep yourself busy,” 

You looked over your shoulder at Flo. You mouthed a thank you and she winked at you before heading back towards the bullpen. You returned your attention to Steve, Billy, and Max. 

“Billy Hargrove?” You questioned. 

Steve and Billy looked at you with wide eyes. 

“Your friend from private school?” You asked once everything started to come back to you. 

Steve and Billy released a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. 

“Yeah,” The two of them smiled together. 

“Y/n, I’m hungry,” El interrupted tugging on your sleeve. 

“Sorry, I promised monkey I’d take her out for waffles,” You said apologizing for your niece’s rudeness. 

“Well, why don’t you come with us to Millies?” Steve asked. “Since we didn’t get to go out last night it will be my treat,”

“Oh, we couldn’t intrude on your guys’ family time,” You began. 

“Yes, we can,” El said cutting you off. 

Billy and Max laughed. They sounded so much alike it was crazy. 

“See Y/n, you’re outvoted. You’re coming along with us,” Steve said. 

“Alright, we’ll meet you guys down there,” You said. 

“Great, Max let’s go,” Billy said. 

Steve stayed back and walked the two of you out to your car. He opened the passenger door for El. She smiled her thanks to him before popping in and he shut the door behind her. Steve walked around to the other side of the car with you. 

“I hope you don’t find it weird that we stopped in to see you,” Steve said. 

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, not at all. I’m glad I got to meet your little family. Max is darling and Billy, well, he seems to be like a charmer,” 

Steve tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s what everybody likes to say about Billy,”

You tilted your head to the side. “Do you disagree?”

“Absolutely, but in a good way,” Steve teased. 

You shot him a look. “Let’s just say you have nothing to worry about,”

“Right,” You sighed. 

Steve opened the door for you. “Don’t tuck tail and run,”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Now why would I go and do that? You’re the one that likes to run away,”

Steve deserved that little ding. “Alright, fair play,”

Smirking, you climbed into your car. Steve shut the door for you before heading to Billy’s car. El watched you with careful eyes as you buckled. 

“Why are you staring at me?” You asked her. 

“So, this will be interesting,” El grinned. 

“This is all your fault,” You said. 

“Oh come on, this is going to be great,” El countered. 

You shot her a look before pulling away from the curb. You followed Billy’s pristine car down a few miles until you reached Millies. You parked a few spots down. You sat there for a second. El watched you carefully. 

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay,” El said. 

“Yeah, of course, I know,” You lied. 

El reached over to take your hand in hers. “I’m right here and we can leave whenever, okay?”

“Right, let’s go,” You said. 

The two of you climbed out of the car and made your way over to where the three of them were standing. The five of you entered Millies where Billy leads the group the back corner to the last table. You, El, and Max sat opposite of Steve and Billy. 

Jane, your waitress, who was also the owner of Millies walked over to the table with a smile plastered on her face. 

“Y/n. El. It’s so nice to see my two favorite girls again,” Jane grinned. 

“Hi, Jane,” You and El echoed in unison. 

“I see that you brought some guests this time,” Jane said. 

“You remember Steve Harrington?” You said. 

“Why, Steve I didn’t even recognize you,” Jane gasped. 

“Hey, Jane,” Steve smiled standing up to give the older woman a hug. 

“I didn’t know you came back home,” Jane said. 

“It’s been only about a week,” Steve replied. 

“And it took you this long to find your way back here?” Jane asked. 

Steve laughed. 

“Right, so what can I start you guys off to drink?” Jane asked. 

Billy, Steve, and Max gave Jane their order. 

“Lemonade for monkey and hot tea for Y/n,” Jane said without looking up from her pad. 

“You know it,” El said. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jane said. 

Billy’s blue eyes sparkled as he turned to look at you. “You two come here often?”

“Every Sunday for breakfast and a couple of times during the week,” El answered. 

“It’s our favorite go-to place. Steve and I used to hang out here on the weekends with our friends. Then once El came around it became our place,” You explained. 

“Do they still have the few arcade games in the back?” Steve asked. 

“Yep, including my high score on Street Fighter,” You said with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

“You like arcade games?” Max asked in surprise. 

“Y/n loves all the games. She has a few of the high scores at the arcade place too,” El pointed out. 

“Wait, are you Queen B on Galaga, Space Invaders, Pac-Man, and Asteroids?” Max asked. 

You laughed. 

“That’s her!” El exclaimed. 

“Okay, your aunt is like a living legend in the arcade world,” Max said in disbelief. 

“You should see her collection at her place. It’s sick,” El said. 

El and Max quickly fell deep into conversation. Jane came back over to drop off their drinks and to take the rest of their orders. Max and El ordered breakfast while the adults ordered lunch. 

“So, Y/n, Steve tells me that you own your own flower shop,” Billy started. 

“I do. It sits down on Main St nuzzled between Frankie’s Bakery and Willow’s bookshop,” You told him. 

“Were you always interested in owning your own shop?” Billy asked. 

“I can answer that. I remember you always wanting to be an English professor,” Steve piped in. 

“That’s what she went to school for,” El interrupted. 

“You did?” Steve said in confusion. 

“Then why are you not a professor?” Billy asked. 

“Because my dad is a jerk,” El said slamming down her glass of lemonade. 

“Eleven!” You growled. 

“I’m just being honest,” El said under her breath. 

You shot your niece a look. “Honestly, it made more sense to stay here and work. Jim needs me around here and after El’s mom died it was easier on all of us. So I opened up my flower shop,”

Billy and Steve glanced at each other. 

“More like Y/n keeps sacrificing things for my dad and me,” El said. 

“You know Eleven, I’ve had enough of the attitude,” You snapped. 

“Well, you don’t listen to me. Or Jonathon and Nancy. So maybe you’ll listen to your good ole pal from childhood, Steve. She gives up everything for my dad and I. Y/n gave up her dream job so she could live here in Hawkins and be at my dad’s beck and call. Whenever he needs a sitter, she’s always a call away. I have my own bedroom at her place because I end up staying there more than with my dad,”

“Y/n comes over and cleans our house, does our laundry, does the majority of the grocery shopping and cooking. I love my dad, but my Auntie has to give up all of her hopes and dreams because my dad is too afraid to do stuff on his own or to ask somebody else for help,” El explained. 

“That’s enough, El,” you said. 

“Take today, for example, it was supposed to be my dad’s day off. He and I were supposed to have a daddy/daughter day together, but as you can see that he once again chose work and Y/n had to rearrange her plans so she could take care of me,” El said. 

“What El is forgetting to mention,” You interrupted your niece before she could go on a full tyrant rant about her dad. 

“Is that I chose a lot of the choices I made. I saw what the death of my sister-in-law did to him. But most of my sacrifices aren’t for my brother they are for El. I want her to have the life that I didn’t really get to have. Sometimes, giving up your dreams for your family has to happen. And if I had to make all of those choices all over again, I would,” You explained. 

“That’s the point you shouldn’t have to,” El sighed. 

“El mentioned something about giving up your dream job?” Steve asked. 

“I was offered one of the English positions at Harvard,” You answered. 

Steve’s mouth fell open. Billy elbowed him and he quickly shut his mouth. 

“Y/n, can I ask why you’ve never fought for legal custody of El and moved? You could have taken her anywhere and got a good enough job to support both of you,” Billy asked. 

“I couldn’t do that to my brother,” You lied. 

“No, she’s lying. She never thought about that because why would she put herself first?” El shot back. 

Jane came back and filled the table with the food. She could sense the negativity at the table, she asked if there was anything else that the table needed before running off. 

Billy looked down at El. “You hold a lot of anger and resentment towards your dad,”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s fair that Y/n has to give up everything. She’s not even my mom,” El huffed. 

The table fell quiet. All eyes were on Y/n. You pushed away from the table. 

“I need some fresh air,” You said. 

El’s eyes widened. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that!”

You ruffled her hair, but still turned away from the table and quickly fled the diner. Steve began to stand up, but Billy put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me take this one,” Billy said. 

Steve nodded and sat back down. El sighed and dropped her head in her hand. 

“It’s okay, El,” Max said softly. 

“I hurt her feelings,” El grumbled. 

“I think Y/n loves you so much and wants the best for you,” Steve said. 

El looked up at her. “I didn’t really mean anything by it,” 

“I know, it will be okay,” Steve said. 

Max leaned over to pat her new friend on the back. Billy had weaved his way through the diner. Outside, he pulled his jacket a little closer as he looked around for Y/n. He found her sitting on the curb not too far from her car. Billy tucked his hands into his pockets as he made his way down to her. 

“You okay?” Billy asked. 

You didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder at him. 

“Yeah, I just needed to cool off,” You replied. 

Billy sat down beside you. 

“I get it,” Billy said. 

You finally looked over at him. “Get what?” 

“Max is my kid sister. So I get it. You’re not the biological parent, but a parent in your own right. It’s hard,” Billy said. 

“Can I ask what happened to your parents?” You asked him. 

“My dad was a drunk. A mean one. He got what he had coming to him. Max’s mom, it was a car accident,” Billy said. 

“Because of your dad?” You asked. 

Billy nodded. 

“How long have you been on your own taking care of Max?” You said. 

“Not too long after Steve and I left here,” He told you. 

“She seems like a great girl for being raised by two rough and tough men,” You pointed out. 

Billy laughed. 

“Steve and I have done our best,” Billy said. 

“Thanks for coming out here. You didn’t have to,” You told him. 

“I know, but I figured since I kind of understand what you’re going through I’d check on you,”

“So where’s your mom?” You asked. 

“Hmm,” Billy hummed. 

“Well, you said Max’s mom so I was just curious what happened to your mom?” You said. 

“Oh, she left my dad and me a long time ago,” Billy answered. 

“Oh,” You said. 

“Don’t worry, I’m over it,” Billy smiled. 

You sighed as you ran a hand through your hair. 

“Come on, we better get back in there before Steve thinks I ran off with his favorite girl,” Billy teased. 

You couldn’t help, but smile. Billy easily jumped up to his feet and then helped you up. He hooked your arm around his and then lead you back into the diner. You dropped back down next to El. She looked up at you with her big brown eyes. Hooking an arm around her neck you pulled her in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

Steve smiled at you and then you all started to dig into your food. Max and El kept up the conversation. The girls compared their school schedules and discovered they had every class together. 

When the bill came you remembered that Steve had said it was his treat, but you still reached for the bill. Steve and Billy both slapped your hand away. You glared at them both. 

“I told you my treat,” Steve said. 

You rolled your eyes. Steve slid in a few hundred bills under the bill and then placed it off to the side. When Jane came back to collect the bill Steve told her to keep the change. Jane squealed in delight when she realized the kind of tip she had just received. 

“So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” Billy asked. 

“The museum is on our list for this afternoon,” You said. 

“There’s a vintage arcade/video game museum a few towns over that is here for the weekend. So we’re heading there this afternoon,” El said. 

Max’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Did you want to come?” You asked her. 

Max whipped her head over to look at her brother and Steve. 

“Why don’t we make this a thing. Steve and Max can go with you guys. It will be good for the girls to keep bonding and it will give you guys some alone time,” Billy suggested. 

“What about you?” You asked. 

“I have some business meetings I need to attend to,” Billy said. 

“If Steve has work to do I can just take Max,” You began. 

“No, Steve can go and enjoy the day with his girls. I’ll handle business for today,” Billy said with a smile. 

“Sounds like a plan!” El grinned. 

You smiled. “I guess we better get going,”

Billy walked out with you guys. Steve and Billy opened the doors to your car so all of you could climb inside. The three of you talked excitedly about the day while Steve and Billy exchanged words outside. 

“What are you up to?” Steve asked. 

“It’s time I introduce myself to Chief Hopper and it will be easier if Y/n and El aren’t around,” Billy said. 

Steve smiled and let out a soft chuckle. “Got it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep them far away from Hawkins,”

Billy squeezed Steve’s hand. “I’ll see you tonight,”

Steve sent him a wink and then climbed into your car. Billy stood there smiling and waving. He watched your car disappear into the distance before he went over to his own car and headed back to the police station. 

Billy drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel as he parked in front of the station. Climbing out of the car he pushed his hair out of his face before heading inside. Just his luck Callahan was at the front desk. 

“Callahan, just the man I was looking for,” Billy said. 

Callahan looked up from the computer. His face paled. 

“What can I help you with?” Callahan forced himself to ask. 

“I know Hopper is your boss but if you’re smart you’ll stay clear from Y/n,” Billy warned. 

“I’m only doing my job,” Callahan gulped. 

“You really don’t want to get in mine and Steve’s way,” Billy informed him. 

“Hey, we are trying to keep her safe from people like you,” Callahan snapped. 

Billy chuckled and then leaned against the desk. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about me, Callahan. You seem to be the smart type. If I were you, I'd do what I’m telling you,” Billy said. 

“Billy Hargrove. I was wondering when I was going to see your ugly mug up close and personal,” Hopper said from behind him. 

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed away from the desk and turned around. 

“Chief Hopper, it’s so nice to finally see you,” Billy grinned. 

“What are you doing here, Hargrove?” Hopper asked. 

“Just having a little conversation with Callahan here about your baby sister,” Billy said. 

Hopper’s face twitched. 

“You need to stay away from my sister,” Hopper snarled. 

“See, I was just telling Callahan the same thing. The two of you abusing your power as a police officer is quite disgusting,” Billy smirked. 

Hopper had to keep himself from crushing the coffee cup he held in his hand. 

“I don’t know what your play is here, Hargrove, but you and that Harrington kid aren’t going to involve my sister or my daughter,” Hopper growled 

Billy walked over to Hopper. “You’re a little too late for that, Hop,”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hopper asked between clenched teeth. 

“Well, after we left here earlier today we had a nice brunch at Millies. Currently, Y/n and El are with Steve and my sister heading out to spend the day together,” Billy said. 

Hopper’s hand began to shake in anger. 

“Callahan, call my sister and if she doesn’t answer start tracking her location,” Hopper ordered. 

“Oh, you can’t track her,” Billy said. 

“Why?” Hopper asked. 

“Because when Y/n and El weren’t paying attention I swiped their phones so they could enjoy the day away from you,” Billy said pulling their phones out of his jean jacket. 

“You’re really pushing your luck here,” Hopper warned. 

Billy smiled from ear to ear. 

“Hargrove, I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face,” Hopper said. 

“Good, swing first, please,” Billy taunted. 

“Boss,” Callahan said in a warning tone. 

“This isn’t going to end well for you,” Hopper said. 

