#Me: I can survive without wifi for a few days! It's fine!

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

-

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

[jeonsjiddies]

Lying That You Love Me | myg (m)

Summary - Upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running. You never could have imagined Min Yoongi would be the one to put your pieces back together, but there is always more than meets the eye.

Word Count - 10.5k

Pairing - Yoongi x reader

Genre - smut, minor angst

Warnings - mentions of broken family, family issues, mentions of homelessness, softdom!yoongi, dirty talk, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (female)

a/n - Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! 💕 Sorry it’s soooo late, I sprained my wrist lol. Hope you enjoy now that it’s finally here! Huge thanks to @nervouskiwi​ , @sunshinekims​ , and @excusemin​ for beta reading.  💕

You know those people you just instantly connect with? You hear their laugh one time and suddenly you feel more connected to a stranger than a friend you've known your whole life? Something in their smile that resonates deep within your soul, that somehow, on some level (whether it be friends or lovers or a kind stranger who changed your life in passing only to never meet again) you are just... meant to find each other. 

Those people who feel like sunshine on your cloudy days? The ones who wrap you in warmth and make your heart say "Ah, yes, so this is what home is supposed to feel like. This is what it means to belong. This is what it means to be myself, unafraid."

Somehow, amidst all the chaos and the heartbreak and the hurt, you find yourself cocooned in safety, building your own version of home with these strangers who feel like family; and it's good.  And sometimes your heart beats so fast and your chest feels so tight and you feel like you just can't breathe, so you reach out a hand into the dark unknown and you're met with arms wrapping around you and holding you together. Holding you until all your broken pieces can be glued back together, one by one.

Min Yoongi was one of those people. 

Now, upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. He looked more like someone who was one wrong look away from tearing you to shreds. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running.

But you… you were a little different. You’d taken one look at the man covered in intricate inky designs and your face had lit up with glee. A few hours prior to meeting Yoongi, you’d been sitting in your car, reclined back with your phone, leeching off of McDonald’s free wifi for the 11th night in a row. Your back ached, your stomach growled, and your foot was one more cramp away from being the end of you. The tiny cabin of your car was no place for you to live.

You scrolled through rental listings, looking for the cheapest option that didn’t look like it popped straight out of a horror movie. Your budget was low, being recently thrown out by your father after a fight about you dropping out of college. Your father was convinced you couldn’t survive on your own and you wanted to prove him wrong.

Finally stumbling upon a small 2 bedroom apartment on the west side of town leasing out the second bedroom, you clicked on the listing. There was no way you’d be able to afford your own apartment in a safe area, so you’d ended up expanding your search to find someone looking for a roommate. You zoomed in on the pictures provided, though there were few, it looked pretty nice. You scrolled down and read the description.

Single male, 27, searching for a roommate. You pay half the rent and utilities. Rent is $950 and utilities usually range about $300 a month, give or take. Pets welcome, but there is a deposit with the apartment complex and a monthly fee. My friend (and ex roommate) recently moved in with his long-time girlfriend and I need someone to help with expenses. Serious inquiries only. Contact for more info. 555-555-1382.

You quickly typed the number into your phone and texted the man to set up a time to view the apartment, but if you were being honest with yourself, you were already sold. This was the cleanest looking unit you’d seen, on a safe side of town, and it was more affordable than anything else you were going to get that was half as nice.

The man was quick with responses and very polite, and the two of you agreed to meet that evening at 4pm. You were absolutely giddy, a petty smirk on your face as you imagined telling your father that you indeed weren’t coming home, tail between your legs. You would not allow him to dictate your life anymore.

3:30 rolled around and you made your way over to the area the apartment was listed in, not wanting to be late. The apartment was part of a large building that was clearly a few years old but still in good shape. You looked around, noting that the nearby houses were well-worn but not worn down. It looked like a good area, and based on your Trulia searches, the crime was low here. 

You smiled from your parking space and waited until 3:55 to walk up to the buzzer, hitting the button for apartment 5D which had Min Yoongi listed as a resident. Yoongi. You liked that name. You grinned when a deep voice came over the speaker, asking who was there.

“It’s Y/N, we have a 4pm appointment for me to see the apartment?” you answered back cheerily. 

“Oh, yes, come on up.” before he was even done speaking, you heard the door click as he unlocked it. 

You pulled open the heavy door and began making your way up the staircase, glancing around for the correct apartment. Near the end of the hallway, you finally spotted your destination, nestled in the corner by a large window that looked out to the rest of the apartment complex. There was a playground and a tennis court, without a net, but you didn’t really care. 

You gently knocked against the wooden door, the only one without some form of decoration on the outside and waited for the man to appear and let you inside. You weren’t sure what kind of person you expected to see on the other side of the wooden door; you really hadn’t given it much thought. You were entirely unprepared however, to see the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on swinging the door open and dusting his hands on his worn jeans before flicking his onyx gaze up to meet yours, pinning you to your spot.

You snapped out of your haze and allowed your eyes to roam over his features, from his button nose to his full lips, to his toned arms, covered with decorative tattoos, beautiful inky designs trailing from his knuckles all the way up his veiny forearms, past his biceps, and disappearing into the sleeve of his t shirt. You sucked in a breath, noticing the eyebrow ring and multiple ear piercings.

“Y/N, nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi.” he smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth, something shiny catching the light when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. A tongue ring.

A shiver ran through your body but you reached out your hand to shake his extended one. His large hand seemed to engulf yours, the veins prominent and a little distracting. Your face lit up in a grin, knowing that if your dad took one look at this man, he’d surely lose his mind.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Yoongi, thank you for meeting me on such short notice!” you smiled, allowing your hand to slip from his grasp and biting back the whine at the loss of contact.

“Come on in, have a look around. Like I said in the ad, my friend moved in with his girlfriend and left me to fend for myself. He did have the smaller bedroom but if that’s an issue, we can switch, if you’re interested that is.” he chuckled nervously, reaching his arm up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh, I am interested.” you giggled, looking around the spacey living room, which had an open concept that led into a small kitchen, but it looked like it had decent counter space. 

“Oh! This is the kitchen…” Yoongi began, leading you over to get a better look after seeing where your eyes were wandering. 

“It’s very roomy.” you noted with a smile.

“Jin did most of the cooking, but I helped out sometimes and we both fit in here pretty easily without getting in each other’s way.” he explained.

“Ooh, you cook?” you turned your gaze to him and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“A little.” he admitted.

“Nice. Me too.” you grinned. 

“Cool.” he grinned, his smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, the best way you could describe it was… gummy. Sweet. Warm.

Yoongi led you on a tour of the rest of the house, showing you your future bedroom, which was furnished since his previous roommate hadn’t needed to take his bed with him, his bedroom, the bathroom you’d share, and the small laundry unit in the hallway, hidden behind a closet-like door. Nice. In-unit laundry was a definite plus.

The apartment wasn’t super spacious, the bedrooms were on the smaller side, but the living room and kitchen were nice sizes, and there was in-unit laundry, and Yoongi seemed like a very clean, respectful individual. You were sold before you’d walked in, but now you were over the moon about the small patch of paradise you’d stumbled upon.

“Is there a deposit required? Or just first and last month's rent?” you asked Yoongi, who’d taken a seat across from you at the table.

“Oh, just the first month’s rent is fine. I’m not like a landlord or anything.” he said, shooting you a playful smile.

“Okay. Do you want a check or…?” you questioned. “I mean, if you’re willing to let me lease with you.” 

“Of course! Check, cash, money order. I really don’t have a preference. If you want a paper trail with the office, we can do a check or money order.” he smiled.

You grinned back at the sheepish man across from you, his eyes shining with excitement. You were absolutely psyched to sleep in a real bed again, so tired of the worn leather seats in your car. Thank goodness it wasn’t summer so your skin wasn’t sticking to the material, but still. It wasn’t exactly a preferred sleeping space.

You ended up going to the ATM and giving Yoongi cash for the first month after adding your name to the lease just before the rental office closed. You both pitched in on a celebratory pizza and ate in the living room. You were surprised the rental office didn’t have to run a background check or something, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to sleep in the apartment the same day you’d first laid eyes on it, but you weren’t complaining.

You stayed up with Yoongi until nearly 2am talking, drinking, laughing, and getting to know each other. He loved watching WWE, you loved watching K-dramas, he liked pineapple on his pizza and you thought that was basically blasphemy. Yoongi had braces growing up, had an older brother, preferred staying indoors to going out, and had a nasty habit he couldn’t seem to shake of biting his nails.

Yoongi was funny and warm and inviting. Though he seemed cold on the outside, he was actually very attentive and caring, always offering to refill your drink when he stood up, offering you a spare blanket if you looked cold, and making sure you felt comfortable as possible in your new home. You blamed it on the alcohol, but ended up getting way too personal too fast, telling Yoongi about why you’d moved in to begin with. 

“... and he’s so condescending and judgemental, like he would hate your tattoos and immediately label you a delinquent just based on that alone.” you took a breath after rambling on for a few minutes, letting out your frustration for your situation.

“Wow, that’s… a lot,” Yoongi shook his head sympathetically, “it’s your life, you should do what makes you happy. It’s not his place to control everything you do.” 

“He always has to be right, it’s exhausting.” you sighed.

“Well hey, bright side, you’re here now, and you’re free to be who you want and do whatever your heart desires. I fully support you.” Yoongi smiled at you and your heart seemed to grow three sizes. 

“Thank you, Yoongi. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Do you have anything you need washed?” you asked Yoongi, gesturing to the washing machine that wasn’t even half full. 

“Don’t you have any more clothes than that?” Yoongi asked.

For weeks, you’d been cycling the same three outfits you’d been able to bring with you in a small backpack when you’d left home.You’d thought about going back home to get the rest of your things, but you really didn’t want to face your father. You weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you’d love to rub it in his face that you hadn’t failed as he’d expected you to do. You just didn’t want to deal with him yet. 

Being around Yoongi, having the freedom to be yourself and being so wholly accepted for exactly who you were was intoxicating, and you weren’t ready to go back into that suffocating environment full of judgement and expectations, even for a short time. You were strong and resilient, but you also knew that your family issues were a sore spot for you.

“I do at my parents house. I just haven’t had a chance to go get my stuff.” you shrugged, starting the washer.

“You haven’t had a chance? Between lounging around watching Netflix and binge eating takeout?” Yoongi chuckled, leaning up against the wall and regarding you with a curious look.

“I’ve had time,” you emphasize with a sigh, “I just… I’m not ready to go there alone.”

“What if you weren’t alone?” 

You looked up to meet Yoongi’s gaze in surprise, a supportive smile playing on his soft lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your chest filling with hope.

“If you want, I can go with you?” he offered.

“Really? You’d do that?” you tried to keep the astonishment out of your voice in an attempt to not look as pathetic and weak as you felt.

“Yeah, we can take my car, it’s bigger than yours anyway.” he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and walking closer to you.

“Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” you grinned, reaching up to hug him.

Yoongi was used to your affectionate nature, but sometimes it still caught him off guard, as he wasn’t an affectionate person. He wanted to be, he just wasn’t always comfortable using physical affection. He froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and wrapped his arms around your torso to return your hug. 

“Yes, but feel free to remind me anytime. My fragile ego needs it.” he joked, poking your side playfully.

You released him from your hold with a light chuckle, stepping back and grinning up at him. He coughed and looked down to hide his shy smile from your view.

“Let’s go.” 

“Wait, right now?” you gasped, eyes wide.

“Do you have other plans?” he questioned with a raised brow. 

“Well, no… but I-” you began but Yoongi sent you a look that had you slipping on your shoes and following him out the door.

Yoongi smirked to himself at how easily you caved into him with just a stern look, unlocking the car and ushering you in before settling in the driver's seat and starting the engine. You couldn’t stop bouncing your leg from nerves, and Yoongi glanced your way every so often before gently placing his large hand on your knee for comfort. Except it did little to comfort you, having his veiny hands on your body only sent your heart into overdrive and caused your breathing to become that much shallower. You gave him an A for effort though.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m right here,” he soothed, “I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you smiled appreciatively, placing your hand on top of his for a moment before looking out the window, watching the trees fly by as you got closer to your parents house. 

You hadn’t alerted your parents that you’d be coming, part of you hoping they wouldn’t be home and you could use the spare key to get your things and get out without having to interact with your father. 

When the GPS announced you were one turn away, your hopes were crushed into a fine powder as you finally looked up and shrank back into your seat when you saw both of your parents’ vehicles occupying the driveway. Yoongi pulled in behind your mom’s car and cut the engine, turning to look at you. You met his gaze with your panicked one and he motioned for you to breathe with him, taking a few deep breaths and guiding you to calm yourself.

“You got this. You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” you sighed, stepping out of his car and meeting him before walking to the front door.

You gripped his hand tightly, and Yoongi looked down at your conjoined hands in surprise but didn’t say anything, realizing that you needed the support.He squeezed your hand gently before rapping softly on the door. Your whole body tensed when you heard the lock click and Yoongi gave your hand another encouraging squeeze. The door swung open and your mother’s face was revealed, causing the hole in your chest to clench. 

“Y/N!” she gasped, her eyes trailing along your form, down to your hands, then up Yoongi’s arms to his face, her expression one of astonishment.

“Hi, mom.” you coughed awkwardly.

“Y/N’s here?” you heard from behind her, the smug voice of your father grating against your ears. “Our little baby came home to admit we were right?”

His grinning face came into your view, standing just behind your mother, his smirk immediately falling once he laid eyes on Yoongi.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“This is Yoongi, he’s my-” you began.

“Are you dating this man?” your father interrupted, sounding panicked.

Your eyes flitted from your mom’s face to your dad’s, turning red with frustration. He had always hated people with tattoos, and you’d warned Yoongi about this. You didn’t think he’d get this worked up about it, and suddenly an idea popped in your head, and just as Yoongi was about to argue that you weren’t dating amidst your silence, you spoke up.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” you said quickly, squeezing Yoongi’s hand in an attempt to beg him to go along with it.

Yoongi’s breath caught and he coughed into his elbow uncomfortably, but gave a sheepish grin when he recovered, letting go of your hand and extending his out to your parents.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m Min Yoongi.”

Your mother stared at his hand hanging in the air like it was a foreign object before she collected herself, gingerly taking his hand in hers. Your father followed suit, his expression hard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.” your mom smiled, warming up to Yoongi’s polite aura.

“I’m very honored to finally meet you. I see where Y/N gets her pretty eyes from.” Yoongi smiled, causing your mom to turn bashful and swat at him playfully.

Your dad hadn’t budged an inch, his hard gaze focused on the man at your side, scrutinizing and unwelcoming. His eyes wandered over Yoongi’s plethora of tattoos, many piercings, and ripped jeans. He made a face of distaste before turning his gaze to you.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered.

“We’re getting some of my stuff to take back home.” you explained.

“Home? You live with this man?!” you dad guffawed. 

“Yes, we live together.” Yoongi supplied for you, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

He mostly wanted to be a shield for you against your father, as he could tell you were starting to shrink in on yourself, and he wanted to offer you a little more strength. You smiled up at him, hoping your eyes showed your thankfulness.

“Absolutely not, young lady. I won’t permit it.” your father hissed.

“With all due respect, you don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m an adult, and you kicked me out.” you shrugged, using your best acting skills to appear nonchalant.Yoongi felt your body shivering slightly against his.

“I- You-” your dad fumed. 

“Why don’t we grab your clothes and come back for the rest when everyone has calmed down a little?” Yoongi offered quietly in your ear.

You nodded, pulling him along with you to your old bedroom. You felt your dad’s piercing gaze follow you down the hallway, but you ignored it. You grabbed some clothes and a few other things, throwing them in a decorative tote you’d once used to house scrapbooking supplies. Yoongi took the tote from you and led the way back out of the house, your hand clutching the back of his shirt like a safety blanket, the other arm filled with more clothes.

Your mom watched you quietly, with a sullen expression, seeming to try and express her apologies through her eyes while your dad seethed from his recliner, refusing to look at you. You sighed, taking a look around the house you used to call home before announcing your departure and waving goodbye, following Yoongi out the front door.

Once you’d placed the things in the back of the car and sat in the passenger seat, your body deflated. Yoongi began driving, to get you out of the line of sight of your parents in case you broke down, so they wouldn’t see.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry I dragged you into that. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just- I saw his face and I wanted to-” you sighed, struggling to explain the reason behind your split second decision to lie about the nature of your relationship.

“I understand.” 

“You’re not mad?” you looked over at him in surprise.

“No. I can see the power dynamic in that house. Your family clearly has some issues they need to work out. I’m not mad.” he explained.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

“Dang, that bar is set pretty low, Y/N.” he joked.

You slapped his arm playfully with a grin lighting up your face, suddenly feeling much lighter than you had moments ago. 

“How about I pay for pizza tonight as a thank you?” you offered, gazing up at him.

“As long as there’s pineapple on it.” he smirked.

“Half and half.”

Seasons changed, the air turned colder, the leaves on the trees transitioning from vibrant green to deep golden yellows and reds before fading away altogether as the harsh winter breeze bagan to set in. Each new day, you learned more about Yoongi, and the two of you grew closer. Yoongi was respectful of your space and time. He would notice when you were having a bad day and do little things you almost didn’t notice to help you out and reduce your stress. He’d pick up your favorite tea on his way home from work or invite you to watch a movie you knew he wouldn’t have watched on his own. 

You tried to show him the same level of respect, like making sure there was fresh coffee for him in the morning, or packing his lunch when he was running late. The more time you spent with Yoongi, the more you adored him. Possibly a little too much… You’d known from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was gorgeous, but you didn’t think it would be so distracting. 

Oftentimes, you’d find yourself staring at the way Yoongi’s lips moved while he talked, or watching the way his muscles flexed while he wrote. Your breath would hitch when your bodies brushed against each other in the hallway or maneuvering around the kitchen together. You’d try to slip past him and his hands would reflexively find your hips to steady you and guide you past him. Sparks would shoot through your veins any time his skin touched yours, a warm tingle left wherever his touch had been. 

Your eyes would linger a second too long when he’d come out of the bathroom in a towel, or when he’d stretch during your frequent binge watching sessions, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of gorgeous ivory skin. Your mouth would water on the occasions when his hip tattoo would be revealed if his sweats hung a little too low. Sometimes you swore he was doing it on purpose, when you’d look up to find him watching you with an amused expression and you’d tear your eyes away as your cheeks filled with heat.

Yoongi never called you out for gawking at him, he’d simply raise an eyebrow and his delicious lips would turn up in an amused smirk. You weren’t the only one who got caught staring though. You noticed his eyes on you when you would bend over to grab a water from the fridge, or his gaze trailing down your neck towards your breasts when you’d come home sweaty from a run. You pretended not to notice, but you saw the way his eyes would linger.

You danced around each other like that, somehow simultaneously completely at ease and growing closer with each passing day but incredibly bothered with tension and desire. Or perhaps it was all in your head, wishful thinking on your part. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the amount of times Yoongi’s name would fall from your lips in pathetic whimpers while you attempted to keep quiet whilst touching yourself under the covers in your room.

You tried to act like nothing had changed, which is why when Yoongi invited you to watch a movie with him, you’d snuggled up to him on the couch, just like always, a thick blanket wrapping the two of you in warmth. Your head rested on his shoulder and his hand on your knee, the heat from his skin on yours causing other areas of your anatomy to warm up as well. It was hard paying attention to the screen when you could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through your jeans where his hand met your knee but you did your best.

You watched as the main characters began taking their clothes off and tensed up awkwardly, looking up at Yoongi to ask if he wanted anything to drink… at the same time he’d glanced down to ask if you wanted more popcorn. Your faces were mere centimeters away, you could feel his hot breath ghosting against your lips, your gazes locked. Your heart skipped a beat and time seemed to slow, and you could have sworn he’d begun leaning in, but a loud crash in the movie startled you both out of your moment, and you’d pulled away with an awkward cough.

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact, and you’d stood up, using his leg as leverage, but your hand slipped and glided up his thigh, almost making contact with his crotch. You wretched your hand away like you’d been burned and mumbled something about a refill before making a beeline for the kitchen.  Hand over your heart, free hand resting on the counter to hold yourself up while you struggled to regulate your heartbeat, you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. 

Was Yoongi about to kiss you? Surely not, but the way your eyes had connected, the sparks his intense gaze had sent down your spine… you shivered. You refilled your water and grabbed a new drink for Yoongi before making your way back to the living room, sitting a few inches from him and extending out your offering to  him, which he took with a quiet “thanks.”

The air was thick and uncomfortable, the lingering tension from the almost-kiss nearly suffocating the both of you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone started ringing, a FaceTime call from your mom. You sat up and sent a panicked look towards Yoongi, who glanced at the screen before scooting closer to you, and pressing the answer button. 

“Hi mom!” 

“Hello, love. Oh. I see Yoongi is with you. Hello, Yoongi.” she smiled politely. 

“Hello, ma’am.” 

“Y/N, I packed up some more of your stuff, I felt awful for how the other day went and I wanted to apologize.  I talked to your father as well, and… you know how he is.  I want to support you and if Yoongi makes you happy, I want to get to know him. I miss you.” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“Oh mom… thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“I do have to admit though, I was very surprised that you two were together, it just seemed so… unexpected. You usually go for a more clean cut kind of guy…”

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract.” Yoongi supplied with a charming smile after  sensing your body stiffen. 

“That they do!” your mom agreed with a giggle, “it just didn’t seem real at first, I suppose.”

You shot Yoongi a panicked glance out of the frame of the camera, silently begging him to turn up the PDA. His lip was tucked between his teeth in nervousness, but he let it slide free and steeled himself before leaning in and brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Which would’ve been a great plan, had that not been the exact moment you’d decided to turn your head to look at him. 

His lips met yours for the briefest moment, the most tender ghost of a touch, but it lit your insides aflame. Your heart pounded erratically, your chest tightening, and the air seeming to have been stolen from your lungs. Your arm holding your phone grew slack, and you dropped it onto the couch cushion, your hand instinctively placing itself upon Yoongi’s firm chest. The kiss lasted mere seconds, but with the way time stilled around you, it might as well have been hours. His soft lips pressed so delicately to yours suspended gravity itself, and you were floating on cloud nine.

“Y/N? Hello?”

The two of you broke apart in shock, springing away from each other like magnets with the same charge, eyes wide and breathing heavy as you stared at one another. Moments passed with your heartbeat pounding in your ear like a drum before you came to your senses and picked your phone up.

“Sorry mom. Can I call you back?” 

“Oh sure, love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

Yoongi had taken your momentary distraction as an excuse to escape to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room with wide eyes and fingertips pressed to your lips in shock. Your lips had barely touched and it felt like your worlds had collided, two missing pieces finally coming together. And it was terrifying, so you decided not to dwell on it, you’d deal with it when the time came.

That didn’t stop you from replaying the moment in your head for the rest of the night, however. Laying in your bed with Yoongi just one wall away, you wondered if he was thinking about the kiss, if he was thinking about you too. Shoving the hopeful thoughts from your mind, you let yourself drift to sleep.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to spend the holiday with your family, but your mother’s persistent guilt trip over the past few weeks had worn your resistance thin. Yoongi’s family was back in Korea so he didn’t have any other plans, usually opting to spend Christmas alone with a bottle of bourbon and leftover takeout. He’d agreed to be your buffer between yourself and your father and accompany you to the hellscape that was your old home.

Snow had already begun to softly drift from the skies, so Yoongi had reminded you about ten times to dress warm so you didn’t catch a cold. Upon the 8th reminder, you’d snarkily shot back “yes daddy.” and rolled your eyes, stomping off to pull on your gloves. Yoongi had frozen in place, jaw slack as his eyes bored into the back of your head. You paid him no mind, wrapping a scarf around your neck and tucking it into your coat before pulling on your hat. 

“Are you coming?” you asked, your eyes warily running along Yoongi’s rigid body as he stood there with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you down there.” he tossed you the keys so you could unlock the car he’d started a few minutes beforehand, making sure it was warmed up.

You trudged down to the car, dragging your purse and the pie you were meant to bring to the occasion, sliding into Yoongi’s passenger seat and placing your hands against the vents for the warm air. A few minutes later, Yoongi joined you, much more relaxed than before. You sent him a hopeful smile and rested your hand on his knee.

“Thanks for coming with me.” 

“Of course. I’ve got your back.” he shrugged, backing out of the space carefully.

You watched the scenery as Yoongi drove, noting how the snow had dusted the trees with a beautiful blanket, making everything brighter, almost as if it sparkled. You loved the snow as a kid and you loved it still, a fond nostalgia settling in your chest until you noticed you were getting closer to your parents house. Your grip returned on Yoongi’s knee and he tensed a bit before placing his free hand on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, then wiggled his eyebrows playfully “plus your mom approves of your boyfriend now.” 

“She loves you more than me now.” you pouted.

“Well, I am pretty irresistible.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you threw back.

“Don’t think I don’t notice you checking me out, babe.” he smirked, emphasizing the last word as you both walked up to the front door, Yoongi’s hand reaching out to knock gently.

“Shut up.” you crossed your arms defiantly.

Yoongi poked at your side, almost making you drop your pie, but he saved it at the last minute by reaching out and grabbing it from you. This caused his face to be just inches from yours and your eyes locked for a moment and you swear time stopped. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips momentarily, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. It might have been your imagination, but Yoongi seemed to get a little closer to your parted, waiting lips before your mom opened the door. The two of you sprung apart like you’d been caught at a crime scene.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” your mom giggled, sending you a playful wink before beckoning you inside.