“No, this isn’t going to end well for you, Chief. You have no idea who you are messing with,” Billy said. 

Flo came out of the small break room. She stopped when she noticed all three men staring at each other. 

“Do we have a problem?” Flo asked. 

“No, ma’am, I’m just heading out,” Billy said. 

Hopper watched as Billy walked out of the police station with a smile on his face. 

“Callahan, my office, now,” Hopper growled. 

“Jim,” Flo said. 

“I need a minute,” Hopper snarled. 

Callahan just barely made it into his office before Hopper slammed the door. Callahan jumped but then turned to look at his boss. 

“What’s our next step?” Callahan asked. 

“Firstly, we need to find my sister and my daughter, now,” Hopper said. 

“I’m on it,” Callahan said before scrambling out of the office. 

Hopper sat down in his chair behind his desk and let out a sigh. He hated that he had to admit, but he had met his match in Billy and Steve. He had no idea how he was going to be able to stop them plus protect Y/n and El. As of right now, Hopper needed a miracle. 

Down the road, on the edge of town, a black SUV pulled outside of the hotel. The door opened and a tall figure stepped out of the vehicle. They adjusted their coat and smoothed out their suit. They looked around with a soft smile on their face.

It had been so long since they had this much fun hunting somebody down. He had been hot on Billy and Steve’s trail for months. He never thought that they would be dumb enough to come back to Hawkins. But here he was. And now he was so close to catching them that he could taste that sweet sweet victory. 

[i-am-the-hero-alfred-jones]

Fairy Tail’s Fairy Tale’s Chapter 1

((This is my contribution to the Fairy Tail big bang by @ft-ez-bb​ ! I hope you guys enjoy it! Please comment/reblog/ect. I’ll be putting up a new chapter every day until the 27th.))

WENDY'S BIRTHDAY

Wendy awoke with a smile on her face, and in her heart. After all, how could she not be happy? It was her birthday, and Chelia and Lyon had come all the way from Lamia Scale to spend it with her! Which brought up a troubling fact, her bed seemed a lot more empty than the night before. Where was Chelia? The house only had one guest room, and they had decided to give it to Lyon, since he was a boy. Wendy threw her legs over the edge of the bed and hummed in thought. Carla wasn't in her bed on the opposite side of the room either. Where was everyone? 

The crashing and bickering from downstairs quickly answered her question. "I'm an ice mage! We deal with cold, not heat! Did you honestly expect me to be good in the kitchen?!" "Oops! Lyon! I accidentally started another fire!" "Quiet! You'll wake the child!" At the smell of smoke, Wendy decided she should probably get down there. She walked into the kitchen to see all three bickering around the oven, Carla was in her human form. 

"Uhm. . . Is everything alright?" Wendy asked politely. The group turned around, looking slightly panicked. "Wendy!" Chelia raced over to hug her friend. Wendy laughed and happily hugged back. "Happy Birthday!" "Thank you!" "We tried to make you breakfast but. . . um. . ." Chelia glanced over at the charred, strangely shiny remains of what had been eggs. ". . . It didn't go well.  . . " Wendy just smiled, "It's okay, we can go out to breakfast." she assured. "Oh! I wanna give you your present!" Chelia eagerly pulled Wendy towards the living room. 

Carla turned to the ice mage disappointingly once the girls had gone. "Honestly, Lyon! You're an adult! And you can't even cook?" "I can cook just fine!" Lyon snapped. "Tell that to the frozen eggs." Carla countered, gesturing to the frozen pan. "Oh, forgive me!" Lyon replied, sarcastically, "Next time I'll just let the fire keep going and burn your house down." Carla sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "I just hope the guild does better than you." Lyon had to laugh at that, "You think those fools remembered Wendy's birthday?" Carla gasped, "How dare you! The members of Fairy Tail utterly adore Wendy! They would never do anything to hurt her!" "Yeah, but they're idiots." Lyon stated. It wasn't an insult, it was a fact. ". . . Oh dear. . ." Carla murmured. Lyon had a point. ". . . They're definitely not the brightest . . . What if they did forget her birthday?" The exceed exclaimed, worriedly, "Oh! she'll be crushed! I can't let this happen. You have to stall her." Carla decided. Lyon was bewildered.

"Me?! What am I supposed to do?!" "Take her out to breakfast and open gifts. She received her gift from me last night and will no doubt want to show it to you. I'll go ahead to the guild and make sure she is not forgotten!" Carla shifted into her cat-like form and flew off without another word, leaving a very panicked Lyon in her wake. ". . . I am so screwed. . " he breathed.  ----- Carla was breathless by the time she arrived at the guild. She threw open the doors and glanced around worriedly. The wizards and witches of Fairy Tail were lazing around as if it were any ordinary Sunday afternoon. 

"No!" Carla shouted out loud. She put her head in her paws as the guild glanced towards her curiously. "What's wrong, Carla?" Happy asked, worriedly, as he approached. He didn't like it when Carla was sad. "You all forgot!" Carla wailed, looking back at the guild in misery. "We didn't forget nothing!" Natsu yelled angrily. He leaned towards his teammate, "Lucy, what'd we forget?" She sighed in reply. "Lyon was right . . ." Carla groaned. "Lyon?" Gray asked, "What are you talking to that jerk for?" "This is absolutely unacceptable!" Carla exclaimed, glaring at the guild, "Wendy is a part of your family! I cant' believe all of you would forget such an important day for her!" "What? Tuesday?" Gajeel asked from his place, with his arm around Levy. The woman stared up at the man she had chosen to be with in awe, ". . . It's Sunday Gajeel." The slayer scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Whatever. . ." "It's her birthday!" Carla exclaimed. "Who's birthday?" Jet asked. "Wendy's birthday you imbeciles!!!!" The guild fell silent at that. ". . . Oh shit . . . ."  "Didn't anyone remember?!" Carla exclaimed desperately. There was the sound of a throat clearing from the back of the room and everyone glanced over. "I thought this might happen and planned accordingly." Freed explained, smiling, "As you can see, I"ve provided both a gift and a banner." he gestured to the counter, where two presents and a rolled up banner sat, "The second gift is from Mystogan." he explained. Carla sighed, "At least one of you remembered. The rest of you better come up with something fast, because Wendy will be crushed if she learns you forgot her birthday." "I could put on a show for her?" Gajeel offered, rubbing the back of his neck. "No one wants that for they're birthday!" Natsu yelled from across the room. "Shut up Ash-for-brains, you wouldn't know talent if it bit you on the ass!" "I know it's not you!" ". . . Actually. . ." Carla mused, "A performance could work. . ." "Really?" Levy asked, surprised. "Really?" Gajeel asked, just as surprised. "Indeed, my present to Wendy was a book of Fairy Tales, and she was quite happy to receive it, Perhaps we could act out these stories in the form of a play, letting Wendy choose the cast and narrate." "That's a great idea, Carla!" Levy praised. Carla smiled, "Perfect! Now we have to get the stage and banner set up before she gets here." The guild members rushed to set everything up for their little sky dragon slayer.  --------  Wendy smiled as she entered the guild. Everyone was bustling about. Lyon chuckled at the view. "Never a dull moment around here." He lit up as he saw a beautiful figure from afar. "Oh, Wendy? Would you mind if I. . ." "You can go talk to Juvia." Wendy answered Lyon's question before he even finished it. "Thank you!" Lyon dashed off. The girls giggled as they heard Lyon get berated by his childhood friend. "Do you think he's ever going to give up on her?" Chelia asked, curiously. "Maybe after she marries Gray." Wendy joked. The girls laughed again. It was around this time Wendy finally spotted  her exceed, whom she approached curiously. 

"Carla, what's going on?" Carla gasped and whirled around at the voice. "Wendy! You're here!" the exceed paused for a long moment while the girls stared at her in confusion. Carla sighed and spoke louder, "Wendy's here!!!" The guild members whirled around to look at Wendy. They quickly took up the cry of "Happy Birthday!" Which Wendy beamed at. "Thanks so much everyone! I'm surprised you all remembered." The Fairy Tail guild fell completely silent for the second time in history, as everyone glanced away guiltily, while Wendy looked on in confusion. "Of course they remembered!" Chelia exclaimed, "They love you! So what'd you all get her?!" "Chelia, that's rude." Lyon scolded, lightly. "And you stealing my guild mate isn't?!" "This isn't about you, Gray!" The two returned to their bickering. "Our gift is a performance Wendy." Carla explained. "Really?!" Wendy lit up, but glanced around shyly, "Oh, I hope you didn't go through any trouble for me. . ." "Oh, hush, child." Carla scolded, "It was no trouble at all." 

Carla sat Wendy down at a table in front of the stage. "Did you bring the book I got you?" "Mm-hmm!" Wendy nodded and eagerly brought it out. "We are going to put on the Fairy Tales for you." Carla said, smiling as Wendy grew excited, "You may choose the story and who plays what part." "That sounds like so much fun!" Wendy cheered. "Then let's not dilly dally, let's get straight to it." Carla said. "Oh, there's so many stories- I don't even know where to start!" Wendy admitted, shyly. "Then let's start at the beginning." Carla suggested, "What's the first story?" "Um. . . Puss In Boots." Wendy said, turning pages to find the first story. "Who will play what part?" Carla asked. "Hmm. . . " Wendy thought for a long moment, "Well, Puss In Boots is about a clever cat that defeats an ogre and helps his master get a wife-Lily can do it!" "Lily can do what?" Pantherlily asked, looking up from his kiwi breakfast. "You can play Puss from Puss in Boots! Uh. . . if you want to. . ." Wendy added, shyly. Lily smiled, "I would love to." Gajeel stood. "Where are you going?" Levy asked. "No one's being my Lily's master but me!" he replied, sternly. Wendy giggled, "Okay. And Levy can be the princess! We need an ogre and a king!" "Makarov could be king." Mirajane suggested. The old man sighed, "I'm not as young as I used to be, but I'll give it a try." Mirajane gave her brother a look and he sighed, "I'll be the ogre." "Yay!" Wendy cheered. The group glanced over Wendy's shoulder and quickly re-read the story. "I can easily provide costumes." Erza assured, leading the group backstage  while Wendy began the first story. 

PUSS IN BOOTS 

Wendy began to narrate eagerly. "Once upon a time there was an old miller. When he died, he had three sons." Gajeel walked onto the stage. "To the first, he gave the mill." "Alright!" Gajeel said grinning. "That's not you." Wendy explained. ". . .Huh?" "That's your brother." Wendy told him. ". . .Oh. . ." She continued, "The second son got the donkey." "Not bad!" Gajeel grinned again. "That's also not you." Wendy informed him. "Then what did I get?!" Gajeel complained. "The cat." "The cat?! My brothers get a business and a donkey and I get a damn cat?!" Gajeel asked, angrily. "The cat is Lily." Wendy offered. "Best present ever!" Gajeel hugged his exceed happily.  

"But the miller's son had a problem. What was he to do with a cat? But the cat assured him that he would be fine." Wendy continued. Lily wormed his way out of Gajeel's grasp and turned to him, "Listen, all I need is a pair of boots and some hunting gear, and I'll make you rich." he promised. Gajeel looked skeptical, but shrugged, "I don't really believe you, but I'm desperate, so what the hell?"  "The cat got his boots and spent the next few months hunting to take care of his master." Wendy continued, "But every few weeks, the cat would go visit the king." Makarov sat in a  fine throne onstage. Lily walked up, holding a bowl of fruit up to him, "A gift from the Lord of. . . the Iron Hills." "Tell your master that I thank him for the gifts." Makarov replied. Lily bowed and both of them scurried offstage. 

"One day, when the cat knew the king was going to be out in the village, he brought his master to a lake." Wendy said. Gajeel followed Lily back out onto the stage. "I'm doing what?"  the slayer asked. "Strip and get in the lake." Lily gestured to a large barrel that was serving as their lake. "Why?!" Gajeel exclaimed. "Just trust me. I have a plan." Lily assured. Gajeel sighed and climbed into the barrel. They had decided to leave the stripping out, since there were children in the room.  

“While he was bathing, the king walked by with his daughter." Wendy continued. "Help! The Lord of the Iron Hills is drowning!!!" Lily exclaimed. Makarov rushed over and pulled Gajeel out of the 'lake'. "His clothes were stolen by a thief!" Lily explained. "You will have some of my robes then." Makarov said. Erza used her magic to give Gajeel fine clothes. "I remember you from the gifts your cat has given me. Now walk with me." Makarov walked offstage, Levy and Gajeel followed. 

"The cat ran ahead and told everyone he met to say that the land they were working on belonged to the Lord of the Iron Hills." Wendy continued, "And went to the nearest castle, which happened to be owned by an ogre." Elfman walked onstage and Lily walked up to him and bowed, "Dear Sir, I have been told that you can turn into anything." "I can!" Elfman confirmed, cockily. "Can you turn into a giant monster?" Lily asked. "Of course I can!" Elfman changed into a large creature and Lily yelped and hid behind the nearest object- which happened to be the barrel/lake. Elfman laughed as he changed back into a human. 

"Hmm. . . not bad." Lily admitted, creeping out from his hiding place, "But can you turn into something small, like a mouse?" "With ease!" Elfman flexed and Wendy turned to the guild, "When the ogre turned into a mouse- the cat ate him!" The duo raced offstage. "It was around this time that the king and miller's son arrived." Makarov and Gajeel walked back onstage. "So this is yours too?" "Indeed. My master is the best lord in all the land." Lily assured, standing by his dragon slayer's side. "If he's that great, he has my blessing to marry my daughter." Makarov assured, letting Levy step forward. Gajeel grinned as he leaned down to kiss her. "And they all lived happily ever after!" Wendy cheered. 

The guild clapped as the actors got off the stage. "You two can stop kissing now." Lily said with a small sigh as he watched the couple make out. "No thanks, I'm good." Gajeel only grinned as Levy gave him a light shove and looked over towards the book. "What's next?" she asked curiously. Wendy turned back to the book, "The Foolish Wishes." she read. "I know that story!" Levy smiled, "That would be perfect for Natsu and Lucy." "Huh?!" Lucy exclaimed. Wendy gasped and turned to the duo energetically, "Oh, please Lucy?! Please Natsu?!" Lucy sighed and smiled fondly "Oh, alright. . ." she stood and began reading the story. "Sure! If Gajeel can do it, I can do it!" Natsu grinned and used Lucy as an arm rest while he read. Once they were done, they headed backstage and Wendy began the second story. 