You avoided eye contact with Yoongi and tried to take steady breaths to calm your racing heart, your mind going a mile a minute. Was he about to kiss you? Surely not. You were play dating, and no one was watching. Did he want to kiss you? Your cheeks were on fire and you were honestly a little riled up, pressing your thighs together discreetly. You handed your mom the pie, which she sliced and set on the table.

“Merry Christmas, mom. Where’s dad?” 

“Oh he’s taking a nap. Yoongi, come over here! I want to get a picture of you two together!” your mom grinned.

“What are you, best friends now? You guys video chat at least once a week.” you whined.

Your mom waved you off and held her camera up while Yoongi stood beside you, giving you plenty of room. 

“Scoot closer. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, not awkward preteens.” your mom huffed.

Yoongi stepped closer and put an arm around your shoulder, leaning in and smiling for the camera. You heard the shutter go off a few times, attempting to pull away.

“Wait. Let’s get one of you kissing his cheek, Y/N!” your mom gushed.

“Moooooom.”

“Do it.” she chided.

You sighed and glanced up at Yoongi in silent apology, but he only lent over and offered you his cheek. You gently pressed your lips to it, feeling the skin tingle where it met his. The tips of Yoongi’s ears were suspiciously pink, but you paid it no mind. He was probably uncomfortable. Your mom snapped a few pictures and smiled to herself.

“You two act like you’ve never touched each other.” she commented offhandedly while turning around to place her phone on the charger.

“Yoongi’s not a fan of PDA.” you covered smoothly.

“When I was your age my man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” she shrugged.

“MOM!”

“What? It’s true. Young men always have a one track mind.” 

You covered your face with your hands, and your mom laughed. Yoongi wrapped his arms around you from behind, shielding you with his body.

“Don’t be shy babe. I just wanted to be respectful around your mom but she doesn’t seem to care.” he spoke, allowing his lips to graze along the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run through your body. 

Yoongi smirked and kissed your cheek before letting you go, standing up straighter. You glanced where he was staring and your dad was making his way down the hall to join everyone. 

“Merry Christmas, dad.” you said politely.

“Merry Christmas.” he responded, his tone a little stiff and uncomfortable.

He wasn’t showing clear distaste for you or Yoongi, so you took it as a win. Your mom must have had a talk with him. You silently thanked her and took your seat beside Yoongi at the table. Dinner was pretty uneventful, light small talk that your father barely participated in and Yoongi relentlessly complimenting your mom on her cooking skills, telling her how delicious the food was and how he needed the recipes. 

After dinner, you all sat around the tree and opened gifts, your father having gifted your mother a lovely pearl necklace, your  mother giving your father a new watch. You’d gifted your mom a foot massager that looked like slippers you’d seen at the mall, and your father a new set of tools, knowing his were beginning to wear. You’d gifted Yoongi a gift card to his favorite store at the mall, and he’d given you a beautiful bracelet he saw you eyeing a few weeks back. 

The last gift to be opened had been a pair of matching couple’s pajamas for you and Yoongi, a red and white plaid design that was actually kind of cute. Your mom made you hold them up and take a picture together, ignoring your protests that she had taken plenty of pictures beforehand. Packing everything up and getting ready to go, you looked up between your parents and sighed contentedly.

“This was nice, getting along,” you smiled at your mom, standing up and dusting off your skirt, “we’ll be sure to visit soon.”

Your mom leaned in for a hug from both of you while your dad stood silently off to the side, hands at his sides, fingers twitching slightly like he was unsure if he should lean in as well or not. Swallowing your pride because it was Christmas, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. He gently patted your back a few times before stepping back.

“See you around, dad. Merry Christmas.” you spoke softly.

“Merry Christmas.” he repeated, looking away uncomfortably.

You sighed and took Yoongi’s hand in your own, gazing up at him in a silent question. He smiled and pulled you towards the door.  The second he opened the entrance, snow blew into the living room from the force of the wind, and Yoongi quickly shut the door, having to put in more strength than usual with how hard the wind was blowing. 

“Wow, it’s really coming down hard out there.” your mom commented, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

“Does your vehicle have four wheel drive?” your dad asked.

“Um… no.” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh there is no way I’m letting you drive in this!” your mother gasped.

“Mom, we have to go home. I’m sure we can drive slow.” you reasoned, though your nerves about the weather were grating at you.

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here.” she commanded.

“YN… your mom is probably right. It looks pretty bad out there. I don’t think it would be safe…” Yoongi said quietly.

You sighed, resigning to your fate and nodded, setting your purse back on the coat rack and removing your jacket. Yoongi followed suit, shedding his coat and hanging it up, smiling apologetically in your direction. Your father had already retreated back to his bedroom to clean up for the night. 

“Are the spare blankets still in the hall closet?” you asked your mom.

“Yes, why?” she wondered.

“I was going to grab one, Yoongi or I will probably be sleeping on the couch.” 

“That couch is not comfortable enough to sleep on. It’s not like I don’t know you sleep together at home.” she scoffed.

Your cheeks lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and you didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Your mom laughed at your reaction, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall.

“Goodnight, see you in the morning.” she called over her shoulder.

The two of you stood there silently for a moment before you coughed and gestured for him to follow you to your old bedroom. Most of your stuff had been taken to your apartment by that point, so it was mostly just your old bed and an empty dresser with a lamp on it. You glanced down at the full sized bed, which had enough room for the two of you, but barely enough to ensure that you wouldn’t end up touching.

“Do you care which side?” you wondered, finally looking up to meet Yoongi’s gaze. 

“No, it doesn’t matter to me.” he shrugged.

“Okay. You can go change first.” you offered.

Yoongi nodded and disappeared down the hallway to change into the pajamas your mother had gifted the both of you previously in the night. You decided to go ahead and rush through changing while Yoongi was gone, slipping on the matching pair and crawling into bed. The two of you laid straight on your backs, staring at the ceiling for a while.

“I’m sorry about this.” you mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, really.”

You didn’t remember falling asleep so soon, but you woke up to a pitch black room with something warm and firm pressed up against your back. You snuggled closer to the warmth in the freezing room and were met with a low groan and something a solid pressing against your backside.

“Nnnngh.” Yoongi whined, half-asleep, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush against him.

You froze, trying not to rub against Yoongi’s erection that was pressing into your ass, but that didn’t stop the shiver from traveling through your body. With great effort, you managed to turn yourself around in Yoongi’s arms so you were facing him, watching his serene facial expressions in his slumber.

Yoongi really was a beautiful man. You watched him take slow, steady breaths, his face illuminated by the moonlight trickling in between the blinds. You wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, but you didn’t dare in case you woke him. 

His body shuffled closer to yours once more, his arms tightening around you until your noses were nearly touching and you had to hold in a gasp. There was no way this would be happening if Yoongi had been conscious, and you weren’t sure if you should let him sleep or alert him to what he was doing. You couldn’t help being slightly elated at the situation though, being this close to Yoongi and being able to study his features without fear of looking weird, and the way his groin felt pressed against your lower stomach wasn’t something you’d complain about either.

You decided you should probably stop taking advantage of his unconscious state and attempted to climb over him to get out of bed without disturbing him. Just as you’d swung your leg over his body, he turned in his sleep, flipping onto his back, effectively knocking you off balance until you landed atop his chest, your legs straddling his hips. 

You glanced up at his face and your eyes met, faces mirroring expressions of shock. You were both frozen in place for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. You snapped out of it and tried to climb off of Yoongi’s hips, just as Yoongi tried to sit up, so all the two of you accomplished was grinding your core against Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi let out a strangled moan, reaching out to grab your hips to hold you still. 

His fingers gripped the skin of your hips where your shirt had ridden up, and his touch burned in the best way. You fought back a whimper at the delicious feeling, your hips stilling in his iron grasp. The air in the room changed, getting thicker. You swore you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Your racing heart skipped a beat as Yoongi’s eyes traveled down your body until they rested where your core met his length. He shivered. You gulped. Once again, you attempted to flee your current position.

“Please- don’t move,” Yoongi whined, almost desperately, “you’re making it worse.”

“I know I’m irresistible.” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

“You really are.” 

Your brows rose in surprise at the earnest tone he spoke in, his voice bordering desperate. Your mouth slightly agape, you searched his eyes for confirmation he wasn’t joking. He  smirked and sat up, holding you against him as his lips ghosted along your neck, barely brushing against your skin. His hot breath fanning against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your sides almost demandingly, and he let out a low, animalistic growl. 

“You don’t even realize what you do to me… how much you tempt me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger. You’re anything but subtle. I’ve tried so hard to hold back… If we weren’t at your parents house, I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your name…” Yoongi’s voice was low and quiet, and you let out an involuntary whimper at his words, causing his eyes to darken and a smirk to play on his pretty lips, “but maybe you’d like that, maybe you want them to hear, you want them to know what a dirty slut you can be, wanna show them who you belong to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby girl?” he purred, rocking his hips up into yours, letting his rock-hard member drag deliciously against your covered folds.

“Oh fuck… yes.” you whimpered, all sense of dignity flying out the window at his dirty words.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” he groaned, using his hands to guide your hips along his length.

“Me too.” you whimpered, falling forward and placing your hands on the defined planes of his chest, feeling it rise and fall as quickly as yours.

You allowed your hands to wander underneath his sleep shirt, feeling his warm skin against your own, slowly dragging your digits along his torso and teasingly letting your nails scrape gently against his nipples. Yoongi watched with rapt attention as you explored his body, relishing in the way you attempted to memorize every inch your eyes could devour.

His fingers dug into your hips when you flicked your thumb over his nipple, and you smiled innocently before dragging your hands down to the waistband of his pajama pants, gently lifting the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin, causing him to buck his hips up into yours. His hands traveled up your hips to grip the hem of your shirt, pausing and meeting your gaze to make sure you were alright, and you nodded, placing your hands on his and guiding them to remove the fabric, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Yoongi sucked in a breath, a low whine escaping as he released it. 

His hands immediately found purchase on your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolling your hardened nipple. You let your head fall back as electricity shot straight to your core at his actions. You felt him move below you, sitting up in order to take one of your pert nipples into his waiting mouth. His warm tongue worked against the sensitive bud, alternating between licking and sucking while he worked the neglected nipple between his fingers. Your breathing grew shallower, your whines needier, and you felt Yoongi smirking against your skin, releasing your abused flesh with an audible pop.

“You fall apart so easily for me… who could’ve guessed you’d be such a responsive, cock hungry little thing.” he mused while allowing his hands to travel down your stomach, so close to where you needed stimulation.  

“Yoongi please…”

“Fuck, say it again. My name sounds so much better coming from your pretty lips.” 

“Yoongi.” you moaned, nearly breathless. “Please.”

In an instant, Yoongi had you flipped over, resting on your back as he hovered over you, his hungry gaze trailing over your chest and traveling down. He tugged on the waistband of your pajamas, pulling them down past the swell of your ass, then helping you kick them off and aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“Wanna see you, Yoongi.” you pleaded, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

He quickly obliged, whipping it off and tossing it aside, revealing his expanse of glorious ivory skin to you. Your gaze traveled down the expanse of his torso, tracing over the intricate designs that decorated his skin in awe. You’d seen glimpses, when he’d been in just a towel, or stripping off his shirt at the washing machine, but you’d never gotten a good look up close. 

You tentatively lifted your fingers, your index gently tracing the inky black lines as tenderly as you could, barely a ghost of a touch as you admired the beautiful artwork that so perfectly suited such a beautiful man. Yoongi shivered at your touch, watching you study his ink with such wonder in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, reminding him exactly why he’d fallen for you in the first place. 

“When we have more time, I want to hear all about these,” you mused quietly, “what they mean, when you got them, I want to know everything.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “but for now…” he trailed off, slowly moving his body down, kissing a path from your lips down your front until he reached the elastic band of your panties.

He teasingly ran his finger under the elastic, grinning up at your from his spot between your thighs before pulling the garment from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your soaking pussy to him. You tried to close your legs from embarrassment, but Yoongi gently slid his hands up your thighs, gently kneading the flesh there.

“So beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” he cooed, kissing a line from your thigh to your folds, causing you to let out a pleased sigh and spread your legs further for him, “mmm… good girl.”

He rewarded you by licking a long stripe up your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue and making a pleased noise in the back of his throat before diving in, working his warm muscle against your clit in different motions, alternating between sucking it between plump lips, licking broad stripes against it, and drawing figures with the tip of his tongue. 

Using your pleasure as a distraction, he slowly eased a finger inside of your entrance, your slick aiding him with the welcome intrusion. He curled his finger and made come hither motions, repeatedly rubbing the pad of his finger against your weakest spot, and it took everything inside of you not to cry out at the intense fire burning in your core as he worked you closer to your first release. He slowly added a second finger, then a third, scissoring you open and prepping you for his cock. 

Just the thought of the thick member you’d felt pressing against your lower back earlier nestled deep inside you had you drooling, and Yoongi’s skills with his mouth and fingers were certainly not hurting. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you fought the urge to buck your hips up into his mouth as your climax came closer and closer. Yoongi noticed your needy behavior and sped up his actions, working you towards your release. 

You bit down on your fingers to stifle the loud moans that threatened to spill from your lips, even in your lust clouded mind, the last thing you needed was to be interrupted before you could get Yoongi inside of you. As your orgasm crashed over you from Yoongi’s ministrations, your back arched off the bed and you nearly drew blood from how hard you had to bite down to keep quiet, your body shaking as you came down from euphoria. 

Yoongi kissed his way back up your body, finally becoming eye-level with you, smirking at your fucked out state and heavy breathing. You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, drawing his body closer to yours in an attempt to hide. Yoongi’s low chuckles reverberated, shaking the bed slightly. Your hands traveled from being wrapped around his neck, slowly trailing down his back and pulling on the elastic of his pajama bottoms, desperate to lay eyes on his thick cock, which was pressed into your hip.

“Yoongi… need you. Need you so bad.” you begged.

Yoongi’s cock twitched in his pj’s, and he assisted you with ridding him of them and his boxers in one go, allowing his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach in all its glory. You were absolutely salivating as you looked at the reddened tip, leaking precum, the long shaft, and you couldn’t wait to feel him filling you up.

“Ready, princess?” he wondered, lining his member up with your entrance after gathering your slick to coat the head.

“So ready. Please fuck me, Yoongi.” 

Yoongi slowly pushed himself inside your entrance, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. He took his time, periodically checking your expression for discomfort as he impaled you with his length. Your breathing was erratic, you were clutching onto his back for dear life as he split you open, eventually bottoming out. Yoongi stretched you out in all the best ways, filling you up better than any man had ever dreamed of before, and you were living for it. 

You rocked your hips up into his, begging him to move, and Yoongi slowly pulled out until just the tip was sheathed inside your warmth before pushing back in, gaining more speed as he went.  You couldn’t help the pathetic whines and moans that fell from your lips as Yoongi worked his hips, thrusting into you at a punishing pace. Every rock of his hips had the tip of his cock meeting your cervix, the powerful thrusts sending you closer and closer to oblivion. 

“Fuck, babygirl, you look so sexy like this, taking my cock so well… like you were made for me. So fucking perfect.” Yoongi whispered hotly in your ear, licking a bold stripe along the shell, sending shivers coursing through your body.

“Yoongi, fuck.” 

“That’s it baby, who’s making you feel this good?” he accentuated the last word with a harder thrust that sent your body a little farther up the bed.

“You, Yoongi! Oh oh o-oh..” your whines grow louder and Yoongi quickly covered your mouth with his own in an attempt to drown out the noise, lest your parents really do hear him defiling their daughter in her childhood bedroom. 

You clawed desperately at his back, trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, and Yoongi deepened the kiss in understanding, pistoning his hips with as much strength as he could muster and reaching down to roll your clit between his fingers, sending you sailing off the edge, Yoongi’s kiss stifled your scream before he soon followed you off the edge, painting your walls white with his hot release. 

Yoongi pecked your lips tenderly before rolling off of you and landing on his back beside you, both of you panting and grinning like idiots. Yoongi’s cum seeped out of your battered hole, and he licked his lips at the sight, causing you to cover your face and giggle. He stood, walking into the bathroom and dampening a washcloth to clean you up as gently as he could before tossing it into the hamper and resuming his position on his side of the bed.

The sun was just beginning to rise and shine through the blinds as you lay beside Yoongi, still catching your breath. You glanced over at Yoongi to find he was already looking at you. He gave you a shy, tentative smile.

“So…” he trailed off.

“So…?” 

Yoongi sighed and sat up, urging you to follow suit so you could both talk. You followed his instructions, wincing slightly. He gently reached out and took both of your hands in his larger ones, looking up to meet your gaze before he spoke quietly.

“Listen… I know this started off as a lie to piss your dad off, but… I would be lying now if i said it was still fake for me. I really like you, Y/N.. I have for a while. I don’t know when it happened but somewhere along the way, I just- I don’t know. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, a real chance, I think I could make you happy.” he spoke quietly, his eyes filled with light and hope.

“Oh Yoongi…” you sighed, cupping his cheek with your hand tenderly and smiling as he leaned subconsciously into your touch, “you already do. None of this is fake for me either, not anymore. I really, really like you.”

A soft knock on your door tore you two from your moment, your heads snapping towards the door as you pulled the blanket up to cover your breasts.

“Morning, guys, breakfast will be ready in ten.” your mom called through the wood.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to look your mom in the eye now.” Yoongi chuckled.

“She already thought we were fucking before this.” you reasoned with a smirk.

Yoongi groaned and hid his face in the crook of your neck and you laughed, carding your fingers through his messy post-sex hair lovingly. 

“I can’t believe you’re really mine, for real this time.” he whispered into the safety of your neck.

“And I can’t believe you’re mine… for real this time,” you grin, carding your fingers through his hair comfortingly, “let’s eat so we can go home.”

The two of you got dressed and headed out for breakfast, engaging in small talk with your mom and semi-comfortable silence with your dad. You still had a ways to go to fix that relationship, but you were pleased with the progress. You didn’t think you’d ever have a perfect relationship with your father, but you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to fix everything, or be who he wanted in order to receive love, you were slowly learning. 

The roads had been salted and deemed safe to drive on, so you and Yoongi bid your parents a farewell, thanking them for letting you stay and for the gifts. Your mom pulled you into a hug, then Yoongi into one as well.

“I just love how happy you are around him, Y/N. It’s like you’re glowing. You two come visit soon, okay? I miss seeing you.” your mom spoke, holding your hand in hers.

“We will. I love you, mom.”

Yoongi reached out and you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you home.

Months later, on another lazy Sunday afternoon, you were cuddled up with your boyfriend on the couch of your shared apartment, snuggling into his chest while the two of you half paid attention to another movie on Netflix. Wrapped up in blankets and Yoongi’s arms, you’d never felt safer, more content, or so unbelievably happy.

Yoongi had your hand wrapped in his, lazily placing kisses along your wrist, palm, the tips of your fingers, anywhere his lips would reach. He wanted to shower you in kisses. You watched him with curious eyes, noting the way his own were shining as he met your gaze.

“What?” you wondered, chucking quietly.

“Say it again.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, looking up at him with a smile nonetheless, “I’ve said it like fifty times today.”

“Just one more time.” 

You rolled your eyes before quietly letting the words roll off your lips like dripping honey as you pressed a kiss to his skin. “I love you, Min Yoongi.” 

Yoongi hummed happily, almost like a purring cat, “Mmm.. I love you too.”

You snuggled into his embrace before he spoke up once more.

“Okay, just one more time.” 

You laughed and rolled over so you were straddling him, reaching down and squishing his cheeks together before pressing your lips to his.

“I love you.” you giggled, pecking his lips once more, then repeating the words and actions over and over and over again.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you.”  you peppered kisses all over his face, any part of it you could reach until your boyfriend was a mess beneath you, laughing and blushing with the biggest gummy smile on his face.

Every once in a while, you meet someone you instantly connect with. Every so often you cross paths with someone you’re just meant to meet. But, once in a lifetime, you meet someone who makes your soul feel whole again. You see a face in the crowd and instantly feel at home. You hear their laugh one time and suddenly the world has color again. Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who doesn’t save you, but holds you steady while you gather the strength you need to save yourself. 

Min Yoongi is that person for you.

[whatevencomesnext]

Oh mannn I completely forgot about Tumblr! This was all I was on when I was a teenager. Wow. I’ve been going and deleting all my social medias because I’m sick of them, I’m sick of the culture and the algorithms and how addictive they are. Something something cleaning up my digital footprint so I can actually get a job, but mostly I’ve just decided I don’t like social media anymore. I guess Tumblr is different, it's a lot easier to be anonymous imo. I don’t even know what this is. One last shout into the void.

I'm tired of social media and how unhappy it makes me, and so I've been thinking a lot about the role tech has in my life and the lives of people around me. The first ever art class I took that was more focused on technology, the prof told us right off the bat that we were basically cyborgs. Even if most of us don’t have like, brain implants or a third arm (like that crazy artist guy Kenneth told me about)

But our tech is still more or less attached to us. I mean think about it, person who probably stumbled across this blog by accident, can you remember the last time you didn’t have your phone with you? Or near you? Or close enough to get easily? According to A Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway, a cyborg is someone with both organic and cybernetic parts. A mix of the two. It seems really, like, sci-fi, but isnt it kinda true? And man, I don’t know how to deal with that. That prof told our class that aaaages ago and I still think about it, like especially over the pandemic. We’re way way more dependent on tech than we were even a few years ago and idk, it seems like I’m the only one under 40 that finds that unnatural? Like, we as a species figured out how to survive a million billion years or whatever just fine without smartphones and wifi everywhere. Why is it so essential to our lives now?

It totally freaks me out as well. I get ads on youtube related to stuff I mention out loud. I feel like I should be wearing a tinfoil hat when I say these kinds of things, but its something a lot of people know about AS A FACT- but just dont care. I just started watching an older show with my roommate and okay like I’ve never used facebook aside from uni class group chats but i logged on the other day bc i forgot my aunt’s birthday and like. Facebook was like hey! Wanna join a fan group for this show? :) It made me want to throw my laptop into the wall!!!!

And yeah, there’s a part of me that’s like, woah thats kind of an extreme reaction. But like!!!!! Don’t I have a right to privacy?? Can’t I talk about whatever stupid thing I want without worrying about who’s listening outside the room and selling this info to the corporate overlords at Meta???? I told my dad about that happening and he got creeped out, understandably, and then I told my brother and he was like “yeah? That’s how it is lol” And like!! I don’t know if im alone in this but thats not how it should be????

I’m gonna buy a flip phone and go live in the woods. Contacting my loved ones should not come at the price of being wiretapped.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Do You Trust Me?

A/N: This is to celebrate 1K followers! Thank you so much, guys! Sorry it came so late! Remember requests are OPEN! This is based on the book/film, Nerve. Possibly might make this a series, I don’t know. I haven’t really had a lot of time to write unless you guys send in requests. Then I’ll make fucking time.

WARNINGS: Swearing, some intense themes, partial nudity (but no smut)

Summary: Welcome to NERVE. Are you a Watcher or a Player? Watchers pay to watch and Players play to win. Which will you choose? All you have to do is survive one night of daring acts and win prizes and fame unimaginable. It’s all or nothing. Literally. The next question…are you solo or are you going to pair up?

Genre: Thriller, Non-idol!au, Nerve!au, Action, Dystopian?, Idolxreader

Music blasted through the auditorium. I watched as my group went through choreography on stage. My choreography. This was supposed to be my last project as a senior. I spent hours in the studio coming up with the set only to be kicked out the day before the show.   

My best friend, Jennie, jumped off stage as the music stopped. “Hey, don’t be so bummed. There are plenty of other things you could do tomorrow.” I scoffed and pouted in the faux velvet auditorium chair. “Yeah. What’s better than watching my own choreography I’m not performing.” Jennie aimlessly scrolled through her phone which was always wrapped in that stupid blue rhinestone case. She insisted it went with her style, which was true.

“Well, you could always sign up to be a Watcher. There is a NERVE game in Seoul tomorrow. I already submitted my prelim dare to be a Player. I’m going to ditch curtain call and play.” I shrugged. Jennie was obsessed with NERVE. She dragged me and my other friend, Seungmin, to her house last year to watch the Gangnam rounds. When it was announced the rounds were going to be played in Seoul, she was determined to become a Player. She said it was her path to fame.

“Maybe I should play. Just for fun not for those prizes. They seem like scams.” Jennie let out a bright laugh and smiled at me. “That’s funny, Y/n. You as a Player.” As her laughter died down she returned to her phone.

“What’s so funny about me being a Player? I could do it.”

Jennie dropped her phone into her bag and focused her attention on me. Most boys would be at each other's throats for this much attention from her. They all seemed to love her tiny figure with just enough curves to be flawless. Whereas I could never find the right outfit to hide my lumps but also hug my humps.

“Y/n, you know I love you,” she stated with a gentle smile. “But you can be kind of a pushover sometimes.” A pushover? Is that what everyone thought? “The show is a perfect example.” Did everyone really think of me as this shy doormat? “I just don’t think you have the same guts to pull off some of those dares. They can get dangerous.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Without even thinking about it I grabbed my stuff and ran out of the auditorium. Jennie and I had been friends since we were kids, but it was now clear to me she only thought of me as her little pushover sidekick. I just felt so angry. I sat against the wall of the school and looked up at the setting sun. What time was it?

7:58 pm, my phone read.

Suddenly an ad popped up on my phone since I was still using a VPN on the school wifi. NERVE flashed on my screen in bright neon colors with tempting prizes and a link to the site. I don’t know what compelled me to click the link but suddenly a video with an obviously animatronic voice was playing.

Welcome to NERVE. Are you a Watcher or a Player?

Are you a Watcher or a Player?

Are you a Watcher or a Player?

My finger hovered over Watcher, but then I thought back to Jennie and to events in the past few weeks that made me realize she was right. I was too much of a wallflower to even ask out my dance partner Hyunjin, let alone fight for my own spot in the show.

Without hesitation I pressed Player and a new video started playing with the same voice, only this time showing some weird clips or other players and some online jokes.

You have chosen...Player. NERVE is a direct democracy. Watchers decide your dares.

The two Players with the most Watchers at the end of regulation will advance to the final round, where the winner takes all.

Watchers can watch from anywhere, but they are encouraged to film live. So, don't be alarmed. There are three rules.

1. All dares must be filmed on the Player's phone.

2. There are only two ways to be eliminated: Fail or Bail.

3. Snitches get stitches.

Thank you for keeping NERVE a secret. Good luck Player.

"Well, this isn't shady." Another pop up came onto my home screen. Apparently, NERVE had installed its app onto my phone. A 'yes or no' option popped up that read: Are you ready to accept your first dare?

I pressed 'yes' and quickly filled out the profile information before the app took me to another screen with my dare and a countdown of 25 minutes.

Go to Java House and wait for a boy in a black, yellow, and white flannel shirt and jean jacket. Convince him to buy you a coffee.

When he goes in line, sing loudly and off-key 100 Bottles of Coke on the Wall until he gives it to you. Then dump it over your head.

Reward: $200

"Oh shit. I need a ride." Quickly I called Seungmin hoping he was still inside. Thankfully he answered. "Hey what's up-"

"Seungmin are you done with lights?" "Umm yeah, why?" I quickly told him what happened and hung up the phone waiting for him to come out of the building. The timer on my phone flashed 19 minutes and 23 seconds left.

"You're playing NERVE?" Seungmin yelled at me as he exited the building and we ran to his car. "Yeah, so what. Come on, we have 18 minutes to get to Java House."

The ride to the coffee house was silent. I was honestly glad that Seungmin was coming with me in case this guy I was meeting was a creep. "Why are you doing this again?" Seungmin said keeping his eyes on the road. "I don't know. To prove that I can cause apparently people only like and notice you if you are this confident and daring person."

Another silence momentarily filled the car. "You mean like Jennie?" I shrugged and checked the timer again. "You know I don't think all that stuff matters. I like people who are more soft-spoken, and sweet, and honest, and creative-"

"Seungmin we're here. Stop the car!" I said already taking off my seatbelt. He jerked the car into a parking space, but I was already halfway to the door. A glance at my phone revealed that I had arrived with 2 minutes and 51 seconds to spare. I heaved a sigh of relief and scanned the coffee shop looking for the boy NERVE had described.

"Geez wait for your friend much," Seungmin said coming in behind me. "Sorry, Min. He isn't here yet." Seungmin moved to stand in front of me. "Y/n, what if this dude is a total creep-" "That's why I have you, Seungmin." He mumbled something under his breath but the ringing of the Cafe doorbell sent my attention flying to the entrance.

A gorgeous girl, maybe college-aged, strut through the door. Behind her was a boy about the same age, with dark hair and plump cheeks, but when he turned his head to scan the shop his features immediately became as sharp as a knife. Silver earrings swayed with the movement of his head as a hand ran through his dark locks. My eyes looked down to find him wearing the yellow flannel and jean jacket. Our eyes locked and he smirked eyeing me up and down. He handed the girl his phone and she immediately started recording.

"Seungmin, that's him! Go over there and start recording!" I said shoving my phone into my friend's hands and shoving him to a booth. My hands shook as the handsome boy walked over to me, but I tried to channel how Jennie often looked when talking to guys. I pushed my shoulders back and held his stare hoping that my smile didn't look creepy or deranged.

"Are you Y/n?"

"What's it to you?"

"Well you, hot stuff, are a crucial part of my dare."

"As you are of mine." He chuckled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Look all you have to do is proclaim out loud what a great lover I am and then let me show my appreciation." I hoped my cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

I looked him up and down and then spared a glance toward the girl filming the two of us. "Fine, but only if you buy me a drink." "Sure." "Iced chai tea latte and quickly.....please." The last part I added as he walked away and he looked back and gave me a small smile. He stepped in line and I shut my eyes and began to sing very loudly.

"100 BOTTLES OF COKE ON THE WALL!

100 BOTTLES OF COKE! YOU TAKE ONE DOWN PASS IT AROUND, 99 BOTTLES OF COKE ON THE WALL!"

I continued to belt the song and I prayed that Flannel Boy would hurry the fuck up before I burst into tears. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. There was something about being the center of attention that just made me uncomfortable. It was different when I was on stage, but here....in real life....it was too much.

"61 BOTTLES OF-" Someone gently tapped my shoulder and I opened my eyes. Flannel Boy stood holding my drink with a gentle smile. His brown eyes had a kind look to them unlike earlier when they were filled with mischief. "One iced chai tea latte for the pretty lady."

I thanked him and without hesitating dumped the cold drink over my head with a small shriek. The liquid soaked my hair and shirt and the ice was painfully cold. I looked up to find him shocked and fighting back a small smile. It was one of those smiles that were out of complete surprise but you knew he wasn't laughing at you.

I heard the entire coffee shop gasp and some laugh and I didn't have to look around to know that at least a third of them had their phones out. It was then I remembered my part of the deal with him.

So as loud as I could I said, "This man is the best lover I have ever had!" A smile came over his face that reached his eyes and a hand came to rest on my waist, brushing up against bare, cold, tea drenched skin.

"Aww thanks, babe." Before I could react, he pressed his lips against mine. His hand came up to my cheek and pushed a strand of wet hair away. I couldn't help but melt. He pulled away leaving only a couple of inches between us.

"I'm Han."

"I'm Y/n."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry. The iced tea kind of fried my brain." I said with a nervous chuckle.

He laughed and pulled away further. "Oh, your shirt!" He said looking down and then quickly away. Looking down I saw I had forgotten something very important. I was wearing a white thin crop top with a black bra underneath for everyone in the crowded coffee shop to see. Panicking I crossed my arms over my chest and felt the heat creeping up my cheeks and ears.

"Here." Han swiftly removed his jean jacket and draped it over my shoulders, pulling it to cover my front.

"Han-ah! We got it, let's go." The blonde girl said leaning against a booth. He nodded in her direction before turning back to me. "I think your girlfriend wants you to go."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh-"

Without another word, the boy smiled and started towards the door. "Wait!" He turned at my call. "Your jacket?" With a small smile and a hand on the door he said. "Keep it. I'll see you in the Rounds, babe."

With that the two disappeared into the night leaving me standing in the middle of the shop, surrounded by the smell of coffee and something sweet. Maybe mint? Seungmin's voice brought me out of whatever trance I was in. "Y/n, it's 9:45! Isn't your curfew in 15 minutes?"

"Oh fuck!"

The two of us raced to Seungmin's beat-up old car and prayed that the traffic gods were feeling gracious. The minutes ticked closer to 10:00 and I got more and more anxious. If I missed the last night of this punishment caused curfew I would never have another taste of freedom for the rest of my life.

With three minutes to spare I opened my front door to find all but the kitchen lights off. "Y/n?" My mother called out. I sighed and trudged towards my mother's voice. She stood cutting vegetables for tomorrow's dinner. Her hair was neatly pulled up and out of her face, so her stern eyes could focus on the blade in her slender hands.

At some point, I remember wanting to look just like her. Sharp features, slender waist, and small frame. Some part of me still did. The part that hoped one day I would wake up and the fat on my stomach or thighs would disappear and my mother would be proud to say, "Look at my beautiful, daughter."

"Cutting it a little close?" I nodded and set my backpack down on the kitchen table. "There were some problems with sound. They lost our track." She could always tell when I was lying, so I prayed she wasn't doing her fucking C3P0 scanning thing to detect my dishonesty.

She simply nodded and continued chopping vegetables after looking at the time. "Whose jacket is that?" Her usually soft voice had an edge. "Oh, one of the guys spilled coffee all over my shirt and offered it to me." Well....it wasn't a total lie.

A deafening silence followed and I felt awkward standing in the middle of the kitchen. Deciding that two minutes was enough of dead silence and that the conversation was over, I turned over my shoulder and headed for the stairs.

"Y/n?"

"Yes..."

I turned back to find my mother looking at me with a kind smile.

"Thank you for being so patient with the whole curfew situation. You have shown me that you are responsible enough without one." Returning the smile, my tired body climbed the remaining stairs and hopped in the shower. My room was dark and the only light came from my phone, which I put on the nightstand. Crawling under the warm covers I pulled the device from its charger.

Account Deposit: $200.00

With a click, the screen shut off and I lay staring at the ceiling. Tonight was a night I certainly wouldn't forget but had no chance of repeating. I hated to admit it, but Jennie was right. The dare was fun while it lasted, but it wasn't really in my comfort zone.

My mind wandered to Han with his dark hair and lean figure. I wondered where he was. If he was doing another dare just for fun, or at home, going back to a normal life. Just like me.

My eyes closed and a heaviness fell upon them. The warmth of my room and bed surrounded me in a veil of security. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Han's eyes looking over at me, a smile reaching the corners.

In the darkness, while I slept soundly, a sound was heard. My phone vibrated against the wooden end table as a constant stream of notifications lit up the device.

Saturday. Today was supposed to be the day I performed my choreography in front of a huge audience filled with talent scouts and college recruiters. Sunlight streamed through my curtains hitting my very unawake face.

Run Away by Teen Top started blasting from my phone making me bolt upright. Running a hand through my messy knotted hair I grabbed the phone and cursed whoever was calling me.

Jennie

My hand suddenly felt very heavy and my entire body screamed for me to go back to bed and ignore her call, but I didn't. "Hel-"

"What the fuck, Y/n!"

"Jen, what's up?" I said hoping I wasn't now deaf in my right ear. "What's up? What's up. I'll tell you what's up. The fact that your little prelim dare went viral! What the hell were you thinking!?" My blood ran cold. Frantically I searched for my laptop as Jennie continued to scream at me over the phone.

"WAIT WHAT!"

Stuffing my phone between my cheek and my shoulder I logged onto the NERVE website and the first thing I saw was the leader board. I watched as the Watcher count by my user name skyrocketed into the thousands. Alongside it was a link to my dare. I scanned the leaderboards and no longer saw Jennie's name. She had landed the 8th slot earlier this week and was so proud. My eyes caught on the user in fifth place. Han's picture was placed next to the user @J.One. And just below him in sixth, was me...

"I can't believe you kicked me off the leaderboard!"

"Jennie it was a one-time thing really! I just wanted it to try it. I have no intention of competing in the rounds."

There was silence over the phone. "Are you sure?" Her voice was soft and I could tell she didn't believe me. I repeated myself once more and promised that I wouldn't do another dare. I hoped that set her mind at ease. "Who was that guy anyway?" Her tone was back to normal as if I had never upset her at all.

"I have no clue. His name was Han, though."

I smiled clicking my video. It was weird watching the two of us meet from someone else's point of view. I looked so obviously out of place next to him. "Was he a good kisser at least?" My finger moved over the mouse pad and fast-forwarded to later in the video. I watched as Han smiled and pressed his lips on mine.

"Yeah...he was." I couldn't hide the grin in my voice.

"Well too bad you'll never see him again. He looked way older than us anyway."

Taking a second glance at the screen I couldn't disagree. He was obviously way more experienced than I was. The video was hardcore proof. He definitely was at least a sophomore or junior in college as well. Once again Jennie was right.

"You still coming to the show?" Did I want to? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Was I going to? Yes. I absentmindedly scrolled through the comments at the video while Jennie talked. They ranged from serial killer perverted about my tits and wet t-shirt to angry hat comments for kissing Han, who apparently already had a fan base. The phone call ended and I was about the shut my laptop when the page refreshed with new comments. And at the top was a comment from Hyunjin, the boy who I've had a crush on since freshman year.

Didn't know you had it in you, Y/n! Nice shirt ;)

My face flushed a beet red and a grin spread all the way to my ears. My mother's shrill voice interrupted my daydream of Hyunjin actually liking me back. "Y/n! One hour until we have to leave!" What? Confused I looked at the time. "Oh fuck!" I had slept in until three in the afternoon. I guess all the stress and excitement for yesterday exhausted me more than I thought.

I jumped in the shower and dried my hair as quickly as possible. In record time I applied foundation, contour, and eyeliner before sprinting to my closet. Hyunjin is going to be there. Crap. Clothes flew across the room as I searched for something that would be in any way flattering.

I settled for some black high waisted shorts and a belt with a blue and white vertical striped button-down. Slipping on some simple silver accessories, and a choker, I checked the time. It had been an hour and five minutes. My mom would be storming up here any minute now.

I grabbed some chunky white sneakers and tied them tightly just as my mom burst through the door. "Y/n! Let's go! After I drop you off I have a meeting!" The two of us rushed to the car and hurried to the school. "Are you staying out after?" I nodded and looked out the window. "There is a party at Jennie's house after. If I can't get a ride from Seungmin, Jennie said I could stay over." She nodded and the rest of the ride was silent.

After dropping me off my mom dashed off towards her meeting and would probably end up working late into the night since I was busy. That left me to watch a show that I choreographed and was kicked out of.

By 7:30 the entire event was finished and I had little crescent marks on the palms of my hands. Had I been any stronger my nails would have broken through the skin. I gritted my teeth as I sent my congratulations to all the dancers I saw. I walked backstage in search of Jennie and Seungmin, who was honestly probably hiding from all the commotion.

"Have you seen Jennie?" I asked a passing my sophomore, I think his name was Felix. I remember him doing really well with my choreography. "Uh.....yeah I think she went into the dressing rooms like ten minutes ago." I smiled and congratulated him on a great show. It was quiet backstage. But being alone in a theater was honestly one of my favorite places.

My knuckles gently tapped on the dressing room door before entering. What I saw had me frozen in shock. Jennie had changed out her costume and into a tube top and short skirt. She was also wearing a Hyunjin like a scarf. They hardly even noticed me enter the room too busy with what body part to grope.

"Jennie?"

Tears threatened to fall as the two of them looked up. She didn't even bother to push him away. Out of the two of them, Hyunjin looked the most ashamed which was just a real kick in the metaphorical balls.

"Come on, Y/n. You didn't really think he liked you, right?"

Any normal person would scream at her or slap her or at least get angry with her. But I did none of those things. I simply walked out of the building passing a concerned Seungmin on the way. I ignored him and kept walking looking up at the ceiling, begging for tears not to fall.

Ding

Freezing in the middle of the hall I looked down at my phone to see a notification from NERVE. In the background, I could hear Seungmin catching up to me. With blurry vision, I opened the app.

Congratulations! You have qualified to compete in the live rounds where the prizes are bigger and the stakes are higher!

Do you wish to continue?

My hand hovered over the no button. Subconsciously still willing to follow through with a promise I made to my best friend who was currently giving hickeys to the boy I liked. "Y/n! What's wrong?" Me. I was what's wrong. It was time for a change. It was time to do what I wanted for once.

Just as Seungmin reached my side I pressed the accept button and another creepy video played, welcoming me to the official game.

"Y/n......please tell me you didn't just do that."

The device vibrated in my hand as a new notification popped on the screen. NERVE had sent me my first dare.

Go into the city. 41× ×××××××× Ln.

My heart jumped at the reward. It was two tickets and a backstage pass to my favorite band. I hadn't told anyone I was even looking at tickets! "Seungmin, can you take me into the city?"

His face held disapproval all over it. "Y/n, you cannot play this game! Some kid died two years ago! Don't you remember? Plus no one knows how the game is run. It's across so many separate servers that it's impossible to verify anything. They could suck up all your information they wanted to." I scoffed. "Min that was just some rumor. Also, I'll be careful with what info I give them." Seungmin was the smartest guy I knew, but like me, he played only in his comfort zone. "How far are you going to take this?"

Shrugging, my eyes looked over the almost empty lobby. Everyone had probably already headed over to Jennie's house for the after-party. "If they ask me to do anything uncomfortable or illegal I'll stop. I promise." He sighed and scratched the back of his neck clearly having an internal battle.

"Fine. But I'm sticking by you."

I smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the parking lot. The ignition started and I pressed ‘accept’, starting the timer. "We have 18 minutes to get to this address!" Min glanced at the screen and then pulled out of the lot at high speeds.

The two of us raced down the highway headed towards Seoul. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out the window admiring the Seoul skyline. Something at this moment made me feel so free. The wind blew through my hair and the world looked so big and bright.

We pulled in front of this huge building. The sign obviously stating that it was a haute couture department store. Everything in there was worth probably more than my life three times over.

NERVE congratulated me on the completion of my dare. A confirmation email was sent into my inbox with the ticket order and number. I screamed from delight! Seungmin and I stood outside watching expensive cars and people come down the street.

Ding

Seungmin came around the car to my side. Pulling up the NERVE app I read my next dare.

You have 17 minutes to find and try on this dress.

Reward: $850

Below the dare was a picture of a gorgeous black dress on a mannequin. Seungmin let out a slow whistle over my shoulder. "That thing must cost a fortune!" I ran a hand through my hair and nodded. Looking up the store stood maybe 15 stories tall. Finding that singular dress in ten minutes was going to take a miracle.

"Come on! We don't have a lot of time." Seungmin had already started walking towards the entrance. Before I could follow him my phone sounded again.

Ding

Looking down, I read the message. "Seungmin...." He stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. Innocent eyes looking back at me with a smile. Confirming that he would most likely follow me into whatever crazy shit I got myself into.

"You can't come." His face fell and he walked back to me. I showed him the message.

Ditch your techie boyfriend.

"Y/n, you can't seriously be thinking of doing this alone?" He could tell by my face that I was going to follow through. "I'm not going to let you do this by yourself. It's too dangerous!"

"Seungmin! I have to do this alone!" He looked away from me I could see a million things he wanted to say. Both of us were stubborn but he knew this was a battle he couldn't win. "Fine, but I'm signing up as a Watcher."

"Just don't sign up to film dares or they could say I'm cheating." He shrugged and got back into the car. "Yeah sure."

"Seungmin...." I placed my hand on his shoulder through the open window. "Thank you." He smiled softly and motioned for me to leave.

Clicking accept, the camera activated and the timer started counting down. I tried to keep my face somewhat in frame as I ran into the store. My eyes frantically searched for a store clerk. 1:29 had passed.

"Hey! Excuse me! Um......have you seen this dress?" She raised her heavily drawn eyebrow. "Yes, of course, I've seen it."

Really? You're really gonna pull that shit with me? "Where is it? Sorry, I'm headed to a party? In a little bit of a rush." She scoffed and pointed behind her. Clearly, she thought it was hilarious someone like me would even be in the store.

"8th floor." I thanked her and brought the phone back up a little bit to film less of a shit angle. I raced to the elevator but a check with the timer told me there wasn't enough time. "Oh fuck." Comments popped up tens at a time as I raced up the stairs. Bursting through the 8th-floor doors I scanned each mannequin looking for the black dress.

Thankfully I found it with 8 minutes to spare. I quietly tried to unzip the zipper. I was halfway there. Just a couple more inches.

"Excuse me, miss." I froze, a deer in headlights. "Don't undress the mannequin. I can see if I have that in your size." A man with quaffed hair and a matron suit said. He looked me up and down with a questioning gaze. He gave a forced smile when I told him my size.

"Could you please hurry? I'm late for a....uh...party." With a nod, he disappeared to find the dress. I let out a sigh of relief and prayed that he could find it quickly. I gave a quick smile toward the camera before picking up the tag on the dress.

"HOLY FUCK!" I exclaimed under my breath. The dress cost close to $2,000. Who would pay $2,000 for a black bodycon dress? I could get something like this for $20 online probably.

The man returned with the dress with 5 minutes to spare. He led me to a communal dressing room area in a half-moon shape with curtained rooms lining the walls.

Rushing into the far right one, I threw my phone onto the bench and angled the camera towards me. Throwing off my shirt and shorts I grabbed the dress keeping an eye on the timer. 1 minute left. I was thankful for the fact I wore a black bra and underwear seeing as there were so many mesh panels.

Writhing around like the demon from the Exorcist, I tried to close the zipper. I could see the timer counting down from 10 on the screen. Comments flooded a tiny section of the screen as I watched the camera capture all of my attempts to get the zipper that last inch.

With two seconds left I cheered and grabbed my phone stepping out of the dressing room. "I'm done!" I flipped the camera to show the mirror. However, no notification came telling me I completed the dare. I tapped the screen, still seeing comments coming in. "What? Come on! I totally finished in time." I sighed defeated.

Ding

Congratulations! $850.00 has been wired to your account.

Smiling I pumped my fist in the air like a dork. "Are you still doing okay, Miss?" The clerk said walking in. Immediately I straighten my posture and got rid of the goofy smile. "Yes, I'm doing fine." After the man walked away I let my hand fall to my side. The reflection in the mirror called me to look at it.

My eyes scanned over my body in the mirror from bottom to top. My white sneakers still looked the same but as I moved up my appearance changed. My legs suddenly looked nicer and curvier rather than large. The black dress hugged my hips and hid my love handles. It looked fantastic. A smile slid onto my face. I loved what I saw in the mirror. I thought I looked pretty.

"So, you come here often?" I joked at my reflection.

"Oh, me?"

"What's your email number- I mean uh- what's your uh- your number?" I cringed internally and physically at how awkward I was even in this gorgeous dress. The dress gave me confidence, but not enough to change the fact that I cannot speak. I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

"Well look at you."

I turned at the voice to find Han walking out of one of the dressing rooms. His eyes drank in my figure with a small smile of wonder.

"You look beautiful." He said crossing the distance. "You clean up quite nicely too."

He dusted off his blazer with a smirk. The white dress shirt underneath the gray blazer with black lapels was fitted to his lean body. The top two buttons were left undone showing the tan skin on his neck and collarbone. The fabric was tucked into slim-fitting cropped dress pants that made him look a little taller. However, similarly, Han's shows did not match his ensemble. The black Doc Martens on his feet should have clashed with everything else, but the whole outfit seemed quite him.

"Why thank you." Again his eyes wandered up and down my body, not in a sensual way, but more like in amazement. "We make quite the couple don't we?" He said with a smile as his hand wrapped around my waist. He looked in the mirror and stuck his other hand in his pocket.

I chuckled as he made funny faces at me in the mirror. But he was right. Standing next to him in the mirror I almost looked like I belonged there. Maybe a little awkward, but less out of place next to him. "What are the chances we both get a dare in the same place?" I asked with a naive smile.

Ding Ding

Both our phones went off at about the same time. He smiled as he read his dare. Looking at mine I couldn't help but do the same.

Let Han choose shoes to finish your look.

Reward: $350

Han flipped his phone to show me. His screen had a similar dare written on it. This had to be the easiest $350 I would ever make. 

Complete Y/n’s ensemble.

Reward: Laptop and Recording Mic

“Milady, if you would come this way?” With an overexaggerated bow he motioned for the doorway. Taking the goofball’s hand we both headed out onto the floor in search of the shoe section. 

Han knelt on the floor below me trying to unfasten the tiny buckle on a pair of women’s heels while he riffed in a terrible British accent. My camera stayed trained on him while his phone was propped up on a bunch of shoe boxes. Another string of cuss words flew out of his mouth as the strap slipped through his larger fingers. I threw my head back in laughter, looking around the store.

A flash of black leather caught my eye. A boy maybe a few years older than me was speeding through the aisle towards the exit, phone in hand. His blonde hair contrasted against his pale skin and muscular form. He wore all black including a worn leather jacket and dark ripped jeans. Gripped tightly in his hands were two bags with the store’s name branded across the middle. 

��Ah HaH!” My attention was immediately brought back to the boy on the floor who had finally managed to undo the clasp. A shy smile slipped onto my lips as he slid the black heel onto my foot. Though I didn’t consider myself a girly girl, I felt like Cinderella. With my assistance, we fastened the buckle on both shoes and I stood in front of the mirror. Han panned the phone over my entire outfit.

“Gorgeous! I’ll take three pairs! One for the Hamptons, one for lounging, and one for housework.”

He snorted behind the camera and handed my phone back when NERVE said the dare was complete. After changing back into my old beat up Filas, the two of us headed back towards the dressing rooms. “Well, this has been really fun,” I said standing in the center of the room. He smiled, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it has.” There was a moment where we just looked at each other, and I swear I saw some sort of longing in his eyes. His eyes looked down to my lips for a split second.

Ding

“Oh, sorry. One moment.” “No, no. Go ahead.” I watched as Han pulled away, I hadn’t realized how close he had gotten. He scratched the back of his head and turned away from me. The notification was simply I deposit from my bank, but it brought me back to reality. “I should probably get...going.” Han turned back and looked at me with big eyes. I couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll see you around?” I smiled and started towards my dressing room. 

“Hey, Y/n-”

“Yes?”

“You look really beautiful.” I smiled at him and hoped I wasn’t blushing too much. 

The two of us then turned and walked to our respective dressing rooms. My smile disappeared when I saw the room empty. My stuff nowhere in sight. Getting down on my knees, I checked under the bench and behind it, as well as behind a potted plant in the corner. I started to panic, the choker on my neck suddenly feeling very tight.

I rushed out into the open. Maybe I had walked into the wrong room? Opening the curtains I checked the last three, of course, finding absolutely nothing. Was I going crazy? Returning to the original dressing room I started to really panic. Did someone really take my stuff? Maybe the clerk thought I left it here for too long.

“Y/n?”