THE FOOLISH WISHES

"There was once a poor woodcutter . . . " Wendy began, at this Natsu walked onstage. "He was so sad he wanted to die." "SCREW YOU, HEAVENS!" Natsu yelled, angrily, "You've never given me anything!" "At this moment Jupiter appeared! Oh. . . but we didn't choose a Jupiter. . ." Wendy realized, sadly. "The heck is a Jupiter?" Natsu asked. "Jupiter is the god of thunder and lightning." Carla explained, "King of the Roman gods." 

"We have our own god of thunder~" Freed smirked over at his love teammate. Laxus slowly turned to look at the rune mage, "NO." "Come on, Laxus. You'd make her day." Evergreen pressed. "Yeah! Don't be an ass!" Bixlow said. "Ass!" "Ass! "Ass!" his babies repeated, flying around Laxus's head. The blonde sighed and glared ahead, "You three won't leave me alone until I do it, will you?" "No, we will not." "Nuh-uh." "We're just gonna keep annoying you!" "Annoying!" "Annoying! "Annoying!" "I'm also going to cut off your alcohol privileges until you do it." Mirajane chirped in. That did it. Laxus groaned and approached Wendy.  "I'll be your Jupiter- but only because I'm being forced into it." he shot a glare at his team as he climbed onto the stage. His voice was emotionless when he spoke. 

"I am Jupiter. God of thunder and lightning. Fear me." Natsu snickered at the lackluster performance, "That's all ya got? C'mon, man! Do some special effects or something!" Laxus was more than happy to strike Natsu with lightning. While the Salamander lay on the ground in pain, Wendy continued, "Jupiter promised the woodcutter three wishes!" "Alright, dumbass, listen up." Laxus grabbed Natsu by the scarf and yanked him into a standing position, "The first three wishes you make will come true, got it?" Natsu nodded, he opened his mouth to speak but Laxus quickly covered it, "So don't waste them on dumb shit." Laxus dropped Natsu onto the ground again and hopped off of the stage, grumbling bitterly as he returned to his seat. "With those words, Jupiter returned to the sky!" Wendy narrated, happily, "But the woodcutter raced home to his wife." 

Lucy walked in and set up a table and two chairs, before taking a seat at the table. Natsu raced over gleefully, "WE'RE GONNA BE RICH!!!!" he cheered. "What?" Lucy exclaimed, "How?!" "The woodcutter told his wife the story." Wendy narrated. "We have to be careful with our wishes, Natsu. We'll sleep on it and make the wishes tomorrow morning." Lucy suggested, "I'll go make dinner you start the fire." Natsu nodded, "I'm good at that." Natsu enthusiastically set the nearby barrel on fire (the one they had used as a lake in the last story) and put his feet up on the table. 

"Man this fire looks tasty." Natsu thought aloud, "I wish I had a sausage too!" Mirajane threw a sausage onstage and Natsu stared down at it, ". . . Oh no." "Natsu!! You idiot!!" Lucy yelled angrily, "We could've had gold, diamonds, jewels- And you wish for a sausage?!!" "It was an accident!" Natsu defended. 

"I can't believe i ever made friends with someone like you!" Lucy ranted on. "Hey! I said it was an accident!" Natsu was starting to grow angry. "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done! And you've done a lot of stupid things-" "I wish the sausage was stuck on your nose!!!" Natsu yelled angrily. Lucy gasped as she picked up the sausage and held it to her nose. "NATSU!!!!!!" 

"Oh no! We only have one wish now!" Natsu realized, ignoring his 'wife's' plight, "What should I use it for?!" "I have a sausage stuck on my nose!!!!" Lucy scolded. Natsu sighed, "I wish my wife didn't have a sausage on her nose. . ." he grumbled. The sausage fell to the ground. "And so the woodcutter and his wife learned a valuable lesson!" Wendy announced, proudly as the duo left the stage. "Man, Lucy, why do you always gotta mess things up?" "I messed it up? I think you read the wrong story pal-" 

[nadiawrites14]

whagt the hell nadia has a creepypasta oc???

its october mf

wc: 3.6k

not very well written and a bit of a hot mess but still love this tall king <3

There was this kid at my school. 

There was a kid at my school, and I just really need to talk about him. I think it’s something I need to put out there. I am talking about it because anyone and everyone I talk to seems to never remember his name, or him in general, but I can’t stop thinking about his face.

I was never popular at school, and my brother always outshined me in that fact. He was a cheerleader, and I was his nerdy, unattractive sister. His friends were never friendly with me, and it wasn’t easy for me to make new ones, so I mostly kept to myself. Besides a few nice classmates, I was a bit of a loner, and this led me to Charlie.

Charlie Nguyen had always attended school in my city. I knew of him — we’d never actually talked, besides nearly 10 years of attending school together. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone really talked to Charlie. He was always there, a lingering presence, and seemed to get on better with teachers than he did with other kids. Despite both of us being outcasts, we never interacted, right up until recently. He just tapped my shoulder in the hallway once, shyly staring at his feet and asking if I would like to eat lunch with him in the library. Despite his crooked posture and timidness, he towered over me. I was only as tall as his shoulder. I had nothing to lose from it, really — it was more preferable to spending lunch with Ernest and his friends, so I accepted cheerily which made him very happy. 

Talking to him, I was shocked at how much I missed out on by never bothering to strike up a conversation. He was funny, sweet, and a hell of a lot more intelligent than I had believed. I’d often seen my teachers slip back 70s and 60s to him, but in one of the library’s secluded corners, we discussed politics and art and existentialism. I don’t even know how we got into talking about philosophy and what defines the self, but by the time the bell rang, my lunch was not eaten and I was much more enlightened than I was before. It was like a lightning bolt. I told him I’d be glad to eat lunch with him tomorrow as well, and he seemed very appreciative of it. As I headed to my last class, I realized I forgot to ask for his number, but decided I’d ask the next day.

Something about Charlie was just so alluring. I didn’t know much about him at all, even after our daily lunches began — he was 17, from Fresno, and his mother passed when he was young. Half-Vietnamese, half-white, and he spoke broken Spanish and loved to draw cartoons in the margins of his notes. I found myself chatting with him through text past my bedtime, where we’d discuss our lives, our academics, our interests. One thing Charlie and I really bonded over was our shared interest in both Shakespeare and horror movies. He’d been enamored since he read Romeo and Juliet his freshman year, but Hamlet was his favorite. At the time, I was peeling through AP Literature with straight A’s and was much more concerned with Tolstoy and Plath and Camus, but his fascination with the bard was certainly something I could bond with him over.

I prefer the comedies, though. Midsummer’s Night, Much Ado, As You Like It. Charlie’s interest in the tragedies ranged from the general to the obsessive, where he would produce sermons and sermons of how much the words and writings spoke to him. Considering how much death was in Hamlet and Macbeth, his other favorite, it concerned me, but I passed it off as nothing unique. After all, he was also a fan of slashers and all things horror. He loved a good scare. Whenever I tried to coax him into visiting his house for a movie night or a sleepover, he’d defer, and I would glumly accept the sentence. Once I switched the proposed setting from his house to mine, he gladly accepted.

Ernest was a little bit less enthusiastic about my liaisons with Charlie. They had gotten into scuffles before. Ernest got a very stern slap on the wrist for pulling on Charlie’s crutch in the hall once, freshman year. I told him a week in advance, just so he knew to vacate the house the next Friday and allow me and what he so lovingly called ‘the creepy asshole’ to watch a movie together. Ernie huffed and puffed about it the whole week and it really began to get on my nerves. The entire week, he bugged me and demanded just what I saw in that freak. I excused it as brotherly overprotection, but as Friday grew closer, I started to realize that it was fear.

When he dropped me off that morning, I confronted him in the car. “Why are you so scared of Charlie?”

Ernie scoffed. “I’m not scared of Charlie.”

“You sound pretty paranoid when you’re dropping a curfew on me and telling me to not get too close or talk too much.”

“Well, mom and dad are out of the house, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Charlie is a freak. He’s... creepy. I can’t place my finger on what’s up with him. Esme, just tell me, have you ever left the room with a splitting headache when you’re with him? Has your phone ever started bugging out? Hm?”

I thought back. Well, a few lunches in, I did have such an awful headache I had to excuse myself from class to go try and throw my guts up in the bathroom. It wasn’t that, though, and it had subsided by the end of the school day. The back of my skull would sometimes pound and contract, but I didn’t think it was anything, reducing it to pollution or mold in the school. It always ebbed when I left the school. For my phone, it would get a little buggy. Just a little buggy, though! I had no reason to think it was Charlie’s fault! It’s not like we live in a world where that shit happens. He’s not some psychic, he’s a weird, lonely kid with trauma. That’s it. And I let Ernie know that by screaming an expletive and slamming the door on him, spending the rest of the school day with a headache tenfold worse than the one I had all those weeks ago. By lunchtime, my head was pounding so fiercely I almost slipped and fell down the stairs. 

Charlie noticed, and asked what was wrong, a worried look on his face. I asked if we could postpone, and went on to talk about how awful my headache was. He seemed very disappointed about it but nodded and accepted with a smile. I felt so guilty about it, but it was quickly absolved, because when I walked out of the library with him I must have blacked out in the hallway. Charlie and one of the other teachers brought me to the nurse’s office, where my mother brought me home as I moaned in the backseat.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. A literal blur behind my crowded vision and the blood rushing in my ears, but I do remember awaking in the darkness of my room at around 1:00 AM. The red light on my digital clock said so. I awoke to the sound of something like water boiling, or when a witch’s brew bubbles inside of a movie or cartoon. It was bubbling, dripping, wet — but when I pulled back my curtain, everything appeared dry. No rain, not even any clouds. The stars were quite clear, due to the fact that it was a new moon. Despite that lingering sound of bubbling and popping, I was able to fall back asleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I came downstairs the next morning, my parents (and an over-concerned Ernie) were adamant that I stay home all weekend. I accepted that the next two days would be filled with boring movie binges and cups of hot soup and tea, and I plopped back under the covers. My head began to pound every time I checked my phone. I noticed Charlie had sent me a few texts, but I didn’t have the heart nor the energy to check what he had said. 

Sunday is when things actually began to get weird. The batteries in the remote for my TV had gone kaput, and I remembered that Ernie usually kept the same type in his desk for his old lamp. It was easier to walk across the hall to his room than down two flights of stairs into the basement. I knocked, and when there was no response, I entered. The lights were off. This was strange, because Ernie always loved to keep lights on. My parents constantly griped about seeing his outline in the window as late as 11, either from the strip LED lights that lined his room, the fairy lights, the candles, or the overhead light. I flipped the light switch and rubbed my eyes, as it was the most brightness I had seen in the past two days. Beginning to feel a tad nauseous, I took a seat at Ernie’s desk, trying to recall which drawer he kept his batteries in. As I searched, though, I noticed one drawer was shut from the inside, most likely from a heavyweight.

I should have just kept it shut. I shouldn’t have pressed. I should have gotten what I needed and left it alone, left my golden boy brother’s life completely alone. Then I could live knowing he didn’t have any dark secrets despite being a little bit of a bully and just a tad too standoffish. But, being the curious girl I was, I kept pushing until the drawer gave in.

Composition notebooks. The white smudges across the notebook covers had been filled in with dashes of pen, each one meticulously filled in. All five of the notebooks had this pattern. Blacked out, no name on the lines or any signage, otherwise normal in appearance. By that point, I should have known, but I kept going. I was once again shrouded in that same allure I felt around Charlie, the strange sense of being drawn in. When I opened the first notebook, I had to stop myself from making a sound. Every single page. Every single page in that notebook was filled with scratches in multicolored ballpoint pen, pleads and hypotheses and prayers. Drawings, maps, entries. The pages were thin from being worn down so deeply with the frantic pen marks, and many of the pages had been torn through from the intensity of the writing. My nausea grew and I began to feel my head pounding again. But I just couldn’t stop. Trying to process those frantic words written and dated and laden with tables and records and drawings was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics. Particularly, there was one symbol and one familiar figure that was retained throughout the notebook’s contents. An O with an X slashed through it. It reminded me of how I marked my bubbles on Scantrons, one line through, one line through, shade in the bubble. And the figure. The figure. A faceless man, a white oval of a face atop a suit and tie, and what looked to be tentacles pouring out from the sides. 

I was snapped out of my trance by the sound of footsteps rising up the stairs. I dumped the notebooks back in my drawer, besides the fourth one, which I tucked in the back of my shorts and underneath my sweatshirt. Ernie looked at me weirdly as I exited his room, but I offered a weak smile and held up the pack of batteries. He nodded, and I disappeared back into my room.

It fascinated me, and it scared me. When the oncoming headache and nauesa had left, I scanned over all his words and entries, observing each of his drawings and sentences and deconstructing like a true AP student should know how to do. I always assumed Ernie was going to parties when I heard his window open and shut or when he warned me he wouldn’t be home until late, not investigating supernatural entities in our affluent suburban town and measuring sound waves through apps he’d downloaded onto his phone. I hadn’t known Ernie was this brilliant. It took me about two hours of reading and rereading that singular notebook until I had connected the dots.

A few years ago, our cousin Ronnie disappeared. Ronnie and Ernie were best friends, close like brothers, and were inseparable at each and every family gathering. What I knew for certain about Ronnie is that he also had a particular fascination with ghost-hunting. He went out on frequent escapades with his girlfriend and her brother with some handy professional equipment in the most ‘supernatural’ bits of California. Most of my family excused it as a strange hobby that didn’t subtract from Ronnie’s successful business career, not until all three of the ghost-hunting squad disappeared without a trace while investigating the Lassen National Forest. No DNA, no bodies, no signs or directions or a reason were ever found. Even their car and all their expensive equipment, all of Ronnie’s research, had vanished into thin air. It seemed he had become one of those ghost stories he so adored to pursue. It didn’t hit me that hard, as I hadn’t known Ronnie all that well, but I hadn’t factored in how much of Ernie’s personality had changed since the disappearance. He had become more standoffish with his rivals, more competitive with his athletics, more jumpy and paranoid.

I should have known by the way he looked at Charlie. I assumed it was drama I had missed out on or the pure perils of high school hierarchies. But I had never noticed how hateful, how accusatory it really was. For some reason, I was certain that Ernie had it in his head that all of these things were connected. The Faceless Man, the disappearance of our beloved Ronnie Halaifinoua, and the outcast at my school who was seemingly responsible for bugged out phones and splitting headaches. It made no sense, but at the same time, it was like a missing piece to a puzzle that I simply had to snap into place. I hid the notebook in my schoolbag, and went back on Monday armed with a bottle of aspirin and comfortable clothes, ready to confront Charlie.