“Han?”

The two of us met in the center once more. He had the same panicked expression written all over his handsome features. “You didn’t take my stuff, did you? As a dare?” I asked, trying not to let my voice get too loud. “What? No, of course not! All my shit is gone too!” My mind was reeling, trying to think of how to get out of this situation. “Fuck! The game is probably just messing with us. Or maybe it was a Watcher? I saw some out on the floor.”

“Han, what are we going to do? We can’t pay for these clothes and we don’t have-”

Just then the store clerk from earlier passed by in the hall. Han dragged me into a dressing room and closed the curtain, giving us privacy. He ran a shaking hand through his dark hair, completely stressed out. “What if we-”

Ding

Both devices went off at once. Sharing a look, we read NERVE’s next dare. 

“No. No way.” Han said letting his phone fall onto the bench before turning back to me. “What other choice do we have?” His hands once again ran through his hair, a habit caused by stress, I could now assume.”I mean I knew that the Watchers were thinking about teaming us up, but this could actually get us arrested!” I tried to quiet his voice in case the clerk decided to walk by again. He seemed to calm a little when my hand came over his shoulder. I looked at my phone once more.

Leave the store.

Reward: New iPhone and free unlimited plan

At this point, I didn’t care about the prize. I racked my brain trying to think of any way out of this besides stealing. Though I did keep my debit card in my phone case, there was no way I could afford to pay for both my and Han’s clothes. Suddenly it hit me. “Technically,” He looked over at me, his eyes hopeful for any solution.

“Technically...it just says we have to leave the store,” 

Han stuck his head out through the curtain, making sure the coast was clear. “Okay, are you ready?” He asked holding his phone tight in his hand. Thankfully NERVE didn’t put a time limit on this dare. With a nod, we both clicked ‘accept’ and ventured out into the open. 

The air was cold and I felt exposed standing in just my black underwear and bra. I followed closely behind Han who held his phone up as casually as possible to film the dare. I had my camera on selfie mode and tried not to let the angle drop below my midriff. Just as we were about to turn a corner we ran into a sales clerk, who upon the sight of us, screamed her head off. 

“Run!” Taking my hand, Han and I sprinted through the store racing in between racks in our underwear. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some people recording, they must have been Watchers.  My laughter filled the air as we maneuvered between people and racks. With four floors left to go, I stopped Han and pointed to our left. “Elevator!” 

Changing directions, we ran towards the elevator. Laughing I held up the camera and smiled before panning back to Han as he ferociously pressed the down button. He smiled when the bronze doors opened and pulled me into the empty lift.

An awkward silence filled the elevator as we started moving down. An embarrassed laugh left my lips as we looked at each other. It was so hard not to look at him. Never in my life had I seen a more perfect body. His skin was golden and his stomach had subtle lines of muscles defining it. He scoffed his shoes on the tile floor obviously struggling to look anywhere but in my direction.

He opened his mouth to speak to me, but the elevator doors opened to reveal a middle-aged couple. Their jaws dropped as we stared at each other. "Okay, bye!" I screamed grabbing Han's hand and sprinting out of the elevator.

As we traveled down the escalator, going against the movement of the device, we heard staff chasing us. The second our feet touched the floor we sprinted past customers who stood in utter shock at the scene before us.

Bursting through the entrance doors we spilled out onto the street only to be met with a huge crowd of Watchers filming us. Cameras flashed as we pushed through the crowd across the street. Han led me to a motorcycle that was parked near the curb.

"What's this?" He said picking up two bags hanging off the handlebars. I grabbed one of the bags to pull out the dress from earlier. "Oh my god! Are these stolen?" I whispered, stuffing the dress back in the bag. Han searched his bag and pulled out a piece of paper.

"No, receipt. We're good."

"Who could have paid for all this?"

"Probably one of the Watchers with daddy's credit card."

I chuckled and slipped the fabric over my head. I felt better finally being covered in clothing. Han quickly buttoned his pants and slipped his arms in the sleeves of his button-down. "Could you zip me real quick?" Seeing him nod I turned around and felt his warm hands brush against the skin of my back. When I could feel the cool strip of metal fully closed against my skin I turned around, thanking him with a smile.

Ding

I pulled out my phone while Han finished buttoning his shirt and pulling on his jacket. I screamed with joy as the notification enlarged on my screen.

"Who 3fanxy's in here!" I smiled thinking of one of my favorite songs. NERVE had given us an extra prize since our Watcher count had gone up 5,000 viewers. Han and I were now in fourth and fifth place.

Congratulations! Your confirmation and receipt for your phone have been sent to your email and will be mailed to you.

$1,600 has also been deposited into your account.

Han looked over at me with a smirk, pulling keys off of a hidden hook on the bike. "Was that Zico?" He looked me up and down as he leaned against the bike, which I now assumed was his. "What? It's a good song! Fight me." He laughed as he checked his phone briefly too. "No, I love Zico. Bermuda Triangle, right?" I nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"His music got me through a really tough time in my life." Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that I was paired up with Han? Han smiled softly at me. He ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. His brown eyes surveyed the area. He motioned to a bench a few feet away. “We should have a little time before the next dare. Do you want to get to know each other?”

The two of us sat on the bench, the city lights bouncing off the buildings and creating shadows on our faces. “So, what’s something you’ve never told anyone before?” His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he draped an arm over the back of the metal bench looking over at me.

“Ummm you’re a stranger. I barely know you!” I said with a nervous laugh.

“Please! We’ve kissed and I’ve seen you practically naked.”

A hot blush came over my cheeks as I looked down to see his hand resting on my thigh, closing the already minuscule distance between our seats. 

“Fine. Tell me something about you first.” He smiled and nodded. His brows furrowed as Han tried to think of something. He drummed his fingers across my skin and I struggled to control the flood of heat rushing to my cheeks once again. The action wasn’t sexual, it almost seemed casual and domestic. Something I found ironic but surprisingly nice.

“Okay, got it.” He smiled and turned back to me with the tiniest smile. Motioning for him to continue, his face turned serious.

“For my entire life, I have wanted to make music. A couple years ago, I got scouted by JYP and I’ve literally been living out my dream since. But sometimes...I feel like I don’t deserve it or I’m not ready. Sometimes I just want to go back in time...before all of...this. Is that weird?”

His bright eyes turned sad as he spoke. It was then I noticed little things about him. The dark bags under his eyes, the marks around and in his ears from headphones and headsets, the small callouses and rough patches on his hands and fingers from writing and playing instruments. The was a tiredness about him. 

“No, I don’t think that’s weird. Not at all.”

A smile slipped onto his face as I rested my hand over his. “Okay, your turn, beautiful.” I sighed and thought about everything that happened in the last two days. My thoughts turned back to seeing Jennie and Hyunjin just a few hours earlier. A car horn zooming by brought me back to reality. “Y/n? Hey, beautiful, you good?” Nodding, I started playing with one of the silver rings on my fingers.

“Have you ever felt like the person you are and the person you are with everyone else are completely different?” 

He nodded and I felt his thumb brush across my skin.

“Looking back on my life now, I’ve been spending most of my life being this girl that is such a pushover. Someone who just went with the group, or even my best friend. Not getting to choreograph, I even ignored it when Jennie took my spot as the principal dancer in the showcase.  Even though it wasn’t what I wanted to do or she hurt me, I just brushed it off. That’s kind of why I’m doing this. In the time I’ve been playing this game...I’ve felt the most myself I ever have been. I can say whatever I want and do whatever I want without having to be anybody’s sidekick. I like this version of me better.”

A glance over to Han revealed a kind smile on his lips. It quickly turned into a smirk when my full attention turned on him. “Well if it helps, I like this Y/n very much.” Before I could respond Han’s phone went off signaling a new task. 

“It says we have to go to this address for our next dare. NERVE is just tallying up the Watchers’ votes.” With a smirk, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to his bike. “Hold on tight, beautiful.” He revved up the engine as I wrapped my arms around his waist and off into the city we raced.

Soon we arrived in the club district of Seoul. Han double-checked the address as he parked in front of a storefront with bright teal neon lights, casting dreamlike tints over Han’s features. My phone buzzed as I pulled my dress down a little further. 

Do you trust Han?

His brows furrowed as he read over my shoulder. His hand on my waist did not go unnoticed.

The Watchers have decided

Let Han choose your tattoo. It must be at least 2 inches.

Reward: $9,500

“Holy shit. No way. My mom would kill me.” I said finally glancing up to read the neon sign. “What kind of flowers do you want at your funeral?” Han said with a laugh as he dragged me by the hand into the parlor.

“What about a panther riding a lightning bolt?”

“I’ll murder you before the Watchers will ask me to.”

He laughed as he flipped through the book of designs as heavy rock music blasted through the shop. “What about dragons? Or Porky Pig!”

“You’re a duh-duh--duh-duh-duh-duh-douce.” The man prepping the tools laughed and pointed at Han. “Your girlfriend is hilarious. Keep her around.” Han sends me a wink when he sees my flustered face, and then returns to the book. The man, his name was Taehoon, then started to prep the area where Han said my tattoo should go.

“None of these are good enough.” “Han, please don’t make me regret this.”

“Hold on. I’ll just free draw it.”

“THAT’S LIKE THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I JUST SAID, YOU BITCH!” 

Han panned my phone over to me to show my pissed off face as Taehoon helped me adjust my dress so he had room to work. After propping my phone up nearby to film he went back to drawing. “Taehoon, over here. “ The man came over needle tattoo thing in hand. “Can you do something like this, but less shitty?” He nodded and a huge grin encompassed his face. “Dude, yes! That is awesome!”

Taehoon came over and laid me on my stomach before giving me a hair tie to get my hair out of the way. The second the needle touched the base of my neck I gritted my teeth and tried to not cry out in pain.

“Han, I hate you so much.”

“Love you too.”

I stifled a scream by biting down on my arm. Suddenly a familiar tune started blasting through the shop. “Ohhhhh! This is a good song!” Taehoon exclaimed before going back to work on the tattoo that was now forming at the base of my neck. The first verse of Zico’s Bermuda Triangle rang throughout the small and neon-lit shop. He laughed when I started passionately singing along. 

“Ow! Han this feels much bigger than two inches!” 

“Chill baby, I’m just finishing the ‘y’ in ‘daddy’.”

“Taehoon! Han, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“He’s joking! He’s joking! You’re almost done, beautiful.” Han said filming the whole endeavor. To take my mind off the pain of the needle stabbing some weird design into my skin, Han distracted me by blasting Zico, reading off the funniest live comments, and letting me squeeze the living crap out of his hand. 

“Okay. You’re done. Go view my work. Holy shit this is one of the best things I’ve done.” Taehoon said turning off his equipment and cleaning off the excess ink one last time. Han walked with me over to a floor-length mirror and turned me around. Taehoon pulled a handheld mirror from a drawer and handed it to me. I gasped, my eyes finally falling onto the tattoo on the back of my neck. It was gorgeous. It perfectly encapsulated what Han and I had talked about on the bench.

“Han...It’s perfect. Thank you.” I couldn’t stop looking at the art on my skin. The thin flowing lines perfectly made up two separate faces. He smiled as I went to kiss his cheek. He smiled and handed my phone to Taehoon to keep filming so we could show NERVE proof the dare was complete. Han pushed a stray piece of hair away from my neck as Taehoon zoomed in with the camera. 

A few seconds later my phone went off with a notification. “Dare complete. You’ve got balls, little lady.” Taehoon said as he handed me back my phone. Han zipped my dress back up and checked my phone with me.

Dare Completed

Your reward has been deposited in your account along with and extra $500 for the Watcher gain.

Another notification popped up from my back saying a total of $10,000 was deposited in my account. I took out my debit card ready to pay Taehoon for the tattoo, but he stopped me. “Don’t it’s on the house. As long as you let me take a picture of it and promise to come back to me for your next tattoo.” He said with a smile before wrapping me up in a big bear hug. 

With the picture taken Han and I exited the shop and walked towards his bike. “So how painful was it actually? On a scale of one to ten.” “I don’t maybe a 6.7.” 

Ding

Han pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped to unlock the device. A bright smile slipped over his face. 

Han, do you trust Y/n?

“Ohhhhhhh do I have a tattoo for you!” I said pulling his arm back towards Taehoon’s shop. “Wait, they sent another message.” I stopped and pulling and looked at his phone.

Get to 60mph blindfolded.

Reward: 4-year tuition payment

4-year tuition payment? I thought Han said he was at JYP? “Holy shit...Of course, they would know about his tuition.” Han mumbled under his breath. Suddenly a loud roar came down the street along with deafening EDM music. A huge jeep came cruising down the street and stopped in front of us. The driver's side door opened to reveal the blonde boy from the department store. 

“Chan?” 

“Don’t mind me, Han. Just finishing a dare. Hold this for me would you, hot stuff?”

He handed me a Twice bumper sticker that was a little under a foot long and held up his phone so that NERVE could see his dare was completed. “I’ll see you guys in the finals!” With that, the blonde boy, Chan, drove off into the night.

“There is no way I can do this.” Han turned to me. There was a little bit of panic in his eyes. “What? No Y/n I need your help! I can’t do this without you!” He grabbed my shoulders trying to keep me to stay. “Han this is too much for me. It’s dangerous! I don’t want to do this. I’m done.” 

“Y/n, please! Listen, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll do anything you want me to if you help me. Please, I don’t have a choice.” 

“You don’t have a choice?” 

“That’s not what I meant. My hyung, his tuition. My parents can’t afford to pay for it. Please, Y/n! I trust you. I know we can do this. 

I looked down at his hand gripping tight onto mine. Han had completely changed. He was desperate. His brown eyes pleaded with me, begging me to say yes. I let go of his hands and a sadness and panic filled his face.  I took the helmet that was hanging off the bars of his motorcycle and placed the Twice sticker across the visor, before handing it to Han.

“Okay...”

Part 2?

REQUEST ARE OPEN  (just send me an ask!)

Masterlist

[matsumi101]

For the promts, maybe 367 with Maria Reynolds, modern au?

367. “I didn’t think love existed until I started loving you”

Notes:

> Reader x Maria Reynolds Modern AU

> Anon i love u for this do u know how giddy i am when i wrote the last part hnngh

> Fem!Reader I hope u guys don’t mind some (not so) wholesome lesbeans

> WIFI ANG GOOGLE DOCS HAS BEEN AN ASS IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIX THE ONESHOT BC IT KEPT GETTING PASTED OUT OF ORDER HNNGH

Type: fluff

Warnings: domestic abuse mention, implied sex

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

“Your Honor, the members of the jury find the defendant... guilty.”

You gave a low whistle while the Judge gave the final words, putting up a hand to return your co-counsel’s high-five without even having to look at him. Your smug grin never left your face even after the court was adjourned, only breaking into a more hyper celebration once you were out of the building.

“Fuck yeah, we deserve to celebrate!”

You laughed in agreement. “I couldn’t have pulled this off without you, Alex,” you sighed. Alexander simpered, taking the compliment very well. “Well, what can I say? I’m always up for the challenging ones.” He shrugged his shoulders, pride oozing out of his presence. You couldn’t blame him, though. You were an excellent public attorney par with even Alexander Hamilton himself, but this case had you on your toes for months, even with Alexander’s help, and the outcome was well worth the sleepless nights you shared with your friend.

The topic returned to the celebration. “We should invite everyone to me and Eliza’s place and throw a party because damn we deserve it,” Alexander suggested. You hummed thoughtfully at his offer for a bit before responding. “I’d love that, but can we move that a little later? I wanna celebrate alone with Maria, first,” you pointed out. Alexander pulled an all too knowing smirk, to which you rolled your eyes at.

“I haven’t given her much attention ever since this case came, and I’m sure Eliza’s in the same situation. Our own partners deserve to be pampered after all of this, don’t you think?”

“My Eliza’s fine-”

“Hamilton.”

You crossed your arms and raised a brow at your friend. “Let Eliza share the victory with you, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to listen about how your hard work paid off,” you reasoned out. “And besides, it’s the closest I’ll get to apologizing for stealing you away from her for months.” Alexander laughed at that, getting your point. He pulled out his phone, most likely to share the great news to his fiancé.

“Let’s have the big celebration next weekend, yeah?”

You could tell from the eagerness in his voice that he was excited to come home and spend time with Eliza. “Perfect,” you agreed. You were about to bid farewell, but Alexander was already in call with Eliza and chatting away with unprecedented joy. You chuckled at him and went to your car, dialing a number while you started the engine. It rang a few times before it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Washington! Is Maria Reynolds still at work?”

“Oh, Miss Y/N! It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.”

You smiled at this. Martha had always been a caring boss, which is why you recommended Maria to her business when she was looking for a new job. You placed your phone on the holder at the dashboard and set it to speaker while you pulled out of the parking lot. “Maria’s still here, why’d you ask?” Martha asked sweetly. Your smile grew into a more excited one, your plans already playing out in your mind.

“Well you see, I plan to surprise her tonight with her favorite food because I won what probably is my biggest case to date.” Martha gasped and gave you a quick congratulations. “But I still have to buy the things I need. Can you stall her for me? I just need an extra two hours.”

There was a thoughtful pause at the other end of the line. You took your eyes off the road for a split second to check if the call was still ongoing, which it was. “Dear, as romantic as your plan sounds, I don’t think Maria would like being cooped up here for so long,” Martha sighed. “She’s been stressed for the past months, and I don’t think she’s taking your disappearance so well lately, to top off the work she needs to finish today...” Your heart sank at the information. Yes, you were more than aware that you’d been neglecting Maria over the case, more than you’d like, and even if she was understanding enough that you needed to prioritize your slowly rising career, you knew there were unavoidable insecurities that followed her wake.

“I’m going to make it up to her,” you replied, voice steady. “I’m going to smother her with attention for the weeks to come ‘til she gets sick of me.”

Martha laughed heartily at your determination. “So please, can you help me out and give me two hours? I promise It’ll all be worth it,” you pleaded. It didn’t take as long for Martha to answer. “Okay, but I want to see Maria coming to work next Tuesday with an honest smile. I miss seeing her so positive.” You beamed gratefully, even though she couldn’t see it. “You’re giving her a long weekend off?” you asked almost too happily.

“Aside from letting her spend time with her favorite woman, I’m sure she deserves the rest for working so hard the past months.”

“Oh Martha, thank you so much! I owe you a lot.”

Any semblance of formalities melted away. “Oh dear, you know I’m a sucker for romantic gestures! I’ll make sure she tells me everything about your night when she gets back to work,” she teased. You giggled, excitement crawling up your body by the minute. You ended the call and finished your groceries as fast as you could, and by the time you got back to your shared apartment the sun was just starting to set. Perfect, you thought. You had more time than anticipated, but you were sure to utilize every second and got to work.

After a dragging day at work, Maria finally found her way back home. She was stuck in the office for a good two hours past her supposed time out due to Martha’s unexpected request to finish some extra paperwork. She would’ve declined it, but the offer of getting a paid day off in return was too good to miss out that even an extra hour long traffic didn’t stop her. She was far too exhausted, both mental and physical, to think of anything else but to crash into the soft sheets of her bed despite her empty stomach begging to be filled up. When she got to her apartment’s door, however, she couldn’t help but stop and look at it.

She didn’t know that today was the day you’d bring the case to the court one last time for a verdict, so all she expected was to come home to an empty apartment, and despite everything still in the same place it felt more barren the past few months. And yet, as she unlocked the door and flicked the lights on, she was greeted with not only a noticeably cleaner living room but also a delectable smell wafting through her nose. It caused her stomach to growl again, and with the new smell filling the place she dropped her bag and headed to the kitchen.

“You’re home!”

Maria’s eyes popped out at the sight. There you were in your sweatpants and loose shirt, sitting across the table with your hand resting atop your intertwined fingers. A large grin splayed across your face, which grew even wider at the sight of her. The table was set up with two plates, a bottle of wine and whiskey (a strange combo, Maria thought), about three dishes, and a bowl of soup accompanied by a smaller bowl of croutons. The food before her was definitely made presentable, and if Maria wasn’t too occupied gawking (and maybe drooling a little) she would’ve pointed out how your outfit didn’t even match up to the setting.

“We won the case,” you told her, your voice laced with softness and excitement.

Maria had to compose herself just enough to answer. “Really?” she squeaked out. She was happy beyond words, both for your success and you finally being there to greet her home for once and having done this seemingly large dinner after months of surviving on leftovers in the fridge and take-outs. You nodded, watching her expression with a smile, but it quickly dropped when you saw her starting to cry. Alarmed, you got off your seat and pulled her to a tight embrace, to which she eagerly returned, taking in the faint scent of the soap you used for your bath. You planted a long kiss on the crown of her head, and the gesture only seemed to make her cry more.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

And there she poured everything out. She missed coming home to your arms every night, but ever since the case you were always either gone in the office at work or holed up in the one at home. The thought made her disappointed, and maybe with a twinge of anger and paranoia, but she had to hold it back. She knew how much work meant to you, and she admired how passionate you were for it. She tried her best not to think too much of it, but the fear of you growing cold towards her scared her to no end, admitting that the effects of her past relationship with James was still affecting her.

You didn’t speak the whole time and let Maria vent it out until she reduced into quiet sobs. You kissed her forehead before pulling away from the hug so you could meet her eye to eye. “I know I’ve been so busy, which is why I’m going to make up for it,” you whispered soothingly. You cupped her face and gently wiped the tears away with your thumbs, and you could see a smile slowly grace her lips that made your heart melt. You then peppered her with short, sweet kisses all over her face, which made her giggle and squirm.

“I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, but I’m not going to let you have dinner with such an uncomfortable outfit.”

Maria followed your eyes to her office attire. “I drew you a hot bath just a few minutes ago, with lots of lavender from our mini garden,” you told her softly, pulling her by the waist and kissing her cheek. Gosh, you missed her so much. Maria sighed as you nuzzled your face on the crook of her neck, already imagining the beautiful smell of the bathroom awaiting her. Unfortunately, she had to pull away from the hug so she could actually get there.

After Maria took her time in a relaxing bath and changed to her own comfortable clothes, you two spent the night together, savoring the full course dinner you made with both of your favorite foods and hers, then surprising her with strawberry mousse, her favorite, for dessert. After that, and an empty bottle of wine, you two went to the couch to cuddle and watch a movie together. Though the film on the television was soon forgotten when you kept on showering Maria with kisses and compliments. Even if she asked you to stop since she genuinely wanted to watch the movie, you only replied to her with,

“Nah, I’m going to spoil you the whole weekend, and for the following weeks to come.”

And you did just that. Your attention was all on Maria day and night, and her heart could never feel so full at the sight of you. You took care of her and she took care of you, too. Of course you respected her boundaries and remained gentle with how you held her, but she knew that with you she was safe. Her initial fears of abandonment were soon thrown out the window. Maria trusted you more than ever, and you made sure to show her that she would never regret that choice.

Maria sighed wistfully, stroking your hair as she stared at the wall. The heavy drapes were drawn shut, preventing the moonlight from entering the dark bedroom. You were nestled on her bare chest, sleeping soundly while you had your arms wrapped protectively around her waist. A smile adorned your lips, and Maria took notice of it when she looked down at you.

You were at peace, contrast to the tired and frustrated expression you constantly seemed to wear while you were working the past months. Your breaths were slow and relaxed, making Maria hold a smile of her own as she studied your features. She brought a hand to your face, and you subconsciously leaned against her touch. She caressed your cheek with a thumb, her gaze trailing over to the bags under your eyes. Without your makeup, it looked much worse, but Maria didn’t care. She loved everything about you, even those eyebags that carried all the success you worked for, and she never felt luckier for having such a caring and passionate girlfriend as you.

“Oh Y/N,” Maria sighed for the nth time that night. “I didn’t think love existed until I started loving you.”

You barely stifled your amused chuckle, making Maria jump slightly at the vibration. “I’m glad to be the one to make you realize that,” you murmured, opening your eyes and ignoring the noise of surprise that she made when you let it be known that you were still awake. You shifted so that you could fully look at Maria. It was dark, but you could still make out her wide eyes that slowly softened. Her hand was still pressed to your face, so you put your own on top of it and moved to gently kiss her palm.

“And you deserve every bit of love, sweetheart.”

The way you said it so sincerely just made Maria absolutely melt, even more so when you pulled up to give her a long, tender kiss. Her hands wandered you, fingers trailing the marks she left on your skin before a hand made its way to your bare back while the other tangled on your already messy hair. When you backed away to breathe, you gave Maria one last peck on the lips before lying on her side and pulling her close.

“You know babe, seeing you like this makes me want to look forward to more of your difficult cases.” Maria laughed when you tiredly groaned in annoyance.

“No. If the next one is anything like the last I’m shoving it to either Alexander or Jefferson. I missed you too much.”

[inugamibeyi]

Finallyyyy I was able to draw my Kemono Jihen oc !  Nota bene : Today, on 02/25/2021, there hasn’t been any information in the manga (I’ve read 49 chapters) about mermaids ! So my oc is only based on the few things I know about the lore and my own imagination. This might explain mistakes about mermaids and Alma !  Now, let’s have fun with her !  -------------------

IEVANOV Alma - Mermaid  28 yo (born on March 11th) - born near Russia   Favorite food : Tonkatsu Not-so-favorite food : cheese (which clashes with Shiki who wonders how you can dislike pizza’s main ingredient)  Udon or Soba ? Doesn’t care as long as it’s tasty  Okay with being on display ? Totally disagrees (has been exploited by a human for 8 years) First thing she did when she arrived at Tokyo : Buy clothes Favorite part of the human culture ? Books (especially whodunits) Least favorite part of the human culture ? Social networks (but mainly due to a fear of being found again by Tachibana. She avoids them as much as possible)

----------------------------------------- Alma is the only female employee from Inugami Detective Office. She’s also Inugami’s first employee, as she’s been there for 6 years (from 22 to 28). She considers that she has a debt towards Inugami as he freed her from the man that was exploiting her powers back in Hokkaido. Alma spent 8 years locked in the pool of a japanese’s millionaire’s mansion, Tachibana Haruto. He used her powers to stay young and healthy, mermaid tears being able to heal wounds, cure disease and stop and even reverse lightly the body’s aging. 