At lunch, I took two aspirin and handed him the notebook wordlessly. We sat in silence as he slowly peered over the pages, absorbing the information behind blank eyes without a single sound. When he reached the final page, he set it down and asked, “Did you write this?”

“Ernie did.”

Charlie sniggered at that and crossed his legs. “Well, he’s onto me, now, isn’t he?”

I stared at him, slack-jawed, feeling duped. “You’re— you’re—“

“What, supernatural? I’d like to think so,” he gave me a mellow look. “Ah… you may want to take another aspirin. Watch this.”

I popped one and I watched. He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. The lights above us flickered off, then on, then off again, before the lights reignited. Charlie opened his eyes, suddenly breathless, and nodded. “I can’t… usually do it with that much control. It needs work.”

I slammed my hands down on the notebook, my mind barreling at 100 miles per hour with a smattering of questions in tow. “Everything. Tell me everything. Now.”

Charlie folded his hands and gestured to the aspirin. I shook my head and pulled the bottle to my side. He cleared his throat, steadied his gaze, and began. “I wouldn’t call myself willingly supernatural by any means. I did not ask to be this way. I have been tossed through more foster homes in 17 years than I can count on my hands, and I would give anything to give up this life. I hate living a life where I’m unable to control my abilities. I don’t want to hurt others, I don’t want to do this, but sometimes it gets out of hand. Lucky for you,” he said. “Some people will gain immunity once exposed to it long enough.”

“Gain immunity to what?”

“It has a lot of names depending on the universe you’re in. They mostly call it the slender sickness, but you can call it the static sickness, faceless-man-itis, whatever. You do you. Headaches, nausea, hallucinations. Malfunctioning electricity. Static. The whole thing.”

“So it is you.”

“Always has been. Well, not totally. Faceless Man? The Faceless Man, as your brother says, he may or may not have touched my mother with his hand, therefore touching me as well and handing me a degree of abilities that I drag with me. It’s my cross, Esme. I’ve been avoiding his gaze for the past 16 years and have always managed to just be out of his reach, but my powers are getting stronger and it’s all getting more and more out of hand. I needed to go to someone.”

“Does he have a name? An actual one.”

“Many names. The Operator, the Business Man, Chernobog. Apparently, now, the Faceless Man. And I guess he’s my parental figure now. I’ve been chilling with him more often. Crazy dude, gotta say,” Charlie said, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. “Crazy, crazy things.”

I looked at my hands, unsure of what to feel. “Did he kill my cousin?”

Charlie’s face went slack. “He’s killed many, many, people, but I don’t have control over what he does.”

We sat in silence for a long moment until Charlie spoke again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

My heart began to pound. “Ernie’s after you,” I said, running a hand through my hair and letting it fall over my face. “I think he might try and hurt you.”

“So… movie night is postponed indefinitely, then,” he replied.

I grinned sadly at him. “Don’t make me laugh, this is serious. I don’t want you to be harmed.”

His arms dropped to his side, and he smiled at me. He smiled in a way that drew me back in all over again. “Esme, be here tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

He vanished back out into the hall. I chose not to follow him. But, for the first time, I had a surprising lack of a headache, and I don’t think it was because of the aspirin. 

That night, I slipped the notebook back into Ernie’s drawer. I think he may have figured it out, though, because when we bumped into each other on the stairs, we stared at each other for a good minute saying nothing. I believe it was my way of telling him which side I was on, because when he surrendered his gaze he slammed the door shut behind him and I heard rummaging in his room. I walked to school the next morning.

When I came to lunch the next day, Charlie was already waiting for me. He handed me a gift bag. “It’s a present,” he said. “For you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’m moving. You might never see me again.”

“Oh, Charlie…”

“I say might. Might. There’s a chance we will meet again. Perhaps in another lifetime or in another universe. We can figure it out, alright? Alright.”

I shared my lunch with him, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and we toasted to his new life with our milk cartons. When we left the library that day, our pinkies were interlocked. As he turned to go to class, I pulled him back, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll miss you,” I said. 

He hugged me. It was like hugging one of those plasma balls where your hair stands up when you touch it. I had just stuck my fingers in a socket, but when I pulled back, all I could see were Charlie’s grateful, glowing eyes. “I’ll miss you too. Goodbye, Esme. Goodbye.”

My hair on my arms was still standing up and my cheeks were dark with color. I had a mark on my pinkie from where it touched his.

Since that day, I haven’t seen Charlie Nguyen. Ernie is still doing tests and taking entries though they become more inconsistent and confusing each and every day. I have an idea of who’s altering his readings. The present Charlie gave me, though, might hold some importance for me in the future. It’s a key without something to unlock, a piece of quartz, his copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with all his annotations in the margins, and a pair of earrings with ghosts on them. Quartz conducts electricity. I remember learning that in class. I always keep it in my pocket now. When I ask my teachers about him, they seem confused, as do the other students. Ernie and I have seemed to make a silent pact as to not discuss the matters of the supernatural. I think he’s looking for Charlie. He’s looking for anything that will bring him closer to the truth.

I feel farther to the truth than ever before, but I know I cannot be far from it. It’s a matter of time. Ernie has begun to have headaches lately.

[softstraykids]

M.I.A

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

member(s): bang chan ft han jisung genre: angst with fluffy ending summary: best friends to lovers au! you and chan have been best friends for as long as you can remember but as high school comes around he changes, you change and you two grow apart. but that wasn’t the ending of your story with chan. it was just the beginning. warnings: bullying, minor violence requested: yes angst was requested a/n: loosely based on M.I.A by stray kids (nice to listen to while reading)

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

chan and you were best friends from when you were basically born

as babies you’d play together at each others houses, take baths together, watch kids shows

literally you’d cry whenever chan left

every single baby video either of your parents had

nearly 99% of time had both of you in it

during primary school you were still really super tight

even with the whole girls have cooties going on

you’d go to each other house everyday

it helped you guys were only a few minutes away

both of your parents just had another child basically

all of your homework you’d help each other

if you ever got teased by any of the other guys cause they liked you

chan would always get mad at them and be super intimidating

they’d literally never come near you ever again

you both would share and trade food in your lunchboxes

both of you would have sleepovers every week

you knew everything about each other

chan would literally be the perfect friend to you

whenever there was a thunderstorm and since you were terrified of them

he’d literally sprint over to your house in the pouring rain without an umbrella

and dash into your room to calm you down

he’d wrap you in a towel so you wouldn’t get wet from him

and hold you while rocking you gently back and forth in your bed

while singing soft songs to you until you calm down and end up sleeping

he’d then wait for at least a full hour to make sure you don’t wake up

the whole time he’d gently pat your hair and smile at you so softly like you were the most precious thing to him in his life

and in all honesty you were

in middle school

everything was just the same as it was when you guys were in primary but you two were even more close

if that was even possible

you guys helped each other with literally all your problems

gossip sessions and movie nights were a regular

family vacations as well with both of your families

and pet names became a thing too

one day out of the blue chan called you jokingly

“baby~”

and you were so flustered and blushing so much he kept on going

“aw is y/n blushing, baby, baby, bab-” he chanted before you covered his mouth

“BANG CHAN YOU BETTER SHUT UP NOW” you jokingly shouted at him

he gave his puppy innocent eyes and had his hands up like he did nothing wrong

while you just sighed at him and shook your head removing your hand from his mouth

chan just gave you a cheeky grin before whispering in your ear “baby”

then bolting off

and baby became princess, darling, sweetheart, honey, pumpkin, bub, babygirl

hehe

the list went on and on

people often mistaken you two as couple

with how affectionate you two were

but both of you always denied it quickly

though every time someone did ask your heart always skipped a beat

you’d always ignore it

but you and chan were just and only best friends

right?

though at school you two had different friend groups

all the classes you had with each other you sat together

and on some occasional lunches you hung out together alone

when all of the girls wanted to have a boyfriend

you never did

you had chan and that was the only guy you’d ever need

chan had the same mentality

it’s not like you weren’t friends with other guys

but they would never be as half as close with you as you were with chan

same thing for him

you loved chan with your whole heart

and he loved you just as much

both of you never wanted anything to change

but it did

chan changed

you changed because chan changed

and it was so so slow and excruciatingly painful

but you two parted

one happier than ever

one more broken than can be

or so you thought

it was the day before the first day of high school and you two were watching the sunset on chan’s roof 

it was a thing you two did 

and both of you loved it

you both would always snuggle into each other watching the sunset no talking

just comfortable silence with a earbud in each of your ears listening to music

“chan you remember our promise?” you asked looking at him nervously

he flashed you his signature dimpled grin “of course”

“don’t worry y/n i’ll never break it” he says so assured you couldn’t help but believe him 100%

and with that high school started for you two

that promise you’ll always remember 

you two made it so many years ago when you two were little

it was simple

and very cheesy

but it was chan’s and your promise

“we’ll always love each other no matter what”

your friendship meant a lot more than that but it was also perfectly summarised into that promise 

you never had a moment of doubt you two wouldn’t be able to keep it

but you should have

you should have thought about it

maybe it would’ve cushioned your fall

for the first few months of high school you two stuck together like glue

but then chan gradually became more and more busy with things you couldn’t even do

like the all boys soccer team

and the all boys basketball team

and the all boys swim team

and the list kept on going

you were always super supportive but also worried he was overworking himself

but when was he not

“chan please don’t overwork yourself” you'd beg as he signed up for another tryout

“it’s okay sweetheart i’ll be fine you’re there for me right?” he says full of ease

he kisses your forehead gently before smiling flashing his dimples like he always does and running off

and there goes your heart again

beating so bloody damned fast

“you gotta snap out of this just because you’re single as hell and chan acts like your best friend/boyfriend DOES NOT MEAN you can like him”

you say trying to convince yourself

and in all honesty you actually thought you didn’t like him

just that you thought he’d be a great boyfriend

but subconsciously you became less affectionate with chan worried that your feelings were real

making chan also become less affectionate

there were no more forehead and cheek kisses

but still lots of hugs

though that was the start of it all

in the next few months

there were basically nothing you did together

plus you two had zero classes together

but for the first two months or so you still made it work for both of you

you still had movie nights, sleepovers, family vacations, late night convos, study sessions

but then the excuses came piling in

missing all of the things you did together

for practice, parties, homework

then you two stopped actually texting and just made small talk

this went on for months and you did your best to try to ignore it

ignore that your friendship was crumbling and you had zero clue why

but when it really went all downhill

was with a simple text

“hey princess, sorry but i can't make it for sunday’s study session”

you didn't think much of it as chan nearly always bailed like this and just replied with

“that’s okay”

but that sunday you were walking past your favourite coffee shop that you and chan loved

and there he was smiling and laughing sipping some coffee with some gorgeous girl

you just stood there looking at the two of them

completely shocked not being able to process a thought

then chan leant over to tuck a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear

she blushed bright red and had a smile on her face

while chan just had that stupid adorable grin on his face

you didn’t realise you were even tearing up until you felt your cheeks wet from your tears

that was when you finally snapped out of it and sprinted home

you didn’t even know why you were so upset

was it because you guys got so distant that chan bailed on you and didn’t tell you he was going on a date

or was it because he ditched you for this girl

or was it because he liked someone?

and it hit you 

that was it

you fell for chan

you didn’t know how or when

but you fell for him hard and now it was way too late

how were you so dumb to fall for him

you were so so idiotic you thought as you cried yourself to sleep

you avoided chan the next few days just as much as you avoided your feelings and it wasn’t really that hard

since you never saw each other anyways but when he finally surprised you in the hallway by giving you a back hug

“boo!” he said in your ear

you turned around and gave him a weak smile not looking him in the eye

“hey” you softly said

he instantly was worried and your heart warmed at his concerned face

“you okay?” he asked

“yeah just really tired that’s all” you said dismissing his concerns

“oh okay i was going to ask you to go to my soccer game tomorrow night but please sleep instead” he says still concerned

"i’ll try to come” you say sincerely

“thank you, do you want me to walk you home and we can watch the sunset together?” he asks with a smile

“i’d love that” you say with a smile of your own

feeling maybe you and chan just needed some time to get close again

and maybe your feelings will go away and everything will go back to normal

wishful thinking, hope, all of that

gosh they were a complete nuisance

because just as chan said that you heard jisung shout

“CHAN COME ON WE HAVE PRACTICE!!”

“i’m sorry i totally forgot we have an extra practice today because of tomorrow’s game i gotta go take care okay?” he says apologetically

“mhmm don’t work yourself too hard” you say trying to hide your disappointment

he just gives you a hug and ruffle of your hair

like he would to a little sister

and he ran off without a glance back

jisung who you were closest with out of chan’s best friends gave you an apologetic smile and mouthed sorry and left with him

there you stood in the hallway all alone with a bitter smile

as for the billionth time chan ditched you

and

it hurt

it hurt a lot

and you cried yourself to sleep again 

“you’re an asshole chan” you said to yourself

but why did you still love him you thought 

the next day you heard whispers of your name and chan

it was woojin and minho two of chan’s best friends

you hid to hear what they were saying

“why is chan still leading her on?” you could hear minho ask

“chan isn’t, he’s just oblivious” woojin said exasperatedly

“like yesterday jisung told me he offered to walk her home but he didn’t mention that it was because their parents wanted to have dinner together” woojin continued

“but he was at practice yesterday?” minho asked puzzled

minho put it together as soon as he said it “ah he bailed”

“exactly and now he has a thing with katherine i’m sure they’re going to be a thing soon”

i am so so so sorry if you’re reading this and your name is katherine

“she’s a bitch though” minho said in disgust

“not to chan, haven’t you seen them joined at the hip it’s like y/n never existed and katherine was the one there all along” woojin said tiredly

“fuck poor y/n” minho said with pity

you didn’t want to hear anymore

chan didn’t like you

he didn’t even care about you

and you realised you had a hopeless crush on a guy who would never even look at you that way

not only that he could not give two shits about you anymore

he chose someone over you

basically replaced you

it felt like someone just ripped your heart out

so you ran away crying

again

because of chan

again

but pathetically you still went to the final game

hoping for something

anything to make you believe something different

a sign that chan still cared

that he still loved you

not even romantically just as a friend

you didn’t even need him as a boyfriend just a friend 

your friend

chan and his soccer team won

with chan scoring the winning goal he was surrounded by people congratulating him

just as you were about to reach him

one of the soccer guys shouted “PARTY AT MY PLACE!!!!”

chan normally would find you and invite you to the party

and you two would go together

instead of even trying to look for you

he slung his arm around katherine and simply left

but as he was walking with everyone to the car park he saw you

though instead of going to you or gesturing to come over

he simply looked away and walked off

his arm still wrapped tightly around katherine

who looked back at you and smirked

then it was like in slow motion she kissed him and winked at you

and your heart simply broke

as you saw chan’s beaming smile showing off his adorable dimples

the smile you thought was only for you

the smile he now never showed to you

straight at katherine

you stood there alone on an empty soccer field

crying

heart chipping slowly away

happy memories haunting you

then it suddenly hit you

chan broke his promise

he really didn’t love you anymore

how couldn’t of you noticed sooner?

the way he never checked up on you

or smiled at you whenever you were around him

how he never wanted to spend time with you in any possible way

and the fact he replaced you and was happier than ever

it was a wave of emotions that completely overwhelmed you

anger, grief, disappointment sadness, but most of all the haunting emptiness of your heart

you really did give chan your whole heart and he grabbed it and took off with it running

leaving you broken and desperate with absolutely nothing

your crying became sobbing

and you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried

the tears were endless and your heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly

over and over and over again

it suddenly started to rain and you could hear thunder

and you started to then scream and fell down to your knees

clutching your hair and trying to cover your ears

you couldn’t handle it

the emptiness of losing your best friend, your rock, your partner in crime, your absolute everything

the hurl of emotions overwhelmed you

and adding the fear of thunderstorms with chan not there

reminding you of all the past thunderstorms with him comforting you

it was too much

you collapsed

but just as you were about to hit the ground someone caught your head just in time

“holy shit y/n are you okay? can you hear me? fuck fuck fuck” cursed the guy who saved you

he quickly scooped you up and sprinted to his car

he knew the ambulance would take longer to get you to the hospital plus it was only 10 minutes away

he got to the hospital frantic with you in his arms

the nurses immediately calmed him down to explain

they then asked who he was

“i-i’m a friend” he said

if this was in 2 parts i’d cut it off here cause cliffhanger~

you woke up in a hospital bed with the biggest headache in the world

but right next to your bed holding your hand tightly completely asleep was one guy you wouldn’t have ever expected to see

jisung

han jisung

and weirdly for the first time in weeks you gave out a small genuine smile

the next week you didn't go to school due to your doctor’s recommendation

your parents were worried sick but you just told them you were fine

jisung visited you everyday and caught you up with your school work

you were really grateful to him for everything

being so caring for you when you were struggling a lot

lending you a shoulder to cry on

making you laugh and smile even though you felt like you were in living hell

and of course saving you

unsurprisingly chan didn’t even visit you even though his parents did

you didn’t even receive a single text from chan asking if you were okay

and that horrible stabbing feeling came back with a vengeance

but you were slowly dealing with the pain

you knew it would take months to get over chan

maybe years

you constantly missed him and you constantly wanted to hug him and talk to him

it was excruciatingly painful all of it

but you could get over him right??

when you went back to school after missing two weeks

you were surprised so many people asked if you were okay

when you said that to jisung he laughed

“y/n you are so dumb people love you like actually”

“wait what the hell are you talking about jisung” you ask so confused

“y/n you are one of the nicest people in school, you literally could not give two shits who they are, you’ll always help them out and be nice” jisung says

“but that’s me just being polite” you say frowning cutely

while jisung could’t help but think how adorable you are

“maybe to you but to others that’s being like an angel” he says with a smile

“well then what are you then?” you ask tilting your head slightly

“what do you mean?” jisung asks completely perplexed

“well you’ve been so nice to me these last few days even though in the past i’ve only sent you my notes for maths. plus you literally saved me” you say genuinely really thankful beaming up at him

jisung heart warms at your words

“isn’t it obvious y/n? i’m your knight in shining armor” jisung says eyebrows wiggling

you giggle as he jokingly swoops down in a low bow and kisses your hand

then suddenly he spins you into his arms and jokingly starts to dance with you

you kept on laughing and smiling as you two were having a ball dancing with each other 

but you had no idea someone was watching you two interact

the way that you were smiling at jisung

their fists curling up tightly without them realising

anger misting their logic and common sense

and their heart hurting much deeper than they thought was possible

because that smile they thought was only shown to them

and they missed your smile so so much 

the one they took away

just an hour later you found out katherine moved to your school

you knew she didn’t like you it was clear from the night of the game

but you really hoped you two would just ignore each other

fat chance

at lunch you were sitting with your friends

while jisung was at the table where chan was and the rest of the boys

suddenly the noise died down as katherine entered the cafeteria

chan whipped out a bouquet of roses walking towards her

and your heart was sinking as the quiet whispers grew

he then announced loudly

“katherine, over the past few months i’ve fallen for you so i want to ask will you be my girlfriend?”

she squealed, squeaked and screamed like some sort of seagull “YES!! YES!! YES!!”

sorry just stating the facts

everyone applauded as chan picked up into his arms and kissed her deeply

you looked away and you desperately tried not to cry

you couldn’t help but think

past few months huh? he really did replace her with me

it all added up he started becoming distant when he started to get to know her

replacing me with her  

your friends didn’t say anything since they knew if you said a word you’d end up balling

instead they tried to shield you from the whole scene

but just as the couple stopped kissing

katherine looked at you and the look in her eyes was clear

“he’s mine now”

that was expected but what wasn’t was chan looking at you with a satisfied smirk

your thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour

you felt like you were about to vomit

did chan really did do this publicly to spite you?

you knew he wasn’t the type for public proposals

if he did this to spite you

you couldn’t help but think he hates you

absolutely despises you

before your head could think of any other thoughts you heard a large bang

you see at chan’s table jisung standing up with his fists clenched looking really pissed off

and you see the chair on the floor upside down which explained the noise

the rest of the table looks either pissed or confused

depending on if they noticed the couple looking directly at you

the whole cafeteria was silent as he roughly swings his duffel bag with all his sports stuff over his shoulder

“jisung don’t” chan said warningly his voice firm and low

you would usually stop whatever you were doing when chan had that tone because that voice scared the shit out of you

but instead of being scared jisung scoffed

“don’t what? tell me chan what i shouldn’t do?” jisung challenged chan looking him directly in the eye

chan was taken aback usually jisung would back down instantly

“oh what? not be a completely asshole and actually a good friend to someone who is literally the best thing that. ever. happened. to. you.”

jisung said menacingly jabbing chan in the chest with his finger as he said the last few words

chan was speechless

if looks could kill katherine’s glare would’ve buried jisung 50ft into the ground

he wasn’t even fazed and sarcastically ended with a

“i really really do hope you have a happily ever after with her”

jisung says jerking his finger at katherine as if she barely existed

and spitting out her like saying her name would make him sick

katherine looked like she was about to send him to hell

you could see minho and woojin smirking along with a few of the other guys

jisung then walked over to you without a word and gives you a cheeky smile

and with the whole cafeteria watching including chan and katherine’s murderous glares

he literally just scooped you up into his arms not listening to your protests

“jisung what are you doing!! jisung let me down now!!” you shout while hitting his chest while he just chuckled at you

just as you two were about to leave the cafeteria

jisung turned back to chan who looked like he was torn between breaking down and crying and beating jisung into a pulp

“seriously i really do hope you’re happy with the she devil because that means the angel is all mine” jisung loudly announces while giving chan the cockiest smirk possible

chan can’t help but look at you

your arms wrapped around jisung’s neck, your head snuggled into his neck

it seemed like you were really comfortable not only with him but being in his arms like that

and then jisung kissed you on the forehead softly

making you blush and smile at him the way you used to smile at him

just like you did in the hallway

something in chan snapped

“she can’t be an angel if she’s slutting around” he says angrily not thinking twice letting all the emotions talk for him

instant regret floods him as he sees the broken expression on your face

even katherine looks shocked while there were collective gasps from all the students

“jisung put me down” you say firmly leaving no room for argument

jisung swiftly did and you could see he was about to sprint over and smack chan one

you lay a hand on his chest

“jisung no this isn’t your fight this is mine okay? let me handle it” you say looking at him straight in the eyes making sure he understood

you could see he did but the anger and stiffness never left his body

everyone watched as you walked right up to chan

you take a deep breath in as you finally look at chan after weeks

your heart felt like it was being repeatedly stabbed if that was even possible

oh god you missed him

you missed him so so so much

but you asked him trying to not let your voice shake too much

“chan did you mean that?”

chan’s heart broke too the moment he heard you say his name

gosh he missed you

what has he even been doing the past few months

was katherine even worth this?

he already knew the answer to that

all he wanted to do is say no to your question and wrap you up in his arms and never let you go

but he caught sight of jisung

and he couldn’t help but think you’d be happier with him

chan hurt you so much recently because of his selfishness and he just realised that now

his anger overwhelmed him and so did all the emotions came with the last few months of him realising he liked you

while you kept on treating him like a friend

dealing with some of his teammates constant teasing

knowing he could never be more than friend to you

all of it got too much

and he hated himself for being so weak and so bloody pathetic

not being able to put his emotions aside and just be there for you

instead he got distant and he met katherine

she was a good distraction

but she couldn’t be half as close to him as you ever were

though jisung didn’t seem to be like that for you

he didn’t seem like a distraction

and chan thought at that moment he really didn’t have a chance at all with you

jisung could make you happier than he ever could

and with that thought in mind he uttered out the one word you absolutely didn’t want to hear

“yes” he whispered out 

you heart didn’t break

it was crushed

completely utterly crushed 

chan absolutely hated you and you didn’t even want to know why

chan’s friends all stood up as quick as lightning

minho literally looked like he was about to beat him up

but you beat him to it

the slapping noise echoed throughout the whole cafeteria

tears were involuntarily slipping out of your eyes

“bye chan” you whisper

you walk out of there not glancing back

and the moment you walked out

you couldn’t help but think all hope for you two was gone

as a couple

as best friends

as absolutely anything

and the moment you got to somewhere private you sobbed your heart out

the next few weeks were consisted of you crying, being with jisung, avoiding questions about the whole cafeteria fiasco and missing chan like crazy

but then suddenly your books started to go missing

or there were ripped pages in them

nasty notes were left in your locker

you just thought people might not of liked you after the whole fiasco

but a small thought tugged at the back of your head

what if it’s katherine

you didn’t want to think that though you didn’t want to to think she was that spiteful

you were wrong

after a month of the bullying and not telling anyone

you were in the bathroom washing your hands hurriedly

knowing jisung was waiting for you in the art room to walk you home

you felt someone push your shoulder roughly

and you see two of katherine’s minions

“what do you want?” you hiss out at the two of them

both of them looked at you with hatred but you could see pity in their eyes

and that made your heart drop

“i want you gone” you hear a familiar voice ring out

there was katherine herself with the cruelest smirk you’ve ever seen

“why?” you ask trying to keep a brave front

“because chan is miserable with you around him without you he’d be so much happier even jisung would be better off without you then he can go back to sitting and hanging out with his friends right?” she says in the most horrid sickly sweet voice

but what she said pushed all your buttons

you still felt so guilty about jisung and how he wasn’t close with chan anymore even though he always says it was his choice

and that he hangs out with all the other guys just not as a whole group

plus soccer season was over

but you still felt so so guilty

then there was chan

you knew you still loved him with your whole heart

no matter how many times he would break it

and all you wanted was for him to be happy

but you knew leaving wasn’t the solution to any of your problems

no matter how much you wanted to

“fuck off katherine you’re just jealous chan still loves me and not you” you say smirking

inside you knew it wasn’t true at all and that chan probably hated your guts but this bitch was really pissing you off

you hit a really sore spot for her

you could tell

and a flash of doubt crosses your mind

what if he still does...but your thoughts were interrupted

“if you’re not going to fucking leave, this will be a regular” she cruelly says

then suddenly her two minions tie your arms and legs

tie your wrists to a plumbing pipe on the wall

and muffle your mouth

panic overwhelms you and as much as you struggle you know you can’t do anything

katherine first slaps you

hard

you glare at her with so much hatred she actually takes a step back

but then she regains her composure, smirks and punches you

she slaps, punches, kicks you over and over again

until all the pain was a complete blur

you had bruises all over your body and your face

she finally stopped hitting you and her minions were long gone

the cloth over your mouth she roughly pulls down

“beg for me to stop or promise to leave” she threatens menacingly

“you’re a fucking psychotic bitch” you scream out and spit in her face

“just because no one fucking loves you including chan doesn’t mean making me leave will make him love you too” you brutally say in a low voice contrasting your scream

she screams and puts her hand up as you brace yourself for another hit

but nothing came

chan was walking down a corridor but something or rather someone came barreling into him

“jisung?” chan says concerned as he sees jisung panting trying to catch his breath looking really worried

just because he had a fall out with jisung does not mean he cared about the guy who was like his little brother any less

“y/n” jisung starts

and worry shoots up chan like a bolt of lightning

“what? what about y/n? is she okay?” chan couldn’t help but blurt out

“i don't think so she was supposed to meet me at the art class an hour ago but she isn’t answering any of my calls or texts and i have no idea where she is” jisung said looking like he was about to pull his hair out

“that’s not like y/n at all something must be up do you want to split up and look for her?” chan asks also worried out of his mind

he knew you were never the one to bail without a single notice

unlike him he guiltily thought

jisung not even answering his question looked at him straight in the eyes and asked sharply

“why did you let her go? i know you hyung and i know you didn’t want to say yes that day”

chan let out a sigh

“because she deserves better than me” he whispers out as if it was too painful to say

chan was completely devastated over losing you he wanted to be back with you so badly

to hold you, to talk to you, to laugh with you

but he couldn’t

he hurt you so so badly and you seemed like you didn’t want anything to do with him

“yes she really does” jisung says coldly

and it was like a knife pierced him as jisung said that

“but she needs you” jisung sighs out

“but what about you” chan said completely confused

jisung lets out a bitter laugh

“chan i like her a lot and i care for her a lot but all i want is for her to be happy and i know she’ll be happier with you than she would ever be with me”

before chan could reply or even process what jisung just said

they heard a scream from the girls bathroom

both of them bolted to the bathroom

both of them hoping you were okay

when they entered their hearts broke

you were bloody and bruised up tied to a pole looking like absolute death

while katherine had her hand up looking like she was about to hit you

both of your faces were etched with pure unfiltered hatred

jisung automatically grabbed katherine’s wrist

“don’t you even fucking dare lay another finger on y/n ever again”