Mermaids powers aren’t very strong compared to other kemonos. They seem to be mainly focused on surviving and escaping. It allows them :  - A sharp vision : Mermaid have perfect eyes. Their sight is precise, they can see without difficulties on wide areas and can even see in the dark.

- A strong stamina and a slower aging : Compared to human, mermaids only needs 3 to 4 hours of sleep per night. Their bodies being used to swimming all day, they can endure longer days of work without feeling tired. Thanks to their healing and regenerating powers, it also appears that mermaid age slower.

- The Sing : Mermaid’s voice were mainly focused on tricking their prey so they can hunt and eat them easier. The song of a mermaid mainly affects persons that feel attraction toward women, but it doesn’t always work (uneffective on asexual person as an exemple) but mermaid can also decides to focus on one person (which Alma tried to do with Tachibana, but it didn’t work). With time, this ability mutated, leaving mermaid able to do many things while using their voice, such as, for exemple, erasing or replacing some memories.

- The wave : Basically, it’s a form of defense that allows mermaid to escape. It’s a big scream that’ll provoc a sound wave, leaving the enemy unable to move, when they simple don’t faint because of the sound. Isn’t deadly but buys time.

 - Healing tears : Mermaid tears contains something (unlike Aya’s thread, nobody can perfectly explain what it is) that is able to heal wounds and prevent bodies from disease. Yet it doesn’t seems all efficient, because what the tears give you seems to be balanced by a shorten lifespan. Alma doesn’t really know how long she’ll be able to live, but she thinks she’ll live for 400 yo without having trouble.

Inugami freed her after hearing the story of a man in Hokkaido that doesn’t age and the other story of a woman who sings her sadness, making whoever hears her voice cry for hours.  Alma being afraid that she’ll have nowhere to go, and most importantly, fearing she’ll be kidnapped again, choosed to stay by Inugami’s side, trying to assist him and help other kemonos. Being at first very naive and curious, about everything, Alma quickly learned how humans’ world works and got used to it. Her curiosity also helped her to adapt very fast, Alma being the kind of person who doesn’t have any trouble to focus and work for a long time (probably thanks to the fact that mermaids have to keep swimming no matter what they do, which helped her to develop a strong stamina and a small need to sleep). She was able to understand quickly the new world she was stepping in and had no problem to blend in. Alma grew up to be less naive and childish, turning into a person who tends to think a lot before acting, making her a good advisor for Inugami. She also tends to be tougher than him, especially on food. She doesn’t want him to eat junkfood all day because he’s too lazy to cook. She’s strongwilled and doesn’t hesitate to scold him on the points she judges important. Even if Inugami thinks she can be annoying, he knows that’s her way to care about them.  When it comes to fighting, Alma’s abilities aren’t the best so what she can’t do with powers, she completes it with training and strenght. Inugami taught her how to shoot and realised her sharp vision would make her a nice sniper. He taught her how to use a longshot gun. When Mihai came, he was able to create her bullets that are effectives against Kemono.  Alma’s relationships are pretty good in the Inugami Detective office. She just doesn’t like the way Shiki tends to ask for pizza almost everyday, despite the fact that she’s cooking for them when she’s in Tokyo. But he is a nice boy and he is smart.  Despite her differences with Akira, she tends to be nice with him, as long as he doesn’t post her face on his social media (which truly makes him sad because he thinks Alma’s pretty face could boost his account). She likes the bubbly side o his personnality, she thinks he lightens the mood. Kabane made her unconfortable at first : this kid just didn’t said anything to her. He was just sitting quietly and watching, and doing the chores. But when Inugami explained her his past, she tried to help him to feel fine at the office, by learning him how to cook since he wanted her to do it. She took a liking in him, seeing a little bit of her younger self in that curious, yet naive young boy.  Mihai... Oh Mihai... Perhaps it’s her worst relationship here. She knows he deserves his place at the office and doesn’t say he’s useless but... He’s just so annoying ! Annoying her, pulling the curls in her hair just to mess with her (”but they’re bouncy” he says)... So she just messes back with him, intentionally turning down the wifi, making some sarcasms... Yet they tend to help each other when they need to (Mihai helping her to create her weapon’s bullets, Alma translating for him documents but also the dialogues for his game and editing some videos for his channel). Guess it’s a “I like you/I hate you” relationship. Then Inugami, or “Kohachi” for her.  She’s the only person who calls him by his first name, both of them being adults and Alma being here for many years now.  Kohachi is Alma’s savior. She’s loyal to him for freeing her from Tachibana. He also the one who offered her a home and a work, leading her to be able to start a new life. He’s also the one who helped her to learn more about mermaids and how to use her powers.  She did everything she could to make sure he understood how thankful she was. She took care of him, she helped him with work, paperwork, she helped him to gain more informations...  With both of them actively helping each other, their relationship sure went fine... Too fine. Were they helping each other because they needed to or because they deeply cared about the other one ? Were they living under the same roof because Alma had nowhere else to go or because both of them wanted her to stay ?  When they were together, they were flustered, yet happy. Flustered by the way people were calling her his wife. The way he thanked her for the food, the way she scolded him for his cigarettes, saying she didn’t want him to have troubles because of a shitty stick. The way they looked at each other, the sweet smell of her hair, the way she had to get on her tiptoes when she wanted to fix his tie... He remembered their few moments of weakness, ending in each other’s arms while the children were heavily sleeping, how they desperately moaned, swallowing their voice in order to remain silent, keeping the night they shared as a secret. And the next day, living as if nothing happened, pretending he stole her shampoo when Kabane noticed how Kohachi smelled like Alma. “ Hey, Kohachi ? - Hm ? - Let’s put an end to that. - ... To what ? - To our secret. - What ? Oh... I thought you were enjoying this... Guess I’m really that bad huh ? “ 

His sarcasm and his dumb playing only earned him a light slap on the arm, as Alma laughed.  “I don’t want it to be a secret anymore, I... I think I like you... - You know you’ll have to deal with Akira putting us on Instagram to “celebrate it” ? - Oh, shit, I haven’t though about... Wait, is that a “yes” ? - What else could it be ?”  As he was trying to light up his cigarette, she smiled while snatching it from him. He knew she was messing with him... Yet he just pulled her closer, his arms around her waist as she was putting hers behind his neck.  It was their first kiss that wasn’t in a hurry, that wasn’t almost stolen while they were sharing their nights together. It felt different. Better.  “ I love you... - Me too. “  They stayed in each other’s arms for a few seconds, now realising what happened.  “ So... We’re a couple ? - Yup. Sounds like you’re stuck with me, young lady. - “Oh no, my crush is liking me back, I wonder how I’ll manage to survive that”. - I just wondered how you didn’t notice before... - I’m gonna break that cigarette, Kohachi. - Wait don’t, it’s expens- “  *snap*  Oh. Oh shit. “ Guyyyys ! They confessed ! They confessed ! - Well... Shit. - Akira ! Don’t post that picture, I swear to god I’ll break that stupid phone !”

[insomnia-productions]

Oh My God, They Were Roommates

A Mat/Rand Quarantine Drabble :D

Read on AO3

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Day One

Mat dangles out of the window, eyes closed, hoping to catch one last whiff of alcohol—any alcohol, at this point—before the bar across the street closes forever.

“It’s only for the next month or two,” Rand chides him, pulling him back in before he tips right out of the window.

It would have been more merciful to let him fall the six storeys. A month without the bar is more than a death sentence. It’s a cruel and inhumane punishment, and Mat whines his protest loudly as he sinks to the floor beneath the window in a puddle of despair. Rand frowns worriedly at him and ruffles his hair gently—which does make him feel slightly better, though he’ll deny it in court.

Over on the couch, Perrin only rolls his eyes. “Lockdown in a nice apartment with reliable WiFi, my Netflix account to mooch off of, and Rand’s cooking. You’ll survive.”

Rand has moved away. Mat lets out a piteous sound, partly in protest to Perrin’s oversimplification of his tragic situation, and partly to encourage further headpats. As anticipated, Perrin rolls his eyes again and turns away—though Mat catches a fond smile quirking his lips as he does so—and Rand walks back over and sits next to Mat, patting his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Mat, you’ll see.” He gives one of those warm, gentle smiles. “We’ll have so much free time! We can learn new hobbies, I can keep practicing the flute, maybe we’ll finally get you to cook more than insta-ramen, we can stay up late and watch old movies and you can make fun of them, I know you like that, and…”

He keeps smiling as he talks, and, in spite of himself, Mat thinks that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be so bad.

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Day Two

“Hey, guys,” Mat says over breakfast, with the widest grin Rand has ever seen. It’s the first time he’s smiled like that since the lockdown was announced, and Rand feels relief and warmth wash over him to see it.

“Hey, guys,” Mat repeats, “d’you know what we’re in right now?”

Perrin frowns. “An apartment?”

Mat’s grin widens impossibly. With barely contained glee: “Quarantimes.”

Perrin throws a bowl at him. Rand stifles an errant giggle, puts on a deadpan expression, and says, “I take it back. This is the worst.”

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Day Five

Rand learns very quickly that there is a slight, slight issue in quarantining with his two best friends. It’s no big deal, really, he’s quite sure he can keep the problem contained for the next month or two without making a fool of himself, and the flame and void have always been very helpful in squashing down his emotions, so really there isn’t much of a problem at all, it’s just—he’s in love with one of them.

It’s easy being in love with Mat when they only see each other in the mornings and evenings, in the few classes they share, and on the weekends. It’s harder on holidays, when the three of them fly back to their shared hometown, spending long days roaming the streets to see what’s new, wandering through meadows and brooks and familiar, unchanging trees. But this? Sharing this tiny apartment with Mat, 24/7, with no work, no school, nothing but each other to keep themselves occupied? This is much, much worse.

Before the lockdown, when their lives kept them busy and apart, Rand could close his eyes and try to forget why he even liked Mat. The man is an obnoxious bastard, after all, and an absolute mess of a human being. He’d thought that being around him so much would only drive the point home—and, in a way, constant exposure to Mat and all his mattiness has been immensely trying, to say the least. He’s so loud, all the time, and he keeps forgetting to do the dishes, and he hogs all the WiFi with his nonstop streaming, not to mention the stupid 48-hour online gaming competition he’s gotten into with the upstairs neighbor. But…

Well, the problem with nonstop exposure to Mat’s mattiness is that it’s also given Rand a hundred and one reminders why he’d fallen for Mat in the first place. Reminders like his bright smiles, or the sound of his laughter, or his ceaseless snarky comments as he spies on the apartments across the street. Reminders like his infectious mischief, or his inability to go five minutes without referencing Vine, or the way the sun catches his face when he sits on the windowsill at dusk, one leg dangling out, a tiny act of rebellion against the virus keeping them all stuck indoors.

Rand sighs to himself as Mat’s voice floats over from within the apartment, blasting out some of the most creative trash-talk Rand has ever heard, punctuated by laughter and the muffled, tinny sound of trumpets and victory music. Mat himself zooms into the living room a moment later, still in yesterday’s pajamas, whooping and hollering and wearing the most shit-eating grin Rand has ever seen. His eyes are ringed in dark circles, but they’re bright with vindication, and as as he leaps onto the table—ignoring Perrin’s glare of protest—to scream his victory chant through the ceiling, Rand buries his face in his hands and thinks, I’m fucked.

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Day Eight

Mat is so fucked.

So incredibly, inescapably, irreversibly fucked.

He’s fucked because he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight—’cause, seriously, Mat is a free spirit, he can’t be tied down like this!—and, worse, he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with his best friend and the person he’s in love with—and Perrin, of course— and even worse than that he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with the person he’s in love with and Rand won’t stop playing love songs on that damned flute!

Look, it’s one thing for Rand to play the flute. It’s one thing for him to sit on the windowsill with the midafternoon sun making his hair look like warm firelight, eyes half-lidded and smiling peacefully every time he pauses for breath. It’s one thing for him to look up at Mat as he plays, eyes bright and crinkled as if to say, look, look, I got the note right, aren’t you proud?

That’s all one thing. Something. It’s—something.

It’s another thing entirely for him to play almost exclusively love songs while doing all that. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s like he knows about Mat’s stupid crush and quarantimes have got him so bored that he’s actively trying to torture Mat just for a few snatches of daily entertainment. But that, of course, can’t be true. Right? Right?

Oh, Light, it hasn’t even been a week and Mat is already losing his mind. This lockdown had better not last more than a month. It had been so easy to love Rand before the quarantine. Mat had had an arrangement with his heart. As long as they were outside of the apartment—which was most of the time—Mat could forget all about his crush. He could go to class, go to work, go to bars and flirt with pretty girls, and never have to spare a moment to think about Rand, save for the occasional errant thought. It was only in the apartment that he would be forced to confront his—ew—emotions. And in his dreams, of course—his heart held free reign over his dreams, but, well, in a situation like this, you took what you could get and didn’t complain.

Now, though, he spends every waking minute in the apartment, with Rand—with Rand and his soft hair and his gentle smiles and his pretty eyes and warm laugh and that Light-forsaken flute. It’s maddening.

“Mat?”

Speak of the Dark One and he shall appear—wearing a soft, puzzled smile and framed with a halo of dying sunlight, as it were.

“Mat, could you come over here a sec? I can’t tell if this note sounds right.”

Mat puts on a grin, resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall, and walks over to the windowsill. “Sure, Rand. What song are you playing?”

Rand gives him a smile and an expression so innocent that it bypasses all trickery and circles right back to blood and ashes this man genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. Blandly, Rand says, “Purple Rain.”

Mat is so, so fucked.

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Day Nine

Perrin has taken to birdwatching. He finds an online guide to city birds, mixes his own birdseed from what he finds in the kitchen, and starts laying it out along the windowsill in his bedroom. Hopefully he’ll get some visitors soon. In the meantime, he listens to bird calls on YouTube and starts trying to match the sounds to the birds he hears outside the apartment.

Quarantimes aren’t so bad, he supposes.  

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Day Thirteen

Rand knows from a good twenty-odd years of experience that Mat gets bored very easily, that he can’t sit still for a minute, that he could be locked up in an empty room with naught but his own mind and still find a hundred ways to get into trouble before noon. So he isn’t surprised when Mat, two weeks into the lockdown, decides to take up juggling.

What is surprising—although, knowing Mat, it probably shouldn’t be—is that, rather than making use of the many knicknacks, bits and bobs, and half-rotting apples lying around their apartment, Mat has chosen to begin his juggling career with knives.

Butter knives. But still.

Rand sits curled in a chair, unable to tear his eyes away, like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion, or one of those Buzzfeed compilations—pictures taken moments before disaster.

Perrin catches him watching and snorts. “You might try blinking once or twice.”

“He’s going to stab himself,” Rand murmurs, half in defense. “Someone needs to protect him from himself.”

“Sure,” Perrin says, already walking back to his room, carrying—something or other. Rand can’t bring himself to look away from Mat long enough to see what. “Sure, Rand. That’s why.”

Well, Rand thinks determinedly, that is why.

Sure, the way Mat’s standing, he’s backlit by the setting sun, and, sure, the look of pure focus on his face is unfamiliar and strangely alluring, and, alright, yeah, the way his hands move so deftly to catch each knife at the last second is thrilling and impressive—but the stabbing thing is the primary reason, obviously. Obviously.

This is fine.

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Day Fourteen

Mat graduates from butter knives to steak knives.

This time, even Perrin can’t look away.

Rand is too busy having an aneurysm to feel vindicated.

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Day Seventeen

Perrin has four regulars to his bird feed window now: a bluejay, two sparrows, and a crow. They come at different times of day, like they’ve organized some sort of schedule. It’s the kind of thing a bird would do, Perrin thinks. They’re very smart creatures.

He reads up on bird diets, and starts to differentiate their feed. He thinks they’ll appreciate that.

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Day Nineteen

It’s three in the morning and Mat sits stone-still on the sofa, almost vibrating with nervous energy and the sheer effort it takes not to move. He should’ve known it was a mistake to have a Lord Of The Rings marathon with Rand “I can stay up all night, Mat, of course I can, what are you talking about?” al’Thor.

Onscreen, Sméagol is making his gradual and indescribably disturbing transition into Gollum, but Mat stopped watching a good forty-five minutes ago, when, right in the middle of the Ents’ takeover of Isengard, Rand had let out a soft yawn and fallen asleep. That would have been fine, but Rand, in a moment of pure slumberous treachery, had managed to lean into Mat, curling up against his side like a red retriever puppy. Now Mat can’t move, but he can’t even enjoy the movie, either, which—look, okay, Mat really does love Rand with his entire heart, such as it were, but this is the Lord of the Rings they’re talking about, and love comes and goes, but LOTR is forever.

The movie ends three hours later, the credits rising with the sun, and Mat remains motionless through it all—he hasn’t sat still for this long in his life.

An hour or so after sunrise, Rand finally stirs, and blinks confusedly up at Mat for a moment before rocketing away, face turned to the window. In a strange tone, he says, “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Mat forces out. He can see his reflection in the black screen of the TV. He looks like a damn raccoon. Mat is no stranger to staying up into the ungodly hours, but this was—quite different. Quite different.

Rand seems to hesitate a moment, putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out again. “Did you—sleep well?”

“Yep,” Mat says, popping the ‘p’, and promptly passes out.

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Day Twenty-One

The birds have been absent for a few days, but the last time the crow came, she left Perrin a shiny clip and a broken pendant, so Perrin is sure she, at least, will come back in her own time.

In the meanwhile, he notices that two new spiders have taken up residence in his room—one next to his desk, and the other in a corner near the window. He names the window one Varys, and the desk one Claude. He knows less about spiders than he does about birds, but he likes to imagine that they like the names.

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Day Twenty-Three

Mat and Rand start working on a puzzle.

It’s an old, dusty thing, a gift from someone back in Emond’s Field a long time ago, something they’ve both been meaning to work on for years but never gotten around to doing. It has one thousand small pieces and the scene is ridiculously complex—some sort of magical battle between two men in the sky, a golden dragon curling around the frame. It’s frustrating at times, or most of the time, really, but it’s nice, sitting in silence together, sorting pieces, the only sounds being low Lofi music playing on Rand’s laptop and the occasional huff of annoyance or short burst of triumphant laughter as something clicks.

They work on the puzzle for a solid twenty hours, and, as the moon drifts idly between the stars, Rand lifts the final piece, hand hovering over the empty space in the puzzle, and smiles.

“Well?” Mat prompts, looking tired but sounding eager.

Rand looks at him. “It’s the last piece. We should do it together.”

Mat blinks at him a moment, before a slow grin, easy spreads across his face. “Alright.”

It’s only when Mat leans over to place his hand over Rand’s that Rand realizes he hadn’t quite thought this through—but, in the night, with only the moon and a dim lamp lighting the room, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Sharing a grin, they lower their hands together, and the final piece clicks into place.

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Day Twenty-Eight

“Think they’ll end the lockdown soon?”

Rand shrugs.

“It’s been almost a month,” Mat continues. It’s sunset and they’re sharing the living room windowsill, watching the orange light flicker across the black windows of all the shut-down shops on the street. “And it’s getting warmer.”

Rand shrugs again. “Who knows?”

Mat grins slightly. “WHO knows.”

“Original,” Rand deadpans, but he feels himself smile anyway, turning his gaze to Mat. Quietly, consideringly, he murmurs, “Well, would another month be so bad?” Mat looks at him in askance and Rand’s smile softens. “Lockdown isn’t great, but… it’s been kind of nice. Getting to spend more time together. Right?”

Mat blinks, and slowly smiles. “Right.” They stay like that a moment, just smiling, before Mat huffs a short laugh, ducking his head. “Light, Rand.”

“What?”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“What?” Rand frowns. “No idea about what?”

Mat laughs again, shaking his head, looking back up at Rand with the strangest expression. “Nothing.”

There’s something in his expression, or his voice, or maybe the dusk light, that gives Rand a sudden flutter of cautious hope.

“Nothing,” he repeats softly. “Nothing.” He can feel himself leaning closer, and it might just be imagination, or wishful thinking, but it seems like Mat is leaning closer, too. He gets the question out without really hearing himself speak, the distance between them growing smaller with each whispered word. “Would nothing be… something like… this?”

The next few minutes pass in a daze, but, when they finally part, Rand is pretty sure he’s going to remember the grin Mat gives him for the rest of his life.

.

Day Thirty

The lockdown is extended another month.

Mat and Rand share a smile.

Perrin shuts the door on them and goes back to feeding his birds.

.

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_40 Dream Scape

There was a road.  It went on for miles and miles, endless road among a forest of bare trees tangled against a half moon.  The wind strummed its lacy fingers through parched branches, what little grass mingled beside the road, sighed as it bowed low.  Stars dazzled the distant cosmos, as far beyond his reach as the end of the road he courted.  It was a territory he was out of practice with, roads he recalled well but he could not ponder on the specifics of his relationship with a road.  He set foot on the this subdued path and it replayed like a loop, no stone or shrub was ever the same, but the night always limped onward relentlessly.  An eternal night that kept him shackled to a land in the perpetual twilight; teased him with promises of a reprieve within a daybreak that always rose and melted back into dusk.  Half risen suns drowned in an inverted dawn.

By his impression roads were not meant to be this way. A new purgatory, fresh kindling to tend his carefully guarded heat, something about the air stirred him, made him slink deeper into the nuance of wandering.  There was danger in testing boundaries; around him deep within the woods there remained zones he was not welcomed.  But the road was modern and it had cut deep through the earth decades prior, a mile more.  He could always turn back, that was a choice preference.

In the shrouded distance something awaited.  It wasn’t there but it was, he knew it just had to be there ahead somewhere and the sense of it needled at him.  Abruptly the sensation abandoned him altogether but by then it didn’t matter, he knew something tangible was there though he could not see it clearly, but he would arrive on it in due time.  There was no hurry, how long had he been waiting?  It was there and it would not leave, if he wouldn’t allow it.

Even when the sharp slit of light hit the amber edge, he couldn’t hasten his pace.  He could scarcely believe what it was that he had come upon, and the sight of it briefly stumped him.  There. THERE!  

He did not go toward it immediately, but kept his guarded distance on the road and studied the slate of color, the self-proclaimed title that read out on its side MYSTERY SKULLS, bright colors exploding in his mind as if a maelstrom of colorful spectrums had never before been witnessed by his eyes. It was here, a van.  THE Van.

The acuity of ownership, of belonging failed to taint him as he moved closer to the inert vehicle.  It was a place, a mobile station that he had once shared in, yet it was a separate entity from himself.  Another identity.  Nevertheless, he reached his hand out as he neared, but faltered.

__

The rest stop was fifty miles out away from the nearest city, in the midst of jagged rocks speckled by sparse trees and stiff grass stalks.  Several groupings of rocks blocked visual of the main road that bypassed the stop, the road itself was practically deserted but for the stray car that happened by.  

Its late morning and the rising sun moves to hover behind a cluster of impacted rock that rests at the base of a high hill.  A figure picks its way toward the utmost point of the mammoth boulders; its rich pelt is silhouetted by the bold yellow orb trembling behind it, a glossy red sheen coats the ends of its fur.  It turns its head and focuses on the figures far below, seated upon a brick wall that chaperon’s visitors toward the interior of the large, gray stone building.  Red eyes narrow and sharp teeth poke through the sides of the muzzle, the figure draws back its head and unleashes a loud yawn.

Cool wind prickled the ridge of fur that lined his shoulders. Mystery finished his yawn, as he stretched all the way down until his toes reached the edge of his perch and his chest was nearly touching the cool rock under him.  He sat down and put one back leg to work, going to town on the bent and frazzled fur that had tucked into the edge of his ear.  That felt too good, and he nearly couldn’t stop himself. Somehow, he managed.  And picked himself right up and shook out his coat, his collar rattled in that amusing way it did that let everyone know he was just a dog.  Plain and simple.

He adjusted his spectacles with a wrist and once again turned his attention, onto the surviving members of his pack.  If he wanted to he could listen and be aware of what they were saying, but the topic was nothing crucial, remedial chitchat. They could do without his company for a while longer.  He snapped his ears high and raised his snout into the breeze and sniffed.  Leaves, roots, elk, some kind of feline – nothing to fret over.  In these areas a case of abandoned beer or some other rubbish dumped by disrespectful guests, was the vilest threat that could be conjured.  A shame that good people were far in-between and few, if any.

Mystery let his eyes linger a little longer on the two on the wall, talking.  Satisfied, he began to pick his way down the backside of the boulders and crept back into a clutter of trees.  No one was calling for him.  They’d be fine for a few more minutes.

“We’re def. safe, since he only takes victims at night,” Vivi was saying.  The computer was working again.  Nearly fifty-two hours on the road, both batteries gave it up ages ago.  Now was a good time to stop and charge them up. Except…  “I’ve never heard of attendants with sleeping quarters.”