“what th-” she started as she turned around then she saw jisung’s expression

her face paled significantly

“jisung” you said letting out a sigh as a wave of relief washed over you

your knight of shining armor

but then the softest hands started to untie you from the pole

and you saw a bed of some very familiar curls in front of you

ones you used to run through your fingers through on nearly daily basis

“c-chan?” you stuttered completely shocked

chan looked at you directly in the eyes

and you could see it all in his eyes

his eyes were glazed over with unshed tears

anger, sadness those emotions were all there

but most of all was the love he had for you and the worry

chan gave you a weak teary eyed smile and tried to keep his voice steady as he said

“hang on princess you’re gonna be okay”

your heart automatically sped up hearing him calling you princess

but your body eased knowing you really were safe

though you hated the reaction you had to him

the way he still can make your heart speed up, that you feel so safe with him

even though the last few months all he’s done was cause confusion, pain and heartbreak for you

“c-chan it’s not what it looks like” katherine said trying to defend herself

“not what it fucking looks like?” chan’s voice echoed throughout the bathroom

you’ve never heard chan sound so cold

“so literally a few hours after i break up with you saying it’s unfair to you for us to be together because i’m still in love with y/n you go and do this?” he spits out

your head started to spin when chan said he was still in love with you

you had no idea how to feel about it

absolutely no clue

at the same time jisung’s jaw clenched as chan said that

to all of you it was like being drenched in cold water

but chan’s voice breaks you all out of your thoughts

“don’t ever fucking come near me, y/n or any of my friends ever again” he said with such finality

you knew katherine never would

chan scoops you up gently as possible as he does he whispers to you

“i’m here now princess”

and with the thought that you were being carried too much these days

you passed out

hospital bed again you thought groaning internally

you look around and see chan and jisung fast asleep on the couches

suddenly someone enters and you see minho

he has a distant smile on his face as he comes over and hugs you

“are you okay?” he asks concerned

“kinda” you croak out

he gives a soft laugh handing you a cup of water

“let’s not wake these two up they haven’t slept in like 2 days plus the drama that would happen if they did” he says lightheartedly

you snort “you would love that” you say smirking

“of course i am THE drama queen of the school but for your mental and emotional wellbeing probably not a good idea” minho says with a wink

silence overwhelms you two for a few seconds before you quietly asked

“what happened?”

a painful smile on minho’s face appeared

“well chan got a full on beating from all the boys for letting this happen and dating that old hag”

you laugh again at minho’s disgusted expression when he mentioned katherine

“she got expelled by the way also she literally like legally can’t be in the 50ft radius of you” he adds

“thank goodness” you breathe out glad you don’t have to ever see katherine again

“your parents went ballistic is an understatement but they’re thankful to both jisung and chan but they kind of think you’re a bit of a heartbreaker” he whispers the last bit like a secret

“me? a heartbreaker? what a joke” you scoff thinking of how much pain you’ve been through the last few months

minho gives you a knowing smile

“well you have the two most sought out guys in school wrapped around your little pinky finger” minho says gesturing at the boys sleeping

“well the two most sought out guys after me of course” he cockily adds flipping his non existent hair over his shoulder

you giggle you love minho and his antics

“but y/n you need to choose who’s it going to be chan or jisung?” minho seriously says

“i-i have no idea” you stutter out having absolutely zero clue

you didn’t even know how you got into this situation where you had to choose between them two

“think about it okay? cause you need choose. fast” minho says with a warm smile and a ruffle of your hair before leaving  

your head was spinning you had no idea what to feel

chan you knew you loved as a friend

but when did that even become a crush?? when did those feelings sneak through the cracks?

you didn’t know how or when but you knew you still had romantic feelings for chan

but then there was jisung

your knight in shining armor

he was there for you when chan wasn’t there

he comforted you, cared for you and loved you when no else did

you didn’t deny your heart fluttered when he was affectionate with you or complimented you

but chan was never out of your heart either

and you didn’t think he ever could be

just a few minutes after minho left both boys stirred

“y/n?” jisung groggily said rubbing his eyes

“Y/N!!” he shouted rushing over to you giving you a hug as you laugh as he tightly squeezed you

“jisung i can’t breathe” you choke out

“oh my gosh i’m so so sorry” jisung says letting go of you quickly

chan looked at you two with a painful smile and says to you two

“i’ll let you two catch up, if you need me i’ll be at the rooftop garden” he says distantly and leaves

“y/n” jisung starts wistfully

and you know exactly what he’s going to say cause it’s jisung

“jisung please don’t, as selfish as it sounds i don’t want to let you go” you plead softly

he sighs and gives you a bitter smile allowing his arms to wrap around you as you snuggle into him

“as much as i want for you to stay in my arms like this, for me to ask you to be my girlfriend, and for me to take you out on the best date of your life on our 3 year anniversary, for us to make memories together and for both of us to fall in love with each other. it’s not meant to be”

jisung whispers into your hair and you know he’s right but you hate it you hate the fact he’s right

“you love chan in a way that you could never love me and while as pathetic as it sounds i would still be okay with that. you could never be okay with it. the guilt would be too much for you” he says smiling

“how can you bloody smile saying that?! y-you deserve the world jisung, the absolute world” you say trying not to cry thinking of how the hell did you deserve someone as precious as han jisung

“i can smile because i want you to be happy and you’re the happiest with chan. go find him figure this whole mess out because there’s one thing i know and its that chan is in love with you. now go to your prince charming.” jisung wipes your tears away and gives you a hug pushing you towards the door

just as you were about to leave jisung calls out to you lightheartedly

“we’re still best friends by the way that isn’t going to change no matter how smoochy you and chan get!”

you laugh and shout “deal!” as you close the door

the moment the door shuts jisung’s smile immediately drops

he knew being with chan would make you the happiest

but how is he ever going to find someone like you

his heart ached and he felt sick  

he lowered his head and shook his head putting his face in hands he said to himself “han jisung you’re such an idiot”

you on the other hand were going to the rooftop garden

the moment you got there you froze

what were you even doing?

what if chan didn’t love you?

what if you’re making a mistake in forgiving him?

what if he hurts you again?

your thoughts were making your head spin

before a voice interrupted them

“y/n?” chan says perplexed

you whip around to see chan sitting on a bench looking out onto a gorgeous skyline

“uh hi?” you awkwardly say sitting next to him on the bench

chan takes a deep breath and suddenly blurts out

“i’m so so sorry for everything, i thought i was doing the right thing and now i’ve realised all i was doing was hurting you”

“i’m still so confused chan what even happened between us? we were best friends” you say your voice barely above a whisper

chan sighs out before chuckling humourlessly

“i fell in love with you y/n” he breathes out

your breath hitched in your throat you were trying to process what chan said

“b-but why did you treat m-me like that?” you struggled to formulate coherent words 

“it was pathetic really i knew you didn’t have feelings for me so i became distant so my feelings would go away. katherine was merely a distraction that’s all. then you became close with jisung and everything came flooding back again. including the jealously which is why i said what i did in the cafeteria and i instantly regretted it but i thought you’d be happier with jisung which is why i said yes to let you go.”

chan finished wistfully

“though i always kept our promise and i always will keep it” he mutters under his breath giving you a look which melted your insides out

your heart warmed instantly 

chan didn’t forget your promise and he never broke it

but you were still completely shocked

you didn’t know what to expect from chan but it certainly wasn’t this

“but i think i did the right thing by letting you go, your smile came back because of jisung, the pretty one, i missed it a lot” he says giving you a soft smile showing off the dimples you loved so much

“so don’t worry about me you should go to your knight in shining armor” chan says with a smile that if anyone else saw they would think he was actually happy 

but you could instantly see the hurt and regret in his eyes

though he genuinely meant it

for you to be with jisung

only half of the sun was peeping out from the skyline 

and you told yourself by the time the sun disappeared from the skyline

as cheesy as it sounded you’d know whether to be with jisung your knight in shining armor or chan your prince charming

“watch the sunset with me?” you tentatively ask

chan looks at your surprised

then his eyes soften 

“one last sunset for old times sake” he softly whispers

chan puts his arm around your while you snuggle your head into his shoulder like you’ve done every single time before in the past

and you thought it’d feel different or weird 

but it didn’t

you fitted perfectly like always, warmth filled you head to toe, and you felt your worries disappearing and butterflies starting to flutter in your stomach

you intertwined your pinkies 

a silent renewed promise both of you thought 

and you knew just as the sun was setting 

you didn’t know when your last sunset would be with chan but this wasn’t your last one

because chan always was home and always will be home

your home 

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

my gif take with creds!!

well this took me decades to finish hope you guys enjoyed my first angsty fic on this blog and let me know whether you prefer me writing angst, fluff or both!! it was a slow burn and kinda cliche with lots of cheese and i hate love triangles but it just kinda turned into one so forgive me. also thank you to my absolute queen ruby @changbeanie for giving me the motivation and advice to actually keep on writing this fic cause lol was ready to give up on this fic at least 10 times cause of writers block. and thank you to my lovely and cute bub anna @chenle for helping me with the messiest ending i’ve ever written. seungmin au coming up soon!!

as always don’t be afraid to leave me a message, a request or an anon!!! i always love hearing from you guys and getting your thoughts, feelings and feedback!!

⋆ ──────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ──────── ⋆

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Lullaby For A Stallion (Cowgirl AU)

It was just before dawn, Sunday morning, a week after the first race, and Joan Meutas was sneaking out of the house. She laughed at herself- if Bessie caught her like this, she’d be likely to think she’d been out all night and was sneaking back in. For once, she actually got a good night’s sleep because she wanted to be energized when she went out on the range by sunrise. Today was all hers, for herself, and she’d chosen to spend it in the fields with her horse.

Her horse.

She grinned as she stepped into the stable area and called in a singsong voice to her partner in crime, who replied with a snort and peeked out of his stall.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” Joan cooed, patting the stallion’s soft nose. “And good morning to you, too, Listener.”

Unlike her brother, the dapple grey filly didn’t react. Instead, she just stood with her head sticking out of her stall, blinking at Joan. Joan blinked back, then shrugged and returned her attention to her horse.

“I hope you’re ready to do some riding today.” Joan said, grabbing one of the halters from the hooks on the wall, “We are professional riders now! So we need to keep up on training!”

Blazer pawed at the ground. He whickered deep in his throat, a contented sound that also managed to sound somehow curious.

“Yes, we’re racers now.” Joan answered to the question she thought he was asking. She raised the halter into the air and held it there. The horse sniffed the air, then stepped forward slowly until he could stretch out his neck and just reach it. He snuffled at it, but since Joan had taken the precaution of rubbing it against her body so it would have a familiar smell on it, the horse just snorted and shook his head, sending his mane flying.

Joan raised a hand, but didn’t try to touch him. Blazer’s ears twitched, pricked to the front, a quick twist back towards the wall, then to the front again. He nuzzled Joan’s hand, shifting his head around so that Joan’s fingers were on what had turned out to be a favorite spot for a rub. Joan obliged, and Blazer dropped his eyelids and almost dozed for a moment.

Joan could barely breathe, but she forced the air in and out, in and out. Delight bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, but she kept it pushed down. She had to remain calm.

Left hand rubbing behind Blazer’s ear, she ran her right, still holding the rope, down the horse’s neck and along his back. She murmured soft, soothing words, nothing that would have made sense to anyone listening, but a language they both understood. She ran her hand back up to Blazer’s head, and prepared to slip the rope over his nose. Blazer threw his head up and stepped back, then forward, through the open gate with a huff.

In a heartbeat, without really thinking, Joan dropped the rope and grabbed hold of the thick mane. Blazer tensed, and Joan jumped. The horse leapt forward, and Joan went with him, sliding belly down over the withers, then she got one leg over and pulled herself upright. It was a darn-fool move, and Joan knew it, but the stallion was moving full out now, and there was no way to get down. Nor did she want to.

Blazer and Joan burst from the stables.

The gallop was smooth, with springy power from his hindquarters that Joan easily adjusted to, even bareback (god her thighs and tailbone were going to ache later, though). They were headed to the cow pasture, and Joan felt as well as heard the clarion call of a mighty stallion. The cows lifted their heads first and began to move, calves bleated their anger at the sudden interruption of their meal but trotted alongside, and the bull started circling, looking for whatever threat had gotten this stallion riled.

Taking hold of his mane, Joan guided Blazer to swerve towards the nearest heifer. The blonde bovine looked up at them curiously, lowed, then padded forward.

The stallion circled the group, running faster than Joan would have believed. She leaned forward, keeping her balance with ease, her legs an iron band around Blazer’s girth. She could feel the powerful muscles bunching and releasing, the heat and sweat leaching through her pants, searing her skin.

The cow herd was galloping, yet Blazer ran faster. He twisted to the right, to the left, his body never straight. Joan felt like she was riding a wild, plunging river, a torrent that tossed her, battered her, until she hardly knew where she was.

They were headed for an opening in the rocks that led to a canyon, but a calf missed the entrance and dashed to the left. Seeing this as a good chance to practice more of his maneuverability, Joan had Blazer take off after it, which nearly unseated her in the process, but she had her hands locked with fistfuls of mane and was able to pull herself back. When they reached the calf, Blazer slid to a stop on his haunches and Joan was banged against his neck, then nearly slid to the ground. Before she could situate herself, Blazer was in motion again, his jaws nipping at the calf’s heels and driving the youngster back towards the herd. The calf slipped, then got her feet under her and raced toward her mother, and Blazer turned again to the back of the herd. Joan hung on with the sure knowledge that if she fell onto the rocks at this speed, she’d never survive. Head whirling, nausea twisting her stomach, she grabbed hold of more mane.

Blazer pushed past the herd to take the lead, and plunged down the banks of a small stream. Water splashed in all directions, blessed coolness soaking them and seeming to take the fire from Blazer’s eyes. He slowed to a canter, then a jog. Exhausted, Joan lost what was left of her balance and fell off.

—————

She came out of darkness to the squeal of cattle and the discovery that she was wet. The sound of hooves thundered by and dust choked her as she tried to drag herself to her feet. She ached all over and she knew she’d feel worse tomorrow, but, oh, God, it had been worth it. She looked around and saw that she’d landed in the stream which, fortunately for her, wasn’t very deep. Cows were milling around, restlessly tossing their heads, snorting, stamping, stirring up dust to the point she couldn’t see more than a few feet. She whistled low and long and heard Blazer whinny in answer, but the horse didn’t come to him.

Then, she realized she could hear the creak of saddles and the swish of ropes in the air. She looked around wildly and found there were four horsemen surrounding the little herd, one of them, a big man on a buckskin, getting ready to cast a rope toward Blazer. Without thinking, she waded out of the stream and stomped over to him.

“Hey!” Joan called out. “That’s my horse!”

The man jerked, and his lariat fell short. Joan notices that it’s Thomas. Culpeper and two men Joan didn’t recognize were at his sides.

“He belongs to whoever catches him,” Thomas said, and started to build his loop again.

“You saw me race with him a week ago!! He’s mine!”

One of the other men laughed. “I don’t see no rope on him. Hey Thomas, this kid thinks she’s got a rope on that horse.”

“I’m telling you, I’ve been working with him for over a six months now, and he’s mine.”

Thomas kneed his horse- the majestic black hole that was SheBeast- around to face her. “You been workin’ this horse for two weeks, he should be in a corral by now with a saddle on him. I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying, I just choose a better way of breaking a horse than you use.”

Thomas rode up to her, then stepped down off his horse. “You’re that snot-nosed, little runt who beat Culpeper, aren’t you?”

Joan stood her ground. “And if I am?”

Thomas walked slowly around her, and Joan turned to keep him in sight.

“Seems to me you forgot how things are done out here. Seems to me you don’t remember how a horse belongs to the man who catches him. Hear that? A mean. Little girls like you aren’t meant to ride.”

“I’ve been training him every day, down at Silver Bass Farm. That’s where he’s been living, he and his sister, and he belongs to me.”

Thomas took his time and gazed around the canyon. “Well, we ain’t on Silver Bass now, girl, and you don’t got a brand on him, so I say that makes him fair game. Since I’m the one with the rope, I’ll be the one takin’ him home.”

Joan stepped forward until there was no more than a foot between them and said through gritted teeth, “No. He’s mine.”

Suddenly she felt a loop drop over her head. She tried to raise her arms, but it tightened around her chest, and then she was yanked off her feet. Even with the wind knocked out of her, she knew she had to get the coil off. It loosened for just for a moment, and she grabbed it and got one arm out. A second yank on the rope spun her off-balance and she fell to one knee but managed to get it off the rest of the way.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Thomas standing over her.

“Give it up, kid, while you’re ahead.”

“No,” She gasped.

Thomas grabbed her shirt and dragged her to her feet. “Give it up and go home!”

Joan just glared at him. “No.”

Thomas’ fist came out of nowhere, and Joan felt like a rock hit her on the side of the face. Dizzy, she would have fallen if not for Thomas’ grip on her. She swiped at her mouth, felt wetness on her hand.

“He’s mine,” She said, and sank a fist in the big man’s gut.

Thomas took her to the ground when he fell. Joan landed hard, but tried to roll away. Thomas still had a fist twined in her shirt, though, and the fabric tore as she broke away. She scrambled to her feet and saw Thomas getting up. She launched herself at him, landing a right and a left in his stomach, but then Thomas broke through her guard and shot one through to her belly that laid her flat on her back. Gasping for air, she saw Blazer rising on his hind legs, two ropes around his neck, held between two of Thomas’ riders.

Then she caught a swift glimpse of a boot, tried to jerk away, and her head exploded.

———————

Joan.

She felt a touch on her shoulder.

Joan, wake up, sweetheart.

The voice was soft, insistent. She felt a familiar palm rest on her forehead, then slip down to cup her sore cheek. Her breath came out a quiet moan.

“That’s it, honey. Time to come back to us.”

She didn’t want to wake up. She ached everywhere and her head was pounding, but it was too late now to slip back into the darkness. She raised a hand to press against her eyes, but Bessie- she knew her by her touch as much as by her voice- pressed it back down.

“Leave that alone for now. Can you look at me?”

The light was blinding until a shadow moved over her. She pried her eyes open to see Bessie’s face hovering over her, blotting the fluorescent lights from view.

“Is she gonna be okay?” She heard Maggie ask.

“Joan?”

She tried to swallow, but her throat was parched. Her eyes closed themselves against her will- she was so tired.

“Give me the cup, Maggie then go get some painkillers. I don’t think Joan is going to feeling too well for awhile.”

She felt cool glass at her lips, then water touched them. She opened her mouth, wincing against the soreness, but the water felt so good, cooling her throat, that she didn’t mind the ache.

“That’s it,” Bessie murmured. “Just a sip more.”

She opened her eyes again and this time saw his Maggie’s worried face next to Bessie’s.

“‘m okay,” She croaked.

“That’s as may be,” Said Bessie with a touch of asperity.

Joan looked at her, saw a faint thread of anger touch her expression before it went back to worry. She struggled to sit up, gasping at her stiff, painful muscles.

“What happened?” She asked, head spinning.

“You must’ve taken a tumble off that horse. Catherine said she found you unconscious in the fields and brought you back here, but she ran off on Whispers before she could really explain.“ Bessie’s touch was gentle as she helped Joan into a sitting position, even if her voice was starting to rise. “I warned you about working with a stallion, that they were dangerous, especially that one, and yet you went off on your own.”

She was working herself up into a fine fit, not that Joan really blamed her.

“And here you are, bucked off and knocked out and who knows what all else wrong with you!”

“No—” She swayed, grabbed onto Bessie’s arm. “Not Blazer’s fault.”

Bessie steadied her. “I know, a good horsewoman doesn’t blame the horse for acting true to his nature. But, darling, you should have waited until we had him into a corral before you tried to ride him.”

“Didn’t plan it- just happened,” She muttered. “Should’ve gotten him home somehow. Shouldn’t have left him on the range...” She groaned. “Oh, Bessie, what am I gonna do?”

“You’re going to sit right there or lie down and spend the next couple days in bed until I’m convinced you’re well.”

Joan looked up, aghast. “I can’t, Bessie- I gotta find him. Gotta find him and get him back.”

“Back?” Bessie thundered. “You’re not to go near that horse again. I won’t hear of it. He nearly killed you, kicking you in the ribs and the head, and you want to try again?”

Joan shook her head furiously. The world was beginning to fade out and she had trouble putting her thoughts together.

“You don’t understand,” She said, working herself up. “I gotta— gotta find him– gotta get him back—” Her stomach cramped and she balled up around it with a small cry.

“Just rest.” Bessie gathered her into her arms, calm again in the face of her young jockey’s distress. “We can talk it over later.”

Joan tried once more to tell Bessie what had really happened, but the pain in her heart and all of her body aches and bruises finally caught up to her, and she gave in to the darkness.

———————

Joan missed church that evening. That was fine with her, as her murderous mood was completely incompatible with any kind of spiritual communion. She figured God would understand, and she could say whatever prayers she wanted from her bed as well as in a pew. Bessie had taken Maria and Maggie only after Joan repeatedly told her that she’d be fine- nothing was broken after all. She assured Bessie that she intended to spend the rest of the day sleeping or, at the most, reading; that she wouldn’t try to get dressed and go to the house (her room was actually in the barn loft, separated from everyone else) until they were home again; and finally, that she had the animals to yell at her if she even tried to get out of bed. She really didn’t need the others to hang around waiting on her.

She had breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left. Maria and Maggie had pestered her unmercifully, Maggie in wide-eyed wonder at Maria’s description of Aragon showing up with her unconscious body, both of them wanting more details than her headache could stand. Bessie was concerned for her health, of course, but Joan could see the upcoming lecture in her eyes. She really was too tired to explain it all right now- she’d suffered beatings before and not been so debilitated, but the ride on Blazer had worn her out first.

She remembered the ride with mingled pleasure and pain. The stallion was magnificent. He was fast, powerful, smart, and it seemed he could run forever. He was quick on his feet, too, considering how big he was.

But these thoughts just led Joan back to a brooding depression. Bessie thought she ought to leave well enough alone- there were other horses she could have. She should just forget Blazer.

How could Bessie say that? What was her problem with Blazer? He was Joan’s partner! If it were her horse, Speakeasy, wouldn’t she want to get her back?

What can I do? Was the refrain that went around and around in Joan’s mind. She simply could not leave the stallion in Thomas’ hands.

She turned onto her side and bunched her pillow so it didn’t press against her sore jaw. And what was her horse suffering even now while she lay here? Bessie was experienced in the ways of the world, a wise woman who’d learned many lessons the hard way- they all knew this, all knew she was troubled and had hidden pain of her own, but did her best to repress it. She advised Joan, after she had woken up an hour earlier, to move on, to find another horse rather than go track Blazer down and be brutalized once again. It would be the best thing to do.

But Joan didn’t want the “best thing”.

She wanted her horse.

She wrenched the covers off and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Her muscles protested and her head swam, but she forced herself not to give in to her weakness. She had to get well, and do it fast. As wise as Bessie’s advice might be, it was wrong. She couldn’t leave the horse in Thomas’ hands. Even if she had to let Blazer go, it would be better than letting him be broken while she sat up here in her room nursing her bruises. She had a moment’s hesitation over her promises to Bessie. Hadn’t she just been thinking that she was willing to be guided by the woman’s wisdom? She knew, though, that this was the right thing to do.

Bessie would just have to get over it.

She was stiff and sore- oh, was she sore!- but she could get around. She could live with his aching muscles, but she dearly wished they’d loosen up.

Joan hauled herself up and staggered down the stairs of the barn loft. Quietly, as if she thought the animals would rat her out, she crept over to the horse area and peeked into Listener’s stall. The filly’s ears were flicking back and forth and she bounded towards the door when the girl appeared.

“Come on, girl,” Joan whispered, “We gotta go get your brother.”

Listener snorted and Joan opened the gate. She couldn’t bother with a saddle right now, it would waste precious time, so she leapt onto Listener’s back without one. Her thighs and groin cried in pain, the rigidity of the mare’s spine digging into her vagina like a saw, but she ignored it.

Listener took off down the road once off of the Silver Bass land. Her hooves clacked loudly on the asphalt as she sprinted down to King’s Hill Farm where Thomas lived. As they approached, Joan heard the furious squeal of a horse. She directed Listener to run right through the front gate and skidded to a halt at the rails of a training corral.

It wasn’t Blazer.

It was SheBeast.

Her head was snubbed to the top of a fence post by a heavy bridle, back weighed by a roping saddle with both girths fastened tight under her belly, one back leg tied up to the girths. As Joan watched, horrified, the horse lost her balance and fell, held only by the bridle. Her front hooves raked at the post and the rails, her eyes rolled white in their sockets, and bloody froth spattered from her mouth.

“That’ll teach you!” Cried Thomas, whip in hand. He headed for the horse, but Joan was off Listener, over the fence, and on him before he got two steps in. She didn’t even bother to try talking to him, just knocked him flat and started hitting. The jaw first, to try to knock him out. She got in two blows before Thomas rolled out from under her, but the man was dazed. He took a swing at Joan, but missed, and Joan drove in again with a hard left to the belly followed by another right to the jaw. This time when Thomas went down, he didn’t get up.

Joan turned her back on him and faced the men who stood on the other side of the corral. Nobody moved to help under her fierce glare. She wiped at the corner of her mouth where it had split open and said, “Get her out of here.”

“But miss,” Said someone she didn’t know, “that’s his horse. He’s got a right to break it how he sees fit.”

The rage built up inside. Joan desperately wanted to save the Beast, but she had to know where Blazer was first.

“Where’s my horse?” Joan snarled, whirling around to face Thomas, who was starting to get up.

“I didn’t take your fucking horse!” Thomas spat, “It ran off before we could get it restrained!”

Joan grit her teeth and stomped back to Listener. As she did so, she heard Thomas growl, “You’ll pay for this, little girl. I’m going to make you bleed.”

Tears stung Joan’s eyes as she rode Listener home. Her Blaze was out in the wild somewhere, alone and probably so scared. He could be anywhere.

As Silver Bass came into view, Joan had to suppress a groan when she saw Bessie, Maria, and Maggie, along with Aragon and her jockeys out in front of the house. She was only gone for half an hour- how did Bessie already manage to gather a search party for her?

“Joan Morgan Meutas!” Bessie roared as Joan rode up to the house.

She was in for it now.

“I told you to stay in bed! I told you to rest and not go near another horse! I told you to take it easy, and what do you do? You bareback the sister of the stallion who mauled you!”

Joan knew Bessie had no ill intent with her words, she just got like this when she was worried, but her grief was turning to anger by the second. She sniffled and took a shaky breath as she slid off of Listener’s back, nearly collapsing because of her wounds and the fresh pain in her thighs.

“I had to.” She whispered.

“You ‘had to’?” Bessie said.

“HE TOOK MY HORSE!”

The cry came out of nowhere. Even Joan was startled, but the shock went away when the words continued to pour out of her mouth.

“Thomas- I was- I was riding Blazer and laid down to take a nap and when I woke up Thomas was there and he said because I didn’t have a halter on Blazer, that he could take him. He hurt me! He knocked me out, not Blazer! A-and now-” Her bottom lip started to quiver as a small sob escaped her, “And now he’s gone. He’s out there somewhere a-and I don’t know where he is and I- I want him back.” Her voice broke on that final word and she collapsed to her knees, weeping.

Surprisingly, it was Aragon who went down to her side first, then Maria. Without thinking, Joan clung to Aragon, as Maria set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I want my Blaze back,” Joan sobbed into Aragon’s chest. She felt the woman rub her back slowly.

“We’ll find him, sweetheart.” Aragon assured her.

“That bastard,” Cleves spat. “Horse stealing. What a low for Thomas.”

“Not beyond him, though. Or Henry.” Anne added with just as much anger as the other jockey.

“I miss him.” Joan wept, gripping tightly to the back of Aragon’s shirt. “What if- what if he doesn’t come back?”

“Shh,” Aragon hushed her, smoothing out her hair, “Don’t think like that, darling. We’ll find him.”

“He means the world to me, Miss Aragon,” Joan whispered, trembling in the horse trainer’s arms. “He and Listener. They-” Her voice lowers, taking on deeper and darker undertones when she murmurs, “they saved me.”

Before that could be explored, however, a commotion broke out in the nearby cattle pasture. The cows were lowing wildly and, against the backdrop of the colorful nearly fully set sun, an equine shape could be seen leaping over the fence before continuing to charge around madly.

“Blazer!!” Joan shrieked, jumping to her feet. She took off without a second thought and found that the black-speckled stallion was, in fact, her Blaze.

The horse jerked his head around and his eyes were alight with pain and fear. When Joan got closer, he tried to rise up and kick at her, but the girl quickly stopped.

“Hey, big guy, remember me?” Joan whispered, holding her hands out where Blazer could see them, “We’ve been friends a long time. I’ve never hurt you, and I’m gonna fix you up in no time.”