Arthur sat on the same wall several meters away from Vivi in the direct sunlight, and doodled in his ‘company’ notebook.  “It’s his job,” Arthur grumbled back.  Vivi was on the case, and her enthusiasm was becoming a national emergency as far as schedules were concerned.  “We’re miles away from the nearest town, it’s the system around these parts.”  Arthur directed his pen Vivi’s way, and slapped his hand down when his sketch pad began sliding off his lap.  “He’s a government employee.  That’s all.”

“No one looks that pale, ever,” Vivi said, hardly focused on the editing of the document.  A half eaten ‘Texas sized’ cinnamon bun sat on its gooey wrapper, all of this perched on the side her knee; the snacks only companion was a bottle of iced coffee and a bag of popcorn (a ‘light’ snack).  Vivi was ravenous when it came to her excessive sugar intake. “Unless he was some kind of vampire, but he’s out in the sunlight.  Can’t be that, nope.”  The rest stop attendant had given them a wave as he wheeled his beaten metal mop bucket away on the sidewalk outside.  What little hair was upon his gray scalp was scraggly, his arms were boney and his clothing hung over his knobby shoulders; he sort of… slithered on his gelatinous brown work boots.  “How long do you think cadavers can keep for?  You know, people bodies?  You know that stuff?”

Arthur gave Vivi a lopsided grin that revealed the teeth along his cheek.  He coughed and tugged his vest a little more around his chest; no matter what Vivi said, it did keep him warm.  “That’s not a thing I keep track of.  I know how long a person can retain if they’ve drowned in icy water, but not post living stuffs.”  He heaved over and snatched his notebook before it hit the cement below.  With a smooth rocking motion, Arthur reseated himself firmly on the wall and flipped the page of the notebook over with his thumb.

The rest stop had a few external sockets under the roofs eave, near the glass doors that led into a visitors lobby where the bathrooms and concession stands were.  The laptop was hooked up to one outlet, and a separate charger for the laptops additional battery was hooked up to the next outlet, while Vivi had the phones hooked USB hooked to the laptop.  They’d save time, and Vivi swore she could finish the reports with this last charge.

“You’re working too fast.  You use ‘down’ instead of ‘done’ a couple times,” Vivi mentioned, while pointing to the screen (as if Arthur could see from where he was).  “Do you make these errors on purpose?”

“I’m an engineer,” Arthur muttered, with a shrug. “A little gratitude, thank you.”

“Excuse me Mr. inspiration only hits at four fucking in the morning,” Vivi taunted.  For a few minutes she worked in silence, ticking at the keyboard on her lap.  She sighed, and shifted the position of her legs dangling along the side of the walls edge.  “If only,” she whined.  She set the cinnabon onto the keypad where she typed.  “If only this place had wifi, I could check if there have been disappearances along the road here.”

The pen Arthur had been using just leapt from his hand and rolled across the ground.  “Geez, Viv.”  Arthur tossed his notepad aside and hurried to reclaim the pen, before it rolled down the ramp.  “I think I’ve had enough with disappearances for a while.  Getting in too deep like that.  I guess I shouldn’t… talk like that.”  He examined the pen as he returned to his perch, a little closer to Vivi now.  For a short while Arthur sketched in his note pad, a lot of his work was in pen and the bitter odor of the ink hovered around his head.  Vivi was quiet for too long, and this caught Arthur, he stilled his hand from marking the page.

“I never really thought about this,” Vivi murmured. Her hands rest on the keyboard, her thumb picks at one of the keys.  “Misplaced souls, lingering.  That sort of thing.  Maybe it’s just something spirits are compelled to do?  I might be thinking this the wrong way.”  She met Arthur’s eyes and frowned.  “Did he… wander like this before?”

Arthur ducks his head from Vivi’s gaze and puts some meager lines into the side of one diagram and traces it, making the line thick. He shakes his head.  “He didn’t… there wasn’t a reason for him to.”

Vivi resumes typing, laboriously slow now.  “Makes me anxious,” she mumbles.  “Like one day he’ll just keep walking.  Won’t stop, doesn’t think—” Her voice caught, and Vivi swallowed a bit.  She took a swig of her coffee drink and took a deep breath.  “Kind of gets lost.  What would we do?  What?” It takes a second or two for the silence to get to Arthur.  He sets his pen aside.

“Sometimes, y’know.”  Arthur reaches up and touched the back of his neck, and nearly bites his tongue.  “Sometimes, he gets overwhelmed.  It happens. People do that all the time… it’s practically natural!”  Vivi wraps her arms around her middle and frowns.  “Look, hey.  He won’t get himself lost.”  Arthur scoots closer and sets his hand on Vivi’s shoulder.  She doesn’t move but her eyes follow him, and she smirks at the edges of her mouth.  “He won’t do that to you again.  Even if…” This time Arthur is the one to choke, and he has to lean back and look away.  “Even if you have to hunt him down or something.”

That wasn’t what he meant to say, but Arthur didn’t want to tempt… unsavory ideas.  He drew his hand back and gripped at the edges of his empty sleeve with his fingertips.

__

There was so much scenery to see, always different, never the same.  It made the hours on the road tolerable, it was part of what made the travel exciting.

Vivi had her camera with her, she rolled down the passenger window to take some shots of the hill valley below.  The sky on their side was clear, but miles away low cloud cover and a thick fog had trampled the fields in the distance below, highlights of sunbeams accented bellowing flurries and vapor.  Cold air rushed through the open window, despite it whistling through uninvited the interior of the cab retained a comfortable, warm temperature.

The radio bubbled with music, mostly it picked up static this far out from reliable towers.  Around every hour Lewis would flick his hand towards the radio and shift the channel to a weather station, listen to the broadcaster drone out a forecast, then flipped the channel back to the former station.  Whenever the backlash of static buzzed across the radio, Vivi would pause from sightseeing to shoot Lewis a curious glance.  Lewis would smile her way, and Vivi would return the warm gesture, and go back to her comfortable little spot by the window watching the thunderhead pass.  

It was cozy this way, being sealed up in their dry little shell.  Miles away sleet swirled across the roads, the air would be mercilessly cold and brutal. The roads they kept on remained free of water or hazard; the pavement wound around bends and across metal bridges, and cut through a small town built into the hillside.  They stopped for overpriced gasoline, restocked on some supplies, used the facilities, and off they were again.

In this segment of the endless road Mystery took occupation of the cooler back, while his companions stayed crammed in the front seat.  Arthur needed a change of environment and sat in the passenger seat, with Vivi crammed between him and Lewis.  Arthur updated a separate report and Vivi invested as much time as she deemed tolerable, in editing and assembling the joint document portion.  She took frequent breaks to lie back on the seat and just stare at the stars.  It eventually got to the point where she was nodding forward, and Lewis was trying to keep her head up with one hand, least he condemn her face to smash onto the keyboard and do unredeemable damage.  Arthur saved the document before Vivi could break the laptop, once this was all done Vivi retreated into the back with Mystery.  There was bumping and a groggy whimper, before Vivi had nestled down herself. Lewis lowered the radios volume, and drummed silently on the dashboard as he scrolled through the stations for something instrumental.  He could perhaps coax a station from somewhere distant, that should be possible for him?

The hours remained tranquil while the craggy road whirred on and on, its extent inexhaustible.  White pools dotted the landscape around them, the high beams of the van would occasionally glitter over frost on trees that hovered beside the road; the world was different in the headlamps of the van.  Different in the lights of this vehicle, the van.  

Traffic picked up or trickled out as they arrived, and abandoned the larger towns in turn.  On the open road fellow travelers became scarce, and the beauty of the night could be witnessed.  The stars receded to the vibrant colors of dawn, runny maroon light crept over patches of thick woods, a pale fog rippled among the bare segments of meadows and open farm fields.

Lewis glanced over the headrest and checked the back. Vivi was curled up in a sleeping bag, with Mystery tangled up in the same blanket and Vivi’s arms.  It didn’t look like Mystery minded.  “When was the last time you slept?”  

Arthur twitched somewhat to the sudden, even faint voice, when it alit on the close quarters of the cab.  He relaxed after a moment but said nothing.  He pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around his shoulders and shifted his legs.  Lewis hardly moved at all, except to accommodate some sort of body posture or to make room for Vivi.  It kind of unnerved Arthur.  “Before we stopped, yesterday,” Arthur mumbled.  “I sleep when I’m ready.”

“You’re not tired?”  Lewis reached up to the overhead visor and flipped it down.  “Not good for you,” his voice echoed, warning.

“I feel all right.”  Truthfully, Arthur hadn’t slept the previous day either.  “It’s beautiful, the colors.”

“Yeah.”  Lewis picked at the sunglasses in the cup holder.  He didn’t want to push Arthur a whole lot.  “I really messed up, huh?”

Arthur thudded his brow on the cold window and watched his breath fog over the glass.  The lights of some town they bypassed, sparkled in the distance with paling colors.  “Lew, when I… not that.  Um.” He reached up with the blanket, and began wiping little sections out of the fading haze in the window.  “I’ve had a lot on my mind, lately.”

Lewis’ voice hitched, like it popped into the radio and out. “Hm.  Since when don’t you?”

“Heh.”  Arthur’s medicine was in his bag in the back.  It didn’t help a lot with his throat, but he liked to think it kept him awake.  A series of low whimpers came from the behind them, it was probably Mystery.  It was hard for Arthur not to feel sorry for the hound.  A random thought trickled into Arthur’s head, and he snorted with the chuckle.  Lewis looked his way, maybe startled but he didn’t inquire. “Sorry,” Arthur snickered.  “I was thinking of something.  Do you remember that one case, the one where I was begging Vivi:  “Please, please.  Save the villains?’”  Arthur gagged a bit as he sniggered, his nose stuffy.

SAVE the villains?  Lewis couldn’t picture any of them actively making an effort to save those kind of people, if he was rolling on recounted experience.  He shook his head.  Nothing specific came to mind.

“It was the one in the state park that was closed to visitors, and the archeologists… lemme think.  I know… villains, it sounds really hokey, but I panicked,” Arthur mumbled. He rubbed his thumb on the edge of his blanket.  “It was kind of a neat job.  Sacred artifacts disappearing from a just as sacred temple, no solid evidence to who the culprit was, no suspects; I think the lore went that the local god – this bear demon thing – was showing up to punish trespassers.  That thing was terrifying, actually.  It showed up and scared the students, none of them could figure out how or where it would vanish off to.  None of this ringing any bells?”  

Lewis cocked his brow at Arthur.  “I don’t see how that would make you laugh.  Though, there must’ve been something that happened…?” He waited for Arthur to continue.  For a while Arthur sat staring out the window, collected, watching the sun tease gold tendrils through a low hanging haze.

“Something about rival archeologist camp, stealing artifacts to sell off to highest bidders,” Arthur said.  “It took us a while to make progress… those guys.  They figured a way of using the ancient aqueducts to get around, but they were like a maze and people had… gotten lost in them, a lot didn’t make it out.” Arthur went silent when Lewis picked up the sunglasses and put them on his face, effectively blotting out the bright gleam of his ember eyes.  Arthur folded down a little more in his seat, fingers tugging on the pinned sleeve of his shirt.  The thing that always shocked him about that case was the nightmares.  Arthur didn’t dream a whole lot about the demon bear, but he had a lot of those wandering dreams.  The ones where he stumbled into the underground water tunnels, and got lost forever in the dark, the cold.  He shuddered.

“Did Vivi… well, Vivi always does the Vivi yes thing,” Lewis replied.  Once she got an idea in her head, there was no telling what would happen.

Arthur nodded.  “Y-yeah.”  That’s how it went.  Vivi did the one thing the group was not supposed to do, and ran off on her own without a word to anyone.  Inspiration struck, and she was going to slap it back or something.  Thankfully she had not disappeared into the aqueducts beneath the temples, Mystery found her scent easily enough and it led deep into the pine forest.  “There was this little hidden road way out there,” Arthur continued.  “Almost washed out and tricky to hike.  We sort of ‘commandeered’ one of those little off terrain golf carts they had for the tourists.  I can’t believe we did that.”  Arthur maneuvered his arm a bit under the blanket.  He wasn’t cold, but it helped him to have something covering his shoulders.

“Are you sure you didn’t catch this on TV or something?” Lewis said.  “I think I’d remember dealing with a demon bear and artifact smugglers.”

“This was one of our cases,” Arthur insisted, through a half yawn.  He quieted when Vivi murmured something in the back, probably shifted.  It didn’t make sense that Lewis would be the one unable to recall the case, he was the one that was gung-ho about scouring the woods until they found Vivi.   Not that Arthur wasn’t impartial to turning the entire forest upside down to find their lost teammate (and leader), in fact he was more afraid of losing her than the possibility of running into the demon bear out there.  It was a crisis.

“It was hard keeping up with Mystery,” Arthur went on, softly.  “We did find their camp though.”  The smugglers operation was well organized, and they had old military jeeps that they were loading up with acquired artifacts.  That wasn’t the problem though, the problem was that they did find Vivi was there but she was unconscious.  “And you… lost it.  It was spectacular.”

“¿Es de verdad?  Not making this up?” Lewis inquired, once more.  “I can see Vivi charging off on her own and getting into trouble, maybe. Usually though, you’re the one that gets nabbed.”  Lewis raised a hand up to his plush hair, presumably to smooth the pompadour back but stopped.  Briefly Lewis glimpsed his palm before he set his hand back onto the steering wheel.  “You stop to look at something shiny, or it has moving parts.  You— but you, well, you don’t pay attention a whole lot when you should.  De la solapada.”  It wasn’t a challenge to get them all separated, especially if something big and disputably hazardous was chasing them.  Lewis had never really given that consistency any sort of consideration, until now of course.  Huh.

“There was no intriguing machinations to tickle my fancy way out in the boonies.  This time, I stayed with the group,” Arthur grumbled.  “One of the times I don’t get kidnapped and you conveniently forget. It used to be one of our favorite cases too.  We took a lot of pict— Mmm, there was a lot of folklore and exploration.  Vivi got caught up in it, I guess that’s why she took off like that.”  Arthur also didn’t want to mention he was kind of taking it easy after having stitches put in from another incident.  He felt like a burden on this case.  “She loves that stuff.  Anyway, you saw her there, so you bombed the heart of operations and went after those guys… some of them even had guns.  I was terrified.  You - Fucking berserker mode:  Unlocked.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth pulled back in a grin, and he elevated his hand like a sort of table.  “I was under a jeep, and when I looked up at the commotion I see you with a camp fire at your back.  You grabbed this big cast iron skillet, the really big thick ones that weigh fifty pounds. You went all Star Wars on them – except it was a skillet and not a light saber – and grabbed part of this tent in your other hand.”  Another little giggle burbled out of Arthur as he interchanged hands, between pantomiming Lewis elected weapons.  “Skillet, tent, and when you started taking down those guys, they started to panic and most were trying to book it.  Mystery, he snagged some sort of sacred urn thing – it was kind of important later, but they thought he was gonna eat it I guess, a bunch of them were chasing him all over the camp.  Utter chaos. This was going down, and I caught up with Vivi and was trying to wake her up.  I kept saying… “‘Vi.  Vi. You gotta wake up now, sweety, the villains need saving.’  I didn’t know what else to call them, kooks?”

The music cuts off as the radio buzzes with static; it makes Arthur twitch in his seat.  “Oh wait,” Lewis said.  “I think… weren’t they trying to get the bear demon out there too, when all of that was happening.  They wanted it to – I dunno – mortal combat with me, so some of them could splint with the artifacts they could.”  He direct a finger at Arthur, and smirked.  “Usted. Puedes echar poco, you sabotaged the engines, didn’t you?”

Arthur made a gesture with his hand and tugged the blanket back up over his shoulder.  “Anyone could do that.  I just did it without getting caught… for once.  The movies make it look simple.”  He pulled himself up to look in the back and check on Vivi, still sleeping.  “It was either you or me, but I wasn’t about to trust you sneaking around.  They’d be like, ‘Oh, an eclipse!  The end is neigh, we should have never finagled with the sacred burial site.  Wait-wait, no.  What is that?’  Then I’d be the one with the skillet light saber and a tent flag.  Was that your plan?  Or did you just improvise?”

“My story was gonna be, ‘I’m the new guy for the bear suit.’”  Lewis turned the volume down when the station chewed the static.  He was sure he wasn’t responsible for that.  “Admit it, it could’ve worked.  If it worked and they put me in that suit, I would’ve been unstoppable.  ‘Dangit. Another guy didn’t read the instruction manual.’  I would‘ve warned them I needed extensive practice beforehand, but they could film me and it’d get Vine famous.”

Arthur sniggered in his throat.  “Vine famous?  Oh, you hit your head there pretty hard, huh?”

Lewis reached a hand up and brushed aside some of his bangs and touched his forehead.  “Jeez, you nearly fainted.  I told you it wasn’t bad, head wounds just have a nasty habit of over bleeding.”  He swept that hand across his chest and straightened out his ascot.  “Ruined my favorite shirt though.”

“Dude.  Dude. Spoiler.”  Arthur held out his hand and paused.  Lewis looked Arthur’s way and waited for him to continue.  “It was identical to all the other shirts you own.”

“It was new, that’s the key difference.”  Lewis stiffens a bit, and kind of tilts his head when he looks at Arthur again.  He fidgeted, slipping his hands up to the top of the steering wheel and tightened his grip, the plastic crinkles in his fists.  Lewis checked the back, then returned his eyes to the road.  The asphalt glistened with tones of cinnamon, transparent purples and deep blues ripple as the light singed the darker tints.  A thin mist hung over the tarmac and coiled through the shrubbery nesting beside the road.

“You could have done part time for the Fred Fazbear’s,” Arthur mentioned.  A chuckle lingers in his throat, Arthur winds up wheezing into the fold of his blanket. “Traumatize the little kids.”  A little shiver coils up Arthur’s spine.  He turns to a quiet Lewis.  “Um… that demon bear suit was infinitely less terrifying than those animatronics.  Safer too. They would’ve adored you. Especially your sisters, they always love it when you bring home a souvenir.”  Arthur snapped his mouth shut, his teeth made an audible click.  Lewis was absolutely silent and somehow, it was more unsettling than a disinterested Lewis.

Arthur sank down into his little ball and rested his cheek on his knee.  He pretended to sleep, even if he didn’t want to.  There was no way getting around it.  There were many things that even a skilled mechanic couldn’t fix.

__

The candles lit at his passing, the flame twinkles briefly before the crisp draft of the hall snuffs the light out completely.  A deep, impenetrable black fog hovers in the depths of the corridor, but at his approach it coils back, receding further back through the seclusion that he cannot reach.  This arrangement seems to benefit them both, but he is careful not to hasten his pace.  There is little to see at all, only a hall and a hall, continuous.  It felt like he had traveled it for years, though he knew that was impossible.

There came a corner and around its side was a staircase. His hand slid across the polished banister as he moved by, gaze focused up into the dank shadows above and their secrets.  Roots slithered down from the upper steps; the barest shimmer of candlelight gave an eerie sheen of red to the barks thin veins.  It was difficult to make out but he was almost certain there were branches too, bent and curved down from the ceiling.  That didn’t make sense, they did have trunks.

A black rock coated the floor, smoothed and polished by centuries of rolling water droplets.  The room he was within felt confined, a small table stood beside him with a small candle atop; there was nothing else.  The light the candle offered did little but provide a small parachute of illumination, there were still walls but no more corridors leading nowhere.  It was just a room, a large suffocating room filled with dark.  Someone had traveled the world over twice, collected up all the unsettling shadows that they could wrangle, and stuffed them into this room.  It was oppressive.

From the coarse murk surfaced a wall, an unremarkable wood wall.  At its base rolled up a corroded metal rail track that disappeared beneath the wall. There was nothing else of interest in these odd features, he knew he had seen it before somewhere and that’s why it was here.  The candelabra on the wall flashed with instant radiance, and faded in the same breath as he kept on his way without pause.  He should’ve felt something for the brief snuff of light, but he was numb to it. His whole sense of self felt drawn back, displaced.  It was that same sensation as slipping into sleep, but without losing awareness.  He swayed.

A door slipped in under the sudden pulse of another candle.  The flame steadied and the door stayed where it was, in the wall, watching him.  It felt like the door was watching him, waiting for some kind of action.  Its surface was chipped and tinted red, a black etch was burned into the upper half. From it came a kind of foreboding regret, the sensation of it was so strong he had to pull back from the edge of the candles dome of light.  It was something almost physical, almost visible.  He waited listening to the distant hum, his own heartbeat, on the stale air.  The door awaited his decision as patiently as any regular door would.  

Without further hesitation, he reached for the tarnished handle, it didn’t need to turn, the door opened smoothly and he crept forward. Another room, smaller, he couldn’t tell. The door hissed shut against his palm and he chanced a look back.  A candle sparked beside his shoulder, its light illuminated the glossy surface of a black pool at his feet.

“You fell,” said a voice.  “You fell, and I pushed you.”  

When he spun back, there was no one.  Across from him was a corridor, a lone candle blazed atop the desk by the wall.  He rushed in its direction, and towards the light.

[paullahotes]

Incalescent- Chapter One

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!OC

Summary: Em just wants to be loved and have a family for once in her life. But nothing has ever gone right in her life before so why should it now?

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: some violence and shitty writing

A/N: Listen, I don’t think I’m a good writer so bare with me this could be terrible! Let me know what you guys think of it!

People say the only thing guaranteed in life is death but for me that's a lie. I had only been on this earth for twenty-three years and I knew death would never come for me, at least not a natural one. The only thing guaranteed for me was the all consuming loneliness and disappointment that seemed to only get worse as each year ticked away. 

Sometimes it would hit me that this was my life forever. The thought alone could suck me into a blackhole of despair, my chest tightening and my lungs fighting to get oxygen. I was thankful this never happened in front of anyone, I could always pull myself out of it before I had to explain anything to my dad. 

My father was just as tense as he usually was with his hands gripping the steering wheel, driving us to our new home. I had lost count over the years how many times we moved, it felt like so many that it would be impossible to even count to the number anyway. With every new place we moved came even more distance between us.

Nothing was ever the same, the only thing the same was my father. He hadn’t changed at all since my first memory of him, no wrinkles on his face or grey peeking through his carefully coiffed hair. He was the reason we had to move all the time, he had been doing so for about three hundred years before I made my appearance in the world. After being in the same town for a couple years, people began to question how he never seemed to age, coupling that with the uneasiness people felt around him we always had to move.  

Keeping our secret was the only way to survive in the world. We wanted to be civilized, living in a house, having a job or in my case continuously going to school and hunting animals instead of humans. We had met others like us, more so like him, over the years of us traveling the world and they were practically unhinged. They never seemed to care about human life, their beady red eyes darting around looking ready to drain every last drop of an innocent without a second thought. 

Meeting other vampires were few and far between, thankfully. My father always made sure to sniff out the town, literally, before moving to it. Vampires who had red eyes were very territorial, their hunting grounds not something to mess with. Even with us explaining we didn’t hunt humans they wanted nothing to do with us but it was fine because we didn’t want to deal with them either. It had only happened twice when I was still little and my dad had moved us to a new town right away.

I understood why we had to move all the time, especially lately with how me and my dad looked the same age. There was no way he could pass for more than a few years as my dad and even that was pushing it. I just didn’t understand his intolerance of me, he tried his hardest not to talk too much with me or have a deeper relationship that I had seen other fathers have with their daughters. Years of my life I felt had been wasted trying to get him to do anything fatherly with me, I had never even heard him say ‘I love you’ to me. 

“We’re almost there,” He muttered quietly to me, if I didn’t have vampire hearing I wouldn’t have caught it. I side eyed him and found he was looking at me wearily, his dark golden eyes became emotionless once again after a minute. I pulled my cardigan tighter to my body and crossed my arms, letting out a small huff. As we passed by a sign that said ‘Welcome to Forks’ it began to pour, loud booms of thunder piercing through the otherwise quiet car. Times like this reminded me that I was half human, everytime the weather even became the tiniest bit gloomy I began to get a severe migraine. 

The whole area we were driving through seemed to be nothing but trees. Huge, drooping trees that were being weighed down by the pouring rain. Rain pelted the car, having not once let up since my father had announced that we were close to our destination. Thick moss covered huge boulders that lined the sides of the road. Deer seemed to be in abundance, practically lining the trees just inside the tree line. 

Bright red leaves caught my eye once we pulled down a new street. The only color besides green I had seen for miles. The tree the leaves covered was huge and almost hid the whole house behind it. The tree was semi wrapping itself around a telephone pole. The trees color contrasted heavily with the plain white house behind it and the surrounding greenery. To the left of the massive red tree was an even bigger green one, a few branches so weighed down with water that they were almost touching the ground below. 

“You can stay in the car if you want,” My dad mumbled to me as he shut off the car. He got out and cold wind whipped into the car before he could close the door. I pulled my cardigan tighter to me again and watched him as he walked toward the moving truck I hadn’t seen before. There were two men standing outside of it, soaked from the rain, waiting for him. They exchanged some brief words before opening the back of the truck and climbing on to begin getting stuff out.

I tried to play around on my phone while they moved our stuff into the house but nothing was interesting. Every article was just another reiteration of the same few stories that had gotten big the past week and I had already read into them. This week I knew far too much about some youtuber who had put out toxic makeup, next week would probably be the same. Endless stories about useless things I used to fill any void I felt.

My eyes lifted from my phone to see my father single handedly carrying in a huge recliner as the two movers stared at his retreating back in awe. The two of them exchanged a look and shrugged, silently agreeing neither of them get paid enough to question it. They moved box by box and pillow by pillow and were done in record time. My father was handing them a tip as one of the movers bravely asked how my dad was able to lift things that were so heavy and move so quickly. 

He chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand nervously. Then he muttered something about having a daughter who didn’t want to move in the first place, so he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. The two movers looked over to me as I sat in the car and nodded in agreement with my dad as they probably noticed the irritation on my face.

The two movers said goodbye and got into their truck and took off down the road. Each turn of the tires on the truck made a wet, crunching sound as they pulled off onto another street and out of view. A gust of chilly wind flowed through the car when my dad pulled open the driver seat door to reach in and grab his bag. He said nothing to me as got his stuff and the car keys, slamming the door and marching his way into the house. I watched as the door closed behind him with a small clicking sound.

The rain and my headache had lightened up a little bit but they were both still annoyingly there. It seemed that I had spoken too soon because just as I decided to get out of the car and go inside the rain began to pelt the car harder and searing pain shot behind my right eye and to the back of my head. A loud crack of thunder sounded across the sky, shaking the ground slightly and making me wince in pain. Gritting my teeth I got out of the car and ran through the rain to get inside. 

The front door opened to reveal a narrow hallway and a bulky staircase to the right of it. I could see into the living room just to my left from the front door. My dad was already putting together the TV and wifi, kneeling in front of the fireplace mantle that had our tv displayed on it. He was muttering to himself about how technology these days was useless and combing through different wires he had in a box. Even with his advanced senses he had difficulty with today's technology, which didn’t make sense to me because he had been alive for over 300 years and watched as technology progressed.

“Do you need help?” I asked him, setting my bag down on the couch across from him. He shook his head and didn’t bother looking up at me. “I guess I’ll go set up my room a little bit and take a nap, I have a killer migraine.”

“Sure,” he muttered, pulling the wires out of a box and trying to untangle them. I watched him for a minute, waiting for him to maybe say more to me. Or maybe show that he cared even a little bit about me. Watching him became awkward and disappointing quickly so I grabbed my bag and ran up the stairs two at a time. The door at the top of the stairs was open and I could see my stuff all piled around the room, I hadn’t seen the house beforehand so he had just assigned me a room. 

It wasn’t a bad choice on his part, it was the master bedroom with an en suite. When you first walked in the first thing you would see was a huge picture window with a window seat attached to it and a small bookshelf under the seat. To the left was my bed and to the right was a wall covered by a bookshelf and the door to the en suite. 

My mind wandered to all the different things I could do with this room to try and make myself feel at home. I took out some decorative pillows and a couple throw blankets and threw them onto the window seat. The next thing I did was put my bed together, throwing on my favorite blue sheets and quilt set. 

The distraction of arranging my room took my mind off the weather and my headache, during which time both had gone away. Though my mood and the weather were still gloomy it was nothing compared to earlier. 

My body felt heavy as I got some sweats out of one of my clothes boxes and pulled them on. The freshly made bed in front of me had never looked more inviting so I climbed in and wrapped myself in the quilt. I wasn’t one who usually fell asleep quickly but as I yawned and snuggled closer to my pillows I knew it wouldn’t take long today.

I shot awake what felt like two minutes later, sweat beading all over my body. My breathing my heavy and uneven, the quilt I had wrapped up in now at the end of my bed having been kicked away during my dream. It was the same dream I always had when we first moved to a new town, yet I never expected it.

There was a woman, completely and utterly starved. Her eyes were sunken in and surrounded by the deepest black, worse than any black eyes I had ever seen. Her lips were chapped, white pieces flaking off here and there with deep splits in them covered in dried blood. Her hair was the same color as mine except hers looked like it was covered in dust.

The clothes she was wearing were stained in blood, some fresh and some all dried up. Her chest didn’t move up and down with every breath, she was still. There was no sign of life left in her 

Someone was screaming her name in the background, managing to choke it out between sobs. You could hear the endless chant of “Mary, please don’t!’ and “Mary, please stay with me!’ but there was nothing else the person could do, her eyes were blank as they stared ahead. Whoever she was she was gone and not coming back.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes and tried to calm down. The dream felt like a memory, a distant one. This dream came around all the time but I couldn’t place who the woman was, I couldn’t recall that I had ever seen her. A few years back I had even tried looking up what dreams meant but came up short. 

Taking a deep breath I realized my dad was cooking something downstairs, the scent of garlic was now making its way into my room. I didn’t want to think too much of it but he never usually cooked for me since he doesn’t eat. He would go out and hunt his dinner while I stayed home with stolen blood bag and whatever I decided to cook for myself.

I got out of bed and followed the scent down into the kitchen to see my dad leaning on the counter while something was cooking on the stove. He had a small piece of paper in his hand and he was staring at it, a look of grief on his face. He was so distracted by whatever the paper held that he didn’t know I had come downstairs and almost jumped when he saw me. He shoved the paper quickly into his back pocket and went back to the stove.

The only sound in the kitchen was the popping of the food he was cooking. We didn’t say a word to each other as I went to sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen and watched him cook.I had caught him a few times looking at what I assumed to be the same paper, him never telling me what it was. I noticed the piece of paper sticking out of his jeans so I leapt up from the table and trying to go as fast and as quiet as I could I went to grab it. 

My success was short lived because just as I got a hand on whatever it was he had his hand around my wrist stopping me. He had turned around so fast, his senses alerting him to my movement practically before I even decided to do it. That was the trouble with being on half vampire, you were barely half as powerful as a full one.

“Em,” he whispered, with a threatening hint to his voice. I stared at him for a minute, my chest heaving as I decided on what to do. Without hesitation I threw my head forward, every negative thing I had pent up coming out in this moment for no reason. My forehead hit his mouth, hurting me more than him but taking him by surprise. The paper was still pinched between my fingers, his grip loosened on my arm and I spun around looking down at whatever the paper was.

“Mary,” I gasped, recognizing the woman on the paper. She looked much better here, her bright eyes not sunken in and her hair was exactly like mine, shiny with life. She was smiling widely, her nose crinkled as she laughed at whatever the camera hadn’t captured. 

“How do you know her name?” My dad asked gravely from behind he. For some reason his words came out breathless though he had no reason to breathe, he didn’t need to. Slowly I turned around to look at him. My brain was going over every possible answer to who she was, trying not to go to the one I was dreading.

“I-I dream about her sometimes,” I whispered to him. He looked crazed, his eyes wide and darting from my face to the picture in my hand. I looked away from him and down to the picture again. There was no getting around it, this could’ve been a picture of me if I had ever been given the opportunity to laugh.

“Mary’s your mother,” He stated, his voice no longer breathless. He had straightened his posture when I looked back up at him. He was now glaring at me, disgust written all over his face. The woman in the picture that I had been dreaming about for years was my mother? He had never once talked about her. I didn’t even really know the concept of having a mom until he put me in school and I saw that everyone else had one and when I asked him about my mom he always ignored me or told me not to talk about it.

“You’ve never…” I let my sentence trail off. He wouldn’t talk about her with me and yet he kept a picture of her that he looked at all the time. 

“You killed her.” He spat at me and I froze looking at him through the corner of me eye but not directly. He had backed up into the hallway and out of the kitchen. Whatever he had been cooking was now burning and sending smoke through the house.

“No, I-,” I cut myself off, my eyes darting around trying to remember more of the dream. How could I have killed my own mother? She had never been there and I could remember further back than a human could, I could remember practically back to when I was still a tiny newborn. 

“When she was pregnant you sucked the life right out of her,” He explained quietly and when I finally looked up at him with tears spilling down my cheeks he looked like he regretted bringing any of it up. My stomach lurched and my chest tightened thinking of it. I had killed my own mother? 

“I don’t…” I tried to start another sentence but they weren’t forming. Realization rushed at me so fast I almost fell backwards, I ended up stumbling back a couple steps before stopping myself. I suddenly felt this hatred bubbling up inside me, I hated everything about my life before and now I could feel hatred for myself. I shouldn’t exist, a human and a vampire shouldn’t have made a child. A killer.

“Em, I don’t know what else to say,” my dad mumbled suddenly closer to me. He ice cold hands gripping my upper arms. My eyes met his sorrow filled ones and tears continued to pour from mine. 

“I get it now,” I whispered, shrugging out of his grip. I set the picture down on the island before slowly walking toward the door. Everything in my life suddenly made sense and even though I had clarity I felt no better. I felt worse. My dad looked at me as I slid the backdoor open and turned around to gaze into the backyard.

“That’s why you don’t like me,” I said quietly, as I looked toward the sky. It was pitch black out and rain was falling so heavily I don’t know how I didn’t hear it before. The sky lit up as a flash of lightning struck across the sky, followed by thunder so loud it shook the house and even made me stumble a bit. I looked back at him before continuing to speak. “You hate me because I killed her.”

“Em-” I ran out the back door before he could finish. My clothes became soaked almost immediately, sticking to my skin as I ran as fast as I could through the forest. My bare feet went numb from the cold and I couldn’t feel the ground underneath me but I didn’t care, I kept running as fast as I could. 

My mind was reeling as it made sense of everything. My dad not taking an interest in having a relationship with me make complete sense to me now. He hated me for killing the woman he loved even though I didn’t do it on purpose, I never would. I was half vampire but I couldn’t bring myself to kill a fly, let alone my own mother. 

I heard a loud scream and was startled before I realized it was me. While I ran my body vibrated with anger, nature seemed to agree with me as lightning started to strike more frequently and closer. This was going to be my eternity, wandering the world by my dads side while he hated me.  I let out another scream before I could even stop myself. A loud crack of thunder shook the ground I was running on at the same time. 

Ahead of me was a river so I tensed my body and made my legs push me off the ground as hard as I could. I flew through the air and just as I was about to land on the other side a big mass of fur came out of nowhere and knocked me backwards into the rocky river. As the mass knocked into me I had felt something sharp pierce my right calf. My body turned as I fell and slammed into jagged rocks. My whole right side getting scraped up and my head hitting hard. My breath hitched in my throat as the pain coursed through my body.

I rolled off the rock and into the water, it wasn’t deep but if I laid my head back too much it would be completely submerged. A sob loudly broke from my chest as I used my left arm to try and pull myself up. I couldn't stop my crying but something had just attacked me and I wasn’t going to die this way. My right leg was ready to give out from under me, a huge bite mark was present, most of my pant leg torn away. As I stood and blinked my eyes to clear my vision the huge mass of fur was making its way toward me. I stood completely still, frozen to my spot as I realized what it was.

A huge wolf, at least 5 times the size of a regular wolf was stalking toward me. His silver/grey fur gleamed in the moonlight. I dared a glance up at the sky, the clouds were parting letting the moon peek out. When had it stopped raining? 

“Go ahead and kill me, that’s I deserve,” I sobbed out. There was no way this wolf understood me but he was going to kill me anyway so I might as well make it therapeutic for myself. “I shouldn’t even be alive, I killed my own mother. I deserve to be torn apart, my father would love it.”

The wolf stopped walking toward me and cocked its head to the side. The wolf looked to be examining me, his eyes roaming my body and stopping to look at each gash on my right side. When our eyes locked I could’ve gasped, they looked human. The raw emotion coming from them was unbelievable. He looked as if he was in awe as we stared at each other. Underneath the awe was complete sadness, like he understood what I had been saying.

I didn’t want to risk moving and startling the wolf so I stayed as still as I could but my legs were beginning to shake, ready to give out from how much pain I was in. I could feel the blood dripping down my face, neck and arms from all the gashes I had sustained slamming into the rock. My right arm couldn’t move, whether it was broken or just knocked out of the socket I didn’t know and I didn’t think I’d find out since the wolf in front of me was probably planning on having me for dinner.

After a minute my legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, clutching my right arm as I went. Hot, fat tears rolled down my cheeks knowing the wolf took this as a surrender and was probably gearing up to eat. When I caught his gaze again there was even more emotion than before, he looked undeniably upset. Sadness and anger all mixed into one. He took several steps back and let out the loudest howl I had ever heard and ran up the rocky cliff and disappeared into the woods. 

My whole body relaxed when he was gone from view but that was short lived because the pain I was feeling before was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Struggling through the pain I began to inch forward, using my left arm to pull me up the rocky embankment. Before I was even halfway up I heard someone coming down, it wasn’t a wolf this time. Warm arms wrapped themselves around my body and pulled me up gently.

“Are you okay?” The person carrying me asked. My eyes were closed as pain coursed through my body. I would heal quicker than a human but I couldn’t escape the pain. I nodded in response to the stranger and let my body relax in their arms. He was warmer than most humans I had met, the warmth strangely comforting as he walked through the woods.

“We should get out of here quickly,” I mumbled, sounding very tired. “There was a really big wolf and it’ll probably come back for us.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my body. “We’ll be fine.”

Despite knowing better I kept going in and out of consciousness. My eyes not opening even once to look at the man helping me. My mind not even questioning how he was so strong and warm or how he was able to navigate the pitch black woods as a human without enhanced vision. 

Before long I regained consciousness a little and felt myself be laid down on something soft, I could hear voices around me talking but wasn’t aware enough to decipher words yet. I felt a warm, wet cloth on my feet, someone was washing them very gently and muttering something as they did. Before long the cloth was on my face and neck, cleaning up the blood that had probably caked my skin.

“She’s healing really fast,” A voice murmured to someone, different than the voice of the man who had carried me to wherever I was. I felt small, warm fingers prodding the skin of my arm and shoulder. “The injuries she sustained from hitting the rock are practically gone. The bite mark you gave her isn’t though.”

“Maybe she’s a wolf too since her healing is incredibly fast,” the voice was female and very beautiful. The words flowing out of her mouth like a song. I was comforted by the fact that it was a woman cleaning me up and not another man.

“She looked scared when she saw me. If she was a wolf she would’ve phased to protect herself,” another voice said, the same one of the man who carried me here. There was a murmur of agreement between the three voices. The man who carried me here sounded like he was saying that he was a wolf and that would explain the emotion in the wolf's eyes but that wouldn’t explain his existence. But who was I to say anything when my father was a vampire and I was half.

“We’ve dealt with vampires and werewolves before, who’s to say there aren’t more supernatural beings out there? When she wakes up we can ask her but until then she needs her rest, she’s been through a lot.” The female voice was back, taking control of the situation. Her small hands stopped examining my wounds and left my body to be replaced with a blanket.

I wanted to open my eyes and start explaining myself to them and thank them for helping me but I was beginning to drift off again. It took my body a lot of energy to heal, sleeping it off was always my best bet. Before I could even begin to argue with myself that this might not be the safest option I was asleep. 

My senses were in overdrive as I came too a while later. I wasn’t even fully awake, my eyes cracked open just slightly as I leapt off of the couch. My feet hit the floor and a shooting pain went through my right calf and up my body, almost making me fall. I was breathing hard as I tried to concentrate and gather my senses.

Three people were standing around the room, the two closest to me were men and the one furthest sitting at the kitchen table was a woman with violent red scars down her face. The woman had a sad expression on her face as she looked at me, my face pinched up in pain from my leg wound that oddly hadn’t fully healed yet. One of the men mirrored her face, his eyes were sad and somehow he was still the most handsome guy I had ever seen. The man next to him was tense and watching me with weary eyes, he was standing in a defensive position with his hands up as a warning for me to calm down.

“Take it easy,” the defensive man said, trying to relax his position a little so I would feel at ease. It didn’t work, my human side and my vampire side were fighting over what to do. The vampire in me needed to be on defense, ready to fight anything that came my way. The human part of me wanted to surrender because these people had helped me and clearly were not an enemy.

“I’m Paul,” the handsome man stated, taking a step toward me. He gestured to the man next to him as he got closer to me, “That’s Sam and the woman over there is his fiancee, Emily. She’s the one who cleaned you all up and gave you fresh clothes.”

“I’m Em,” I murmured looking around at all of them trying to get my body to recognize that there wasn’t a threat. Paul stepped closer to me, arms reaching out and wrapping one of them around me. I let my legs give out from under me and he easily scooped me up and placed me back on the couch. 

“What are you?” Sam asked finally relaxing and sitting on the coffee table that was just in front of the couch. Emily walked over from the kitchen to join him and I looked around at all three of them. All eyes were on me as they got right to the point, their eyes filled with curiosity. 

“You guys waste no time,” I mumbled, wondering if I should tell them anything. My mind flashed back to before when I was laying down on the couch half awake listening to what they were saying, how Paul insinuated that he was the wolf in the woods that attacked me. “Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Have you heard the Quileute legends?” Paul asked from beside me. I looked over at him, his eyes already on me. His eyes were the exact same ones the wolf had, both filled with a look of awe as they searched my face waiting for me to answer.

“No, I’m not familiar with anything from this area. Or any area really,” I mumbled the ending quietly, the three of them all exchanging glances. 

“We aren’t going to bombard you with too much at once. Our ancestors, going back for a long time, have been able to shapeshift into wolves.” Sam started to explain, his eyes darting toward Paul who had grown tense next to me. The heat radiating off of him was unbelievable, it was like sitting directly next to a heater.

“So which one of you attacked me in the woods?” I asked looking between the two men. I excluded Emily because judging by the scar on her face she wasn’t a shifter, just someone who had been attacked by one. They had also mentioned earlier that they thought I could be a wolf from my fast healing so the scar on her face was also an indication she wasn’t one of them.

“I did,” Paul said from behind me confirming his story from earlier. When I looked over at him he looked ashamed of himself, like he was ready to jump under a bus from how much he regretted it. I felt the sudden urge to comfort him, the stranger who had attacked me in the woods, I almost laughed from how stupid I felt over it.

“He thought you were a vampire from how fast you were running,” Emily interjected, placing a hand on my knee. My dad, bile rose in my throat as I thought of him, has always been very clear about sharing our secret but I felt safe here and I doubted that they were going to just let me go without answering them. The way they had taken care of me made me think that maybe they could be friends. Maybe they could finally give me what I had been missing my whole life. 

“Well, you’d be half right,” I told them. They all exchanged looks again and Sam leaned back running his hands along his thighs as he spoke. He seemed very unsure of how he was going to say what he seemed to need to to me.

“We have a treaty with some other vampires who used to live here, the Cullens,” he paused and looked at me waiting to see if I recognized them. The way he said ‘The Cullens’ made them sound like a bigger coven than I had ever been used to but he said they were gone now so I didn’t have to worry about a fight over territory. When I didn’t show any signs of knowing them, he continued. “Vampires aren’t allowed on our land, it’s a rule we have to protect our families.”

“Oh,” I whispered suddenly disappointed. The part of me that had let myself get comfortable in their presence was now tense and remembered how my life usually went. To stay alive and inconspicuous I had to hide myself away, only doing necessary things to blend into the town and not be spotted.  

“Maybe if we knew more about you we could let you and only you, come back here sometime,” Emily offered up, looking over at Sam hopefully. Sam was staring at Paul and paying no attention to anyone else. Paul also had the same hopeful look that Emily did as he stared back at Sam. 

“What do you want to know?” I asked them sitting up straighter and waiting for the real interrogation to begin. It seemed to be two against one with Paul and Emily against Sam, who was clearly a leader of some sort to them.

“Are you alone? Do you have like a mate or whatever vampires call their boyfriends?” Paul asked from beside me. That was not the opening question I was expecting. He looked hopeful while I probably looked dumbfounded at the first question, not having expected it.

“Uh, no I don’t have a ‘mate’ but I just moved here with my father who’s a full vampire not just half,” I told them and Sam tensed, his eyes going between Emily and Paul. They all looked nervous and like I just made them think of a million more questions. 

“How does that even work? Being half a vampire, we’ve never experienced that and our legends don’t speak of vampires being on ‘half’,” Sam asked, no one else had wanted to continue. I bit my lip unsure of how to continue too. I hadn’t really known either until a few hours ago and the truth was shocking and not something I want to tell strangers about myself. Especially when they had taken care of me.

“I didn’t know until a few hours ago either, I never questioned it and my dad doesn’t really speak to me so I know next to nothing,” I started, gauging their expressions again. Next to me I could feel Paul staring at me and when I looked at him he was looking at me like I could never tell him anything that would make him not like me. The intensity of his look, we were total strangers so it didn’t make sense for him to look at me like this, knocked the breath out of me.

“Continue,” Sam instructed, breaking me away from Pauls gaze. I felt myself frown a little going over every way I could answer them without telling them the complete, horrible truth. 

“My vampire father had sex with my human mother and she got pregnant,” I relented shrugging my shoulders and looking around at them. “I don’t know much about vampires or humans really so I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“Where’s your mom now?” Emily asked, making my eyes almost bulge out of my head. How could I even go about explaining this?

“I really don’t know, my dad never talks about anything with me let alone my mom,” I replied sounding casual, to me it sounded too casual. They all seem to be satisfied with my answer, as none of them looked like they were still questioning me.

“This is something we’ve never heard of,” Sam muttered and mumbled under his breath about the legends.  

“I thought vampires couldn’t have children,” Emily mentioned sounding puzzled. “Their bodies don’t change, they’re frozen in time.”

“My father only ever told me what I absolutely needed to know about vampires, stay away from the ones with red eyes and hunt inconspicuously. This is all I know,” I said sounding a little defensive. 

“Your father doesn’t have red eyes?” Sam asked, a very little bit of relief present in his face. 

“His eyes are golden, sometimes black depending on when the last time he hunted was,” Sam nodded at me, seeming to believe what I was saying. Next to me Paul scooted closer to me, our knees touching. 

“Do you know anything about a red headed vampire? She’s been coming through Forks and La Push for a while now, she’s after one of our friends,” Paul asked and I shook my head, I had met a red headed vampire a few years back but she wasn’t alone.

“I’ve only met a few other vampires, one of them was red headed but I doubt its her because she was part of a small coven with her mate and a friend they picked up along the way,” I answered them, if it was her they were in trouble. When I met her, Victoria, she had been with her mate James and their newest addition, Laurent. James was the most lethal tracker in the world according to my dad and it had been surprising to him that they left me alone. 

“Was her name, Victoria?” Paul asked shifting beside me and grabbing my shoulders to bring me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him in surprise, my mouth opening but no words coming out. Paul looked worried and cast a look over at Sam who was standing now, looking out a window into the early morning light. I had been here for longer than I thought, it was almost time for my first day of school.

“I’m guessing you’ve met her,” Sam stated not bothering to really ask or look back at me. I shrugged out of Paul’s grip and got up and went over to him. 

“I have never met anyone who has ever made me as uneasy as Victoria and James did, they are absolutely lethal. James is a tracker, once he ‘tastes’ your mind he can find you anywhere, he does not give up,” I said looking around the room, mainly toward Emily. Paul and Sam had some advantage over the vampires but Emily was defenseless. “Victoria I would say is even worse, she can’t be caught. Some vampires have gifts like James does, I know that much about them, somehow Victoria has the gift of self preservation or that’s what my dad heard over the years.”

“The friend she’s after was friendly with the Cullens. James tried to kill her so the Cullens killed him and now Victoria wants revenge,” Paul explained coming over to us. I relaxed a little hearing that James was dead but Victoria alone could be deadly.

“We haven’t picked up her scent in a little while though,” Sam said eyeing me. Next to him Paul tensed up at the look Sam was giving me. “It’s good to have some information on her though, now we can be more vigilant if she shows up.”

“I can always help,” I offered, the look on Paul’s face making it clear he didn’t want me to help but Sam looked surprised. “I only have school, my first day starts soon so I should be getting to that so I look normal or whatever but I can come back...if you want.”

“You’d help us kill one of your own?” Sam asked sounding intrigued. 

“She’s not one of my own, I don’t really have anyone. I guess my dad counts as my own but I probably would fight him too if it was to save innocent people,” I explained, practically wincing when I mentioned my dad. My brain was trying desperately to suppress the events that had taken place back at my house and focus solely on this. 

“You should come back but I wouldn’t want you getting hurt helping us,” Paul replied quickly. My face flushed when he said it was him that didn’t want me to get hurt. There was something about Paul that I liked but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“You can come back but let your father know he isn’t welcome on our land,” Sam told me, he didn’t wait for me to say anything else or leave. He disappeared to a room just off the kitchen, the door slamming shut so loudly that even I flinched. 

“He’ll come around,” Emily assured me but looked over at Paul, more so assuring him. The last few hours had been a lot of information to take in and I was too overwhelmed to question anything more about Paul. Emily was moving around the kitchen quickly grabbing stuff and putting it into a paper bag. 

“Can I walk you home?” Paul asked, taking my attention away from Emily. 

“You can, you’ll just have to leave before we get too close to my house. My dad doesn’t like me talking to anyone unless it is absolutely necessary,” He frowned when I said it but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

“Here you go, some breakfast and lunch since we kept you so long and you’re running late for your first day,” Emily handed me the paper bag she had been filling. She had a wide, cheerful smile on her face as she waved Paul and I off.

My heart hammered in my chest at all the possibilities of my new home. In a matter of hours of being here I learned so much, way more than my dad had ever wanted me to know. I felt like I was going to be able to finally become independent from him and able to set my own course in life. I didn’t know what the end result would look like but I knew it was happening.

Tagged:

@angelenemies @twilightxcx

[togetbetter501]

Another Ravenclaw

So I download an app to get rid of being bored. It’s bottled up. You send a message with a bottle and if the person got your bottle accepts your bottle, you start to talk. One day, I got a bottle and I saw the owner of the bottle is from Ravenclaw too. I thought that person can be Harry Potter fan too because I never seen a boy from Ravenclaw and I wanted to talk with someone who can understand my love for Harry Potter. So I accepted his bottle and we started to talk. I wasn’t care about it first, so I told him lots of things and he was always so kind to me. He said he was like Voldemort and he has no feelings because he killed them. He said his friends always say that he is like a Voldemort and that makes me so sad. Days passed when we kept texting and one day I said him that I watched a wonderful movie and it was like how my love life would be. I said One Day and 500 Days of Summer were how would my love life would be. After that he watched these two movies without even I ask for him to do. So I felt selfish about it and asked him for suggesting me two movies. I watched the one he suggested, The Forest. It was quıte scarry but I watched it all of it. And then while we were talking he said he is going to commit a suicide when he can go that suicide forest in Japan. After that, I asked for him not to do that, and he made a promise that he won’t do it before reading my 5 books. So after that, I keep texting him like madly. We talked about lots of things. And I said it’s my talent to make people gets bored of me. He asked if it was a challenge and he said I was coward after I said no. Then I accepted his challenge because I thought If I accept it, he can be happy and live longer. So he said if he wins, I have to give him a very long kiss from lips and I said fine because we are from different country and he can’t get his kiss if he wins. I said if I win, he has to write a poem for me. And we didn’t pick a date because I didn’t want him to run away from me. So after that, I kept trying to annoy him. He wasn’t like flirting horny men and he was very understanding. We kept talking days after days and I realised that I don’t want to lose him. So I asked if he has an instagram account and I said I don’t want to lose him if something happens to the app. He said he had before but he opened again after I insisted. So I looked at his account and saw a picture of a cup he was holding. That post from the day he opened again and that cup has a story that we both shared. When we were talking, I said I love mulled wine and it was kinda my favorite drink, so the next day he went to try mulled wine for me. So we kept talking from dms. I wrote him from app that saying I met someone, that person accepted a challenge, I asked what should I do to him so he can lose it, and told him to help me. And while were talking I said nobody wants to watch a movie with me and they can’t stand me because I talk too much and react too much. So we watched a movie that he picked, at the same time. We kept texting each other while we were watching Passengers. He said it was so much fun to watch it with me. I noticed I wanted to watch lots of movie with him, so I said he can get annoyed after 2 or 3 times.So he asked if it was another challenge and I said no. He got so excited and said If he wins, I have to comment ‘’I love you -his name-’’ on his last post. I overreacted and said I don’t even say that to my mom and it’s not easy for me to do that because his followers can get wrong and bla bla bla. In that moment I thought he wanted me to do that, so he can have fun with his friends about how stupid I am. I said it’s easy to watch 3 movies with me and he asked how many movies we should watch and I said 100 because I really wanted to have much more time with him but I didn’t think he would accept. He said deal and if he wins, I have to post a photo and write ‘’I love you, -his name-’’. So I thıught it was okay because I can find a loop hole even if he wins.But if I win, he has to write a song for me. So we watched The Greatest Showman as a starter of the challenge.It was so difficult to talk because he was working a lot. So six days ago, Saturday, an Italian boy that I talked a little and only about bread asked me if I can be friends with his Turkish friend and he said she was feeling sad. So I added and texted her on instagram after he insisted a lot. I realised that she was the perfect girl and she has everything I wanted for myself. So while I was talking with her, she acted like she wasn’t interest in to talk with me and she insulted me with flirting with everyone but I didn’t flirt with that Italian boy. While we were talking,she started to look down on me. The more I talked with her, the worse I started to feel bad about myself. So I said to the boy who has 2 challenge with me, that I met a perfect girl, she was making me feel worse, I didn’t want to use my phone for a while, I need some time to improve myself, so he won’t get bored of me and I said I hope that he wouldn’t think he wins and he should give me sometime.He asked if is because of her and should he talk to her and he said he doesn’t care who is she and if she would hurted me, she would regret it. He said he needed me and I said he doesn’t need anyone and he can survive few days without me. He really begged to me to stop talking with her. I didn’t reply to him and I had a total mental breakdown that saturday. I cried whole day and night and thought nobody likes me and needs me in their life. He texted me after I went, even though he was on night shift. So the day after that mental breakdown, I replied to him at noon on Sunday. I apologised for everything and he helped me to get some courage to blocked her. So I apologised to her and blocked her. But I wasn’t feeling well because I fried my brain the day before. He got happy and I came even though I didn’t recover fully. So we played Q&A and I asked him a few question. ‘’What is the last lie you told and when?’’, I asked him and he said ‘’I’am alright’’. I said I hope he didn’t lie to me and he said he lied when his friend asked if he was okay, the day I went offline. I said If he was feeling bad, he should tell me, because If he would, I wouldn’t went. He said it was after I went offline, I wasn’t there and I asked for time. I said I never shut my wifi after we started to talk and he can text me whenever he feels bad. So we talked and talked. Yesterday, I lied him and said I started to talk with her and she was making me sad. He begged for me to stop talking with her and he said he can text her after I said I can’t no to her. So I told him my other account name because I wanted to know what would he write. He was so caring. So we were talking and he said his lover left him when he was in the army, even though his lover promised to wait him. So we watched the second movie after he asked if we could watch it because he never seen them. It was so good to watch with him even though his wifi didn’t work much and he got annoyed to his computer. It was too funny to see that side of him. But I realised he doesn’t ask questions to get to know me better. He is in love Hatsune Miku and sometimes he sends me photos of her and I reply with nice comments to her. But I realised the most hurtful truth ever, he wanted me to post a photo with saying Ily to him because he can show his ex and he can make her jealous. That trutht hurts like hell because I do everything for him and I answer back as soon as he writes. And I can’t sleep without reading our daily texts. I don’t know if I like him, because I never like someone romantically before and I don’t know what to do if I will be platonic.And in deep down of my heart, I wish for him to win the first challenge and come here to get it. It would be awesome dream come true for me. But I think he enjoys that he found a clown like me. I don’t know what to do because we are talking for 2 months. Help! I need help! Somebody helps me about this situation because I am hopeless.

[momentofmemory]

it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day? 

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it. 

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

[purplebenjy]

Barlights || AU 2018

“Amycus. Come on. You’ve got to let me in.”

Benjy’s arms cross over his mesh shirt, partially in agitation partially to try to warm himself up. 

“It’s fucking cold out here, man.” 

Amycus for his part, genuinely looks the part when he sighs and shakes his head. 

“Can’t do it, Benj. I know you’re not eighteen.”

Benjy scoffs, his breath turns into a poof of smoke in the air that lights up pink from the Lagoon’s neon sign. It was a seedy, shithole gay bar-and thus the best place for rich closeted men to frequent. If people recognized them, they were either in the same boat or too blitzed to care. And even recognition was difficult inside the club with it’s nearly pitch dark lighting and constant color changing and flashing lights. 

Benjy has been going pretty consistently over the past two years, that was, until last week, when someone snitched on him to Oscar. A lot of the other men he worked with were jealous of Benjy’s ability to both appeal to and woo the higher end clients. It was a side effect of growing up in the Black’s various mansions-even if he was just their Show and Tell only foster child. When there were big events, chances for Mr. Black to look good and devoted, they rolled Benjy out, droning on and on about how full he made their lives-their only son.  As soon as the cameras left, they went back to ignoring him save for a weekly chore list he had to work on-nevermind the girls never had to lift a finger. Still, even being basically a servant, Benjy had picked up on a thing or two-including a decently posh accent. He had a client tell him one time that paying him for sex didn’t seem as dirty because Benjy didn’t seem as dirty. He still isn’t sure if it was a compliment or not, but it definitely stuck with him. If anything, Benjy has ramped up the poshness, embodying the dutiful doting nature of too many of the women he had witnessed in his foster mother’s inner circle. And it worked.The men ate it up and he was making more money than he ever had before in his life-clearly someone had tipped Amycus off in an effort to try to move in on his business.

“You don’t know I’m not eighteen.” He says easily as he steps into Amycus’s personal space. He’s not ugly-not that that matters anymore- with big broad shoulders and dark almost perfect skin. He’s got some sort of scar that looks like a burn mark on his neck-Benjy bets it’d be sensitive if he kissed it. Amycus’s brown eyes watch him warily as Benjy produces an ID.

“See? Eighteen.”

“According to that, you’re twenty.”

“Yeah.” Benjy says easily, not missing a beat. Lying is so easy at this point it’s basically his second language. 

“Benjy, this is an even worse fake than last week’s.”

Benjy sighs, takes a step closer.

“Maybe we can work something out?” His voice is low, his touch soft as he traces the outside of Amycus’s thumb around his fake ID. For his part, Amycus’s breath hitches just slightly.

“I don’t sleep with little boys.”

“Who’s little? I’m twenty-one.”

“Twenty.” 

Benjy laughs. “Sure.”

He leans forward and carefully kisses the spot on his neck, smiling when he feels Amycus melt under his lips. That never got old-regardless of who it was or how much he was making. After a few more kisses, Amycus’s strong hands pull Benjy away, resting on the outside of his arms. He’s trying and failing not to smile as he speaks, holding Benjy in place.

“You’re something else.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Amycus’s smile wins out and Benjy smiles back. He is pretty cute. A small part of him wonders if he could push this further-get Amycus to claim him permanently, but he pushes that pipe dream away as soon as it crosses his mind.

“Go ahead.” Amycus says, nodding to the three older men who have materialized out of the shadows. After they enter the club, Amycus turns back to him, still holding him at arm’s length.

“How the hell’d you end up here anyway, Benjy?”

Benjy shrugs as best he can.

“How does anyone?”

He remembers briefly. Andy popping up in his room at 2 in the morning, whisper yelling at him in a hushed voice  that Narcissa had seen him kissing his friend Ollie before Benjy got out of his car. How she just told The Blacks-how her father was planning on sending him to some sort of camp in the morning. She’d helped him pack and given him one hundred quid she’d stolen. That first couple of months spent bouncing between shelters and motels and the street, texting Andy when he could find Wifi, trying to survive. He’d found a job cleaning office buildings until his coworker and eventual room mate Gideon showed him just how much he could make on the street. Gideon introduced him to Barty who, for 40% of what he earned, let Benjy stay in the run down apartment building his family owned. Barty, who was expecting a big amount of money from him tonight and would do lord knows what if he didn’t bring it to him.

“Come on, Amy. Please?” 

Amycus knew Barty-that was how they ended up at this club in the first place. Amycus sighs, Benjy tries again, speaking quickly.

“It’s not like anyone is gonna call about me being in there-there's too many risks and too much loss for everyone if the Lagoon shuts down. Come on. I won’t even drink. I promise.”

Amycus chuckles slightly.

“You promise, huh?”

Benjy nods really enthusiastically. 

“Yep. Hate drinking when I do this anyway. I really need the money, mate. Can you help me out?”

Amycus’s eyes meet his and Benjy knows he’s won.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November. November 23rd.”

Amycus drags his fingers slowly down Benjy’s arms, making him shiver.

“If I let you in-and you don’t drink-and you’re still on the scene by your birthday...maybe I’ll let you pay me back.”

Benjy grins.

“Does that mean I get to go in?”

Amycus rolls his eyes good naturedly. 

“Fine. But if you drink-”

“I won’t.”

Benjy closes the distance between them and gives Amycus a sweet kiss on the lips. He tastes like cough drops and cigarettes.

“A taste of what’s to come in November. There’s no way I’ll be anywhere else.”

But Benjy had no idea how wrong he was.

~

It’s been a relatively good night, and Benjy’s only been inside for an hour. Someone had pulled him into the alley and paid him for a blowjob that had lasted maybe three minutes-easiest fifty bucks he’d made. The man left without looking at him and that had stopped hurting a long time ago. Benjy stands, counting the money again as he put it in his pocket, and heads towards the side door, sneaking back in. A few people leer at him as he makes his way through the crowd, but he’s expecting it. He’s in what he calls his uniform-or one of the versions of it. Black mesh shirt so he can show off the tattoos on his chest-face shaved, his long dark back in a small ponytail with a few pieces springing out to frame his face. He’s got on tight faux leather pants-glorified leggings really-with nothing on underneath to allow the easiest access to his body as possible. Most of his clients liked to fuck him in the alley behind the bar, or, if they were really feeling fancy, the backseats of their luxury cars. He’d learned early on that underwear just got in the way. He has on his old beaten up Doc Martens that were a size too big-easy to slip on and off and also good for a well placed kick if he needed to get away. He’d been lucky in that aspect, though Benjy suspected that had largely to do with Barty and his nearly constant stream of blackmail threats if clients didn’t pay or got too aggressive.

He smiles at the bartender and one of the owners-Alecto-who sort of smiles back. She always gives him shit but she also looks out for all the boys who come through there, kicking out and banning the particularly nasty older men.

“Diet Coke please, Lecto.” 

“And?”

Benjy smiles at her. “Ice cubes.”

She rolls her eyes and starts making his drink. Benjy turns around from the counter, his back pressed against the bar as he surveys the crowd.

“Kept your promise, I see.” 

The sound of someone else startles him, but Benjy recovers quickly, glancing to his left at the sound of the voice.

And his heart stops.

He’s looking at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s got green blue eyes that sparkle when they meet Benjy’s, perfectly coiffed dirty blonde hair. He’s got the perfect amount of stubble on his strong jawline and the only thing that takes Benjy’s eyes away from that is his perfect, white smile. It feels like the swallows tattooed on Benjy’s collarbone are swooping in his stomach when this stranger licks his lips.

“Uh…” Benjy says, turning himself to fully face this man. “What are you talking about?”

The stranger jerks his head to the front door.

“Your promise. To Amycus. Not to drink. I heard you two talking on my way in.”

Benjy’s eyes must grow wide cause the Stranger’s smile grows.

“Your secret is safe with me, Benjy.”

Oh the way he says his name makes him want to sink to the ground right there, but he resists-he doesn't really get a choice as to when he does that these days. He smiles, still not taking his eyes off of this stranger.

“I appreciate that.”

“Is it short for anything? Benjy?”

Why does it feel like he’s looking through him when he talks? And why is Benjy desperate to know what he sees? 

“Uh, yeah. Benjamin.”

The stranger hums, finally looking away when Alecto puts a drink down beside Benjy’s still untouched Diet Coke.

“I like that.”

“Then you can call me it.”

The stranger smiles as he takes a drink of his gin. 

“You’re pretty adorable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” 

Benjy grins when the stranger laughs. 

“God, you’re a touch cheeky too? It’s almost unfair.”

Benjy takes a sip of diet coke to wash the taste of his last client out of his mouth.

“What’s unfair, handsome?”

“That I have to go through a few hoops before I get to have you.”

Benjy smiles, looking over at him as he slowly creeps his hands towards the stranger’s, not speaking until Benjy’s fingers dance along the back of his palm.

“It’s probably not as many hoops as you think.”

The stranger chuckles.

“How much?”

Benjy shrugs one shoulder. “Depends on what you want, honey.”

“To take you home.”

Benjy stills and he knows the stranger can sense his hesitation.

“I uh, don’t think you could afford it. If I go home with you...I lose a whole night of work.”

“How much?”

Benjy laughs at that.

“Cute.”

“I’m serious.”

Benjy looks in his eyes and his blood runs cold with excitement. He is serious.

“Um…” He chuckles. “Well, if I was having a good night...”

“I’d say you are.”

“...then I’d make about two grand.”

The stranger nods.

“So we’ll call it three?”

Benjy laughs, not believing him. The stranger opens his wallet  and pulls out the biggest stack of hundred pound notes Benjy has ever seen. He counts out three thousand worth and puts it gently on the counter in front of him. 

“Believe me yet?” 

Benjy stares at the money, dazed.

“Uh…”

“You’re not forgetting about my commission, right Benjy?”

Barty appears out of nowhere, sliding up behind Benjy and draping his arm over his shoulder.  Benjy stiffens.

“No…”

“Hello, Crouch.” Forest says easily, and Barty quickly removes his arm to stand up straight.

“Everly. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”

“A few.”

The stranger, Everly, says coolly.

“Look, you’re interrupting something here. What’s your commission?”

Barty’s hand appears on the small of Benjy’s back, gripping his skin so hard that it  stings. Benjy gets the message-shut the hell up.

“Fifty Percent.”

With a shrug, Forest counts off fifteen hundreds and pushes them into Barty’s chest, sweeping Benjy off his school and collecting the money on the bar in one movement as he stands.

“Fine. Now sod off.”

Benjy is shocked when Barty doesn’t argue, disappearing into the  crowd. Everly’s hand moves off of Benjy’s back for a moment and hands him the money.

“What do you say?”

Benjy is stunned beyond words, something that never happens. Carefully, he takes the money, folding it as much as he can to put it into his back pocket. It’s so much money, money he can’t even imagine-even if he did make two grand tonight, Barty would’ve taken a chunk of it. And it was handed to him by a man who he’d easily go home with of his own accord if he had any left. Everly smiles at him softly as he keeps ushering Benjy out of the bar. Benjy doesn’t speak until they’re past Amycus.

“Um-as excited as I am, there’s a lot of men back there who wouldn't have cost you four thousand five hundred pounds.”

“But they aren’t you.”

Benjy laughs.

“What’s so special about me?”

Forest beeps the unlock button on his Jaguar and then opens the passenger side door for him. Like a gentleman. Who the hell was this guy? That scared Barty enough into silence, that threw money around like it was nothing and opened doors for him? Benjy’s instincts tell him Everly is powerful-but he’s not quite sure if he’s safe. But Benjy decides three grand is worth the risk. Maybe he likes to choke and hit during sex-not Benjy’s thing at all for for three thousand pounds? He’d do about anything. 

“Do you always question your...suitors like this?”

“Most of my clients don’t even want to look at me in the face or tell me their names, so no. Can’t say I do.”

Benjy settles into the seat in silence as Everly gets in and starts the car. Benjy can’t even begin to fathom what it cost.

“Forest.”

“What?”

Benjy likes his smile even more in profile if that’s possible. He watches him as he speaks.

“My name’s Forest. Do you really have no idea who I am?”

Benjy doesn’t say anything for a second, worried he’s offended Forest, but then Forest snorts.

“Bloody hell that sounded pretentious. Sorry. I just figured with Crouch saying my last name you’d uh, you know, put it together.”

Benjy blinks slowly as it dawns on him.

“Everly like….like the deputy Minister?”

“Exactly. That’s my father. I’m sure you understand now why I have to be discrete.”

Benjy doesn’t keep up with politics, but as Forest drives in an easy silence, his mind races, piecing it together. The Everly family has been involved with the government practically since it started. A Dynasty. The Blacks were always excited whenever a member of the Everly family was slated to be at one of their events. There’d been a son, he remembers. Older and handsome. And Benjy was now sitting in his car. 

“You still didn’t really answer my question though.” Benjy says softly, breathing in slightly when Forest’s hand moves from the gear shift to his knee. 

“What’s your question, Benjamin?”

“Why me? You could get anyone and I’m…”

He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Next to nothing is the phrase that comes to mind. Trash is another.

Forest looks over at him as he takes a turn.

“I like people who keep their promises.”

~

Benjy tries to keep his cool when he follow Forest into the elevator, but he knows he’s fighting a losing battle when he pushes the lift button for the penthouse.

“It’s so posh.” He mumbles, shifting between his feet, suddenly feeling a tad out of place. He relaxes the second  Forest holds his hand.

“Nothing to worry about, love. It’s just gonna be me.”

Benjy nods, smiling despite his nerves at how good Forest’s hand feels in his.The doors open into a beautiful, clean, white apartment. Decorated minimally but still somehow inviting. Forest, still holding his hand, leads Benjy across the hardwood floors towards an all white conversation pit.

“Get comfortable. Do you want something to eat?”

Forest looks about as in his element as he could be, while Benjy’s black outfit makes him quite the contrast. Benjy pauses as he gets settled on the couch.

“Um...no, I’m okay. I don’t like to eat before uh, I do my job.”

He blushes and he’s not sure why. Nor why he’s being coy-Benjy’s been on the streets for almost two years-why is he acting like a fucking virgin? 

“I’m not going to have sex with you, Benjamin. What do you want to eat?”

Benjy stares at him, eyes wide as his brain races, blurting it out before he can stop himself.

“Why not?”

Forest laughs, moving something around the kitchen. Benjy watches as he pulls out and pours one glass of wine.

“Clearly you don’t know me well. And I intend to fix that. You’re underage, Benjy. And I can’t be with you that way in good faith while that’s the case.”

“So you don’t want to have sex with me.” Benjy says, not even failing to hide his disappointment. Forest chuckles, bringing over a cheese plate and a glass of wine for himself.

“Oh, quite the opposite. But not while you’re still seventeen. Come on. Eat something? You look hungry.”

He was starving, he’d skipped lunch, but Benjy still doesn’t move towards the plate.

“So what are you going to do to me?”

Forest looks at him, his face softer but his eyes almost dangerous.

“Well I was hoping you’d talk with me.”

“And what else?”

Forest laughs.

“Eat maybe?”

“But what’s the catch? What happens after?”

Forest shrugs. “You can sleep here if you’d like. Though I’m afraid we’d have to share a bed. There’s no catch, Benjamin. I just want to get to know you. You’re beautiful and you’re interesting and I just...have a feeling about you.”

“You shelled out 4500 pounds because you have a feeling?”

Forest smiles, taking his hand again.

“It’s a really, really good feeling.”

~

They talk for hours, learning so much about each other. Benjy realizes he’s never told anyone the full story about what happened to him, but he tells Forest. He listens. When he gets choked up, Forest takes him in his arms and pulls Benjy so he’s sitting sideways on his lap. Nothing sexual, just close. He holds him and he lets him be sad. Benjy can never remember ever feeling as safe as he does then. He listens to-about how hard Forest struggled, how when he told his dad he might be gay he beat him until he almost died. And how after Forest had left the hospital-the papers had reported it as a motorcycle accident-he was sent to the camp that Benjy had been supposed to go to. Changed, tortured and broken, Forest had done everything he was supposed to, and the second he got the chance, pretended to be ‘cured.’

“I’ve made a big enough name for myself now.” Forest says, handing Benjy another slice of the massive pizza they’d ordered once Benjy finally agreed to eating something. “That I’m able to have some fun again. And when I saw you tonight I just….knew.”

Benjy blushes, warmth spreading up from his chest and coloring his cheeks.

“You’re going to have fun with me?”

Forest nods.

“Not the kind of fun you’re thinking, not yet at least,  I just...you’re easy to talk to Benjy. Maybe, uh, and you can say no of course, but maybe every time I need someone to talk to, I come to you?”

Benjy grins, still on Forest’s lap as he pushes his face into his shoulder.

“You wanna see me again?”

Forest puts his slice of pizza down and takes Benjy’s face in his hands, they’re greasy but Benjy doesn’t care when Forest smiles at him.

“I need to see you again.”

Benjy leans into the feeling of Forest’s thumb caressing his cheek, savoring the moment before speaking.

“You can call Barty anytime. He always knows where I am.”

Forest scoffs.

“Barty. Please. Benjamin…”

He pulls away.

“I know this is crazy, and I know it’s too fast-but, well, I was thinking if tonight went as well as it did-you could move in here. I don’t-I can’t be here all the time. I have to keep up appearances with my wife, but during the work week I stay here. I can get you your own bed if you want but…”

He plays with Benjy’s fingers.

“I like the idea of you being here. Keeping me company. Telling me about yourself. And I just can’t stand the thought of you being out there-other people touching you...hurting you. I want to help you, Benjy. I want you to stay safe. I can keep you safe. And you can keep me company.”

Benjy’s head is swimming but he feels like he’s floating, not actually believing what he’s hearing.

“You want me to live with you?”

Forest chuckles.

“It’s too fast. I know.”

“You want me to live...here?”

Benjy looks over Forest’s shoulder into the rest of the apartment.

“Do you want to?”

Benjy grins. 

“I mean, I don’t know-I haven’t even seen the bedroom-”

Forest laughs and Benjy feels like he’s won something.

“Are you saying yes?”

“There’s really no catch?”

Forest shrugs.

“Well I mean...when you’re eighteen, I would like to explore a physical relationship with you. So I guess that could be the catch.”

“So the catch is something I want anyway?”

Forest laughs.

“You’re supposed to want whoever pays you though, isn’t that your deal?”

Benjy shrugs.

“I would’ve come home with you for nothing if Barty wasn’t around. Here.”

He shifts, digging the money Forest had given him out of his pocket and holding it against his chest.

“I don’t want it.”

Forest shakes his head, pushing Benjy’s hand down.

“It’s yours. Keep it no matter what.”

They sit for a while, quiet, feeling how the fit together. Benjy breaks the silence first.

“If I live here...would I be your boyfriend?”

Forest nods. “Something like that.”

Benjy’s face hurts from smiling. 

“I’ve never had one of those before.”

Forest smiles back at him.

“So you’ll move in?”

Benjy nods.

“One condition?”

Forest traces Benjy’s lower lip.

“Anything you need.”

“I wanna-can I kiss you?”

Forest groans.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November. Two months. That’s it but...I can wait on everything else, Forest. I promise. But I can’t wait for this.”

There’s something about his eyes that makes Benjy want to fall in.

“Please?” Benjy asks, surprised at how quickly he’s become desperate. Forest smiles softly at him, somehow wanting and wicked all at once.

“Okay. Once. Then we have to wait.”

Benjy nods as he sits up straighter. Tomorrow, when he wakes up in the big white bed in Forest’s arms, he’s still not going to believe it. He’s going to spend his first day getting used to his new life, take Forest to his apartment building and watch as he covers all the debt he supposedly owes Barty. He’s going to load the meager possessions he has into Forest’s trunk and come back here to start anew.

And he’s going to spend tomorrow, and every day after, ignoring the creeping feeling that he, Benjy, has become a possession in his own right.

But for now, he closes his eyes and seals his future with a kiss, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life.

[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Chapter 20--Killing Two Birds with One Stone

Ichigo had been slogging away all afternoon