Blazer just rolled his eyes at her and neighed wildly.

Joan moved closer to the horse’s haunches, bunched and sweaty. The flaming chestnut coat was muted to black with wet, even in the cool twilight November air. She could smell the tang, caught up in the dust that swirled around them.

Blazer was pacing back and forth, then began jerking his head at Joan, driving her backwards towards the house. His long back legs kept stamping- the hooves were deadly.

Joan didn’t believe that Blazer would deliberately try to hurt her, but she knew the horse wasn’t really aware of exactly who was around him.

Maybe...

She started to sing the same lullaby she’d soothed the horse with before. She kept her voice soft on the haunting melody:

Hush-a-bye

Don’t you cry

Go to sleepy, little baby

Blazer shifted restlessly, snorting and flaring his nostrils in agitation. The horses near the house made noises in response, but Joan ignored them.

When you wake

You shall have

All the pretty little horses...

Tears streamed down Joan’s face as she gently cupped Blazer’s big, warm cheeks. She looked up into his smoldering hazel eyes and he stared back at her.

Blacks and bays,

Dapples and greys,

All the pretty little horses...

Blazer dipped his head low and pressed it into Joan’s chest, letting his eyes droop shut. Joan is frozen for a moment before sobbing and hugging tightly to her horse, burying her face in his mane. Even when her knees gave out and she fell to the ground, Blazer craned his neck down further to stay in her familiar grasp.

“I thought I lost you,” Joan hiccuped, “Oh, Blazer...I missed you so much...”

Blazer huffs against her chest, almost like he was saying he missed her, too.

After eight hours, the girl and her Blaze were reunited.

———————

Bessie walked over to Joan, who was watching Blazer munch happily on oats and alfalfa, just standing with her for a moment.

“What did you mean when you said he and Listener saved you?”

Surprised, Joan looked over at Bessie.

“Oh,” She said shyly. “There was a rattlesnake in here. Nearly bit me, but then Blazer started neighing and Listener completely pummeled it.”

Bessie nodded and looked back at the stallion.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” She said, “And I’m sorry for how I treated him. I was just worried. He’s a crazy horse, but I trust you. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

Joan smiles slightly, but didn’t say anything.

Bessie hesitated, then reached over to wrap an arm around Joan. The girl rests her head on her shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’s no problem, lovely.” Bessie told her. She kissed the top of Joan’s head and then pulled away. “Get some rest soon, okay? I left a heating pad and some painkillers up in your room for you.”

“Thank you, Bessie.”

Bessie smiled then walked out of the barn. However, that smile disappears once her back is turned to Joan.

Rattlesnakes didn’t live in England.

[thisnerdsadventures]

the last two weeks

Just two weeks ago, my friends and I went out to Yamato’s for the first time. 

It was sponsored by our dorm, so we racked up a nearly $1000 bill. We had a great time, but the end of our brunch came, and a few of us took a walk to the common for a Bernie rally, and the others went to the BPL to study. Afterwards, we all wound back on campus, and went about our Saturday doing the usual psetting. The current source of stress was the cup of grapes situation that spiraled wildly out of control, but in hindsight, it seems so inconsequential now. Eleven days ago, my friend and I went to Harvard for the day to decompress from everything. It was a beautiful day - the sun was out, we were wearing our light jackets. We went for ramen for lunch, shopped at a shoe store, and searched hopelessly for hand sanitizer. I had promised to work on my UROP but felt I deserved a day off, as I had been working tirelessly for a while. We walked around, taking it all in, I talked about how I was excited for our dinner on Friday and going to Michigan later in April for a conference. It looked like things might get better. The next day, the rumbling started. Harvard sent an email forbidding international travel. We had heard of the situation intensifying in Italy, but we were still nervously waiting to see what would happen. There were crisis-related rumblings on top of the usual school stress and all the things that had not gone well this semester, and just like that, the next day, MIT took it a step further and cancelled all large major events and banned international travel.

This was the first shock. Just earlier that day, I argued with my friend about her decision to back out of our spring break Spain trip due to coronavirus concerns. But now, five hours later, I sat on the ground in my friend's room as the shock passed over me. Every group chat was nonstop. What about CPW? What about Senior Ball? What about Springfest? Our spring break plans were definitely in the gutter now. Every question sent chills and dread down my spine. I heard someone ask whether commencement would still happen, and I cracked, not being able to face this eventuality that I prayed wouldn't happen. The rest of the day was gone, lost to the questions and stress and emails that ensued from this notification. But there were still personal conflicts. Personal problems, academic stress bubbling up to the surface for weeks, and it was coming to a head. Our dinner just over a week ago nearly didn't happen, but luckily a few of us still went to Harvard for a wonderful time. Our conversations surrounded how Harvard followed our footsteps just a day later on cancelling major events and how changes were so drastic. We contemplated whether the policy would be extended and whether our summer plans would be affected, but decided that that was too far in the future to worry about. So we ran across Harvard in the 30 degree night, snow falling from the sky, enjoying our time, not knowing what was to come. I spent what would be the last weekend preparing for a case. I prepped nonstop and thought I did really well on it in class, just this past Monday. It was a beautiful Monday, we biked to Panda Express with nothing but light jackets and we wished that every day could be like that, feeling like summer had come early in Boston. The situation outside was worsening, and we were watching closely to see what would happen. My friends from LA were trying to convince me to go to San Diego with them for a couple days now that my Spain trip was definitely cancelled. Over Twitter, we found out Princeton closed first, demanding it's undergraduates not come back from break, but i went to bed that Monday early, to prepare for a full day of research to come Tuesday, as my Tuesdays usually go, unblocked to make progress on my research. When I woke up Tuesday, there was something wrong. I knew from the blast of notifications from every group chat on every social media account I owned. My Harvard chat was 100+ messages deep by 9:30am from their closure and eviction of undergraduate students. I sat up immediately in bed and opened the other group chats, trembling. Another group of my friends were already organizing storage and coordinating travel ideas in the case that we would also be following suit after Harvard. 

I dashed to my computer to access all the other texts and call my dad, who was still awake in Taiwan. He told me to calm down and to wait. But just 30 minutes later, a screenshot leaked, confirming our worst fears - we would also be leaving campus in just a week, moving out for the semester. all classes would be online. My stomach dropped. In my attendance-based class, 2/3 of the class was present, and most were on their phone, checking for updates. We all anxiously waited the rumored 1pm email that would make it official. Everyone knew at this point, and seniors were feeling it all now, the shock, the grief, the celebration already of 4 years on campus. My friends and I cracked open a bottle of wine and took pictures on Killian with the hundreds of other students partying until 5pm. At 5pm though, the email released. It was official. All undergraduates were to move out in a week.

My floor exploded - flights frantically booked. What about storage? I called my mom and she was on it - Sunday afternoon flight booked, same one as my friend. And there was nothing to do except stare out the window of my friends room into the Boston skyline and finish off my wine bottle. And like many of my graduating peers, I realized that my senior year was done, and that I had not even a week to say goodbye to my home and to my friends. I started sobbing, nonstop. I hadn't cried like this since high school. My head of house started up a video call to the whole dorm, and hearing them talk logistics made me cry harder, and when I thought I stopped, I checked my phone and found an email from my professor berating the administration and acknowledging our irreplaceable loss. I cried again, harder. would commencement happen? Even if it did, my dad wouldn't be able to fly into the country. I continued to sob at the thought. After two hours, I eventually found my way to my friends bed where I fell asleep next to her until dinner, and with my eyes no longer swollen from tears, I wandered down to the dining hall with them. We saw other seniors, who had also been crying, judging from the redness in their eyes and cracks in their voices. The pain felt numb for me at this point. My friends stuck around for a bit, and we played some video games. No one on the floor was working, as we all had too much going on in our heads. The house team worked tirelessly to organize storage, and few of us slept that night. We stayed up chatting in the lobby about our families and going home and afterwards lied in our beds, sleepless, staring at the ceiling. The next day, I had just one class to go to, as large classes had been cancelled already. The campus was buzzing with yesterday's events. And in that class, we said our parting goodbyes, and many of us teared up yet again. But we laughed so hard too in that class, as we shared stories from our case just two days ago and for a moment, we forgot our pain. We took a class photo before we parted ways. After class, we lined up for an hour, each and every student, to personally thank our professor. 

My senior friends and I shared many meals together, and we parted, saying we'd see each other once again before we left. I watched my best friend take her swim test and watched as giant friend groups of other seniors came and cheered on their friends, fulfilling their last graduation requirement. To watch everyone support each other in these trying times brought warmth to my heart. I went home and ate dinner with my floor family, as we sat on the windowsills and drank boba and ate grilled cheeses. I was exhausted though, so I planned to go to bed at midnight, but I received a message from my best friend - she no longer was leaving on Monday, she was leaving in just eight hours.

I ran to maseeh and helped her pack until 5am. We packed up her curtains and I held her as she cried because she thought her parents were going to help her pack up her last year, just as they helped her screw in her curtains at the beginning of the year. I helped her store her stuff in the student center and we threw out bounties of trash and food. After I left, I knew with a sinking feeling that I wouldn't see her again for a while. And she cried a few more times and left early Thursday morning. When I woke up, she was gone. So I started cleaning and packing. The first boxes arrived in the green living room. In cleaning out my room, I found stuff from my first days of freshman year, my 8.02 exams, my chemistry notes, old electronics projects hidden away in boxes. And it was finally the end of my road, and so it was time to say goodbye to them. I spent so long mindlessly throwing stuff out, I had forgotten to leave McCormick until I finally went down to the lobby to hang out. And I hung out there for two hours, talking to everyone and anyone. I did a boba order for the ballerz, and my floor did yet another free dinner, so we once again ate together, laughing over the copious amount of free food on the kitchen table. Five or six of us returned to chatting and laughing about studying at home with family around in someone's room. A friend of mine invited us over to play Smash at BC, so we went and played a couple rounds. We returned to slowly packing until 11pm.

Things had been looking ok, as my dorm had dropped large amounts of money in buying everyone nice food. But when everyone received the emergency message from MIT telling us to leave by Sunday instead of Tuesday on Thursday night, the dorm exploded. Group chats started going off endlessly, with rumors of students already being sick or being quarantined on campus. I ran to my friends room, where she was already on the phone with her family, rebooking her flight for Saturday. "Just two days?" I thought to myself. "Not even two days I have left now with her and everyone and this home." She hung up the phone and started spilling rumors of Boston Logan closing on Monday. I melted to the floor, having a full panic attack. The dorm’s chat, another dorm’s chat, and every friend group chat started inciting even more fear and panic with each additional rumor. My ears were buzzing and my vision was blurring as I continued sitting on the floor. GRAs were woken up and started doing rounds on each floor, even though it was well past midnight at this point, to check on all the residents, many of whom were gathered in clusters around the floor. I went downstairs to talk to my GRA when I received a text from my friend. Chills ran down my back - "California might shut down within 24-48 hours." I did the math. The flight I rescheduled to just an hour ago was in 45 hours on Saturday afternoon. I felt another panic attack creeping up on me, so I ran off to talk to my friend. I went back up to my floor, where people were still yelling in the kitchen. She was off to the side, frantically still talking on the phone. Once I had calmed down a bit, I pulled her aside and told her about these messages, and she confirmed them in another group chat, showing me essentially a screenshot of a screenshot of a message in an unnamed group hat. Speechless, I stood in the hallway with her facing me. I guess she didn't know what else to do but hug me and reassure me it would be ok, because we had hit the point of simply not knowing what to do but say "I'm so sorry" to each other, as if it would ease the pain. I stayed up till 4:30am packing. My other friend called me, imploring me to change my flight to Friday, just 12 hours from then. I asked her bluntly, acknowledging my lack of family around the country - "if I can't go home, where am I supposed to go?" She promised I could stay with her in Texas and I stared back in disbelief, that we would reach this point of possibility that we would have no place to go, but that people would be so nice to open their homes to others who simply had no other place to go. I stared at my hopelessly unpacked room, the half consumed cider on the desk, and my sheer exhaustion, which had been kept awake by adrenaline. I called my mom again, who I'm sure was also was sleepless and asked whether our neighbor had also changed her flight. She said she didn't know whether they were able to change it. The next morning, two people woke me up two different times. Early in the morning, I fought for laundry machines and finished up most of my packing. That afternoon, I hung out in the lobby with my friends again and screamed out the window on a beautiful day as we blasted BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY into the courtyard. My dorm had a senior sendoff, complete with a senior gift and confetti, and a walk to Pomp and Circumstance, which was touching, considering we might not get commencement at the end of the year. But having everyone there to celebrate our little community and watch us walk to receive our fake diplomas and take senior pictures meant a lot to me.

Shortly after, I went up to the penthouse to watch the sunset for the last time. I had watched so many sunsets on top of that rooftop, as it was my goto spot when things went wrong. And things had never quite gone so wrong as this time. I looked at Fenway, where I went to my first Red Sox game, and Prudential, where my favorite gelato place is, and over to the right where BU is, where my friends and I run along the Esplanade. Every building, I could pin a memory. I watched the cars run down the bridge, where my friend and I pulled an all-nighter and watched the most beautiful sunrise. I watched the river slowly churn along and thought about how much I would miss seeing this every day. To think that just two weeks ago we had been yelling at each other about taking grapes out of the dining hall, that we were angry at each other for doing A or not doing B or saying C, all these problems were so inconsequential now. When you have just a few days left with the people you love, you remember that being around them and laughing and smiling with them is the most important thing, bottom line. I wrote letters to my friends to thank them for being them and sealed them into envelopes for the next day, and returned downstairs to store my stuff in the storage pod and eat dinner. Afterwards, we lied on our bare mattresses and laughed until 2am. My friend returned from maseeh also late that night, her eyes red from saying goodbye to her senior friends. I said good night and see you tomorrow, for what would be the last time for a while. That last morning, I said goodbye to so many people. It didn't really feel like goodbye, or maybe it hasn't set in yet. I watched my first friend leave in her Uber, and I hung out with my other friend until she left just an hour before me. And then it was my turn to leave, as I said goodbye to all the GRAs and my area director, promising I'd be back. And I took that one last walk out the front door. Halfway down the driveway, I took one last look back at the building I called home for four years, a place that had changed so much since I entered it four years ago, but has also changed me so much too. I thought about where I met my friends for the first time, the midnight piano in the GLR, the many nights spent talking until late night in 4 and 5 west. But the car was waiting, so I turned back to my ride to the airport, and I gave my friend one last hug and watched her wave as I drove away, down Memorial Drive, one last time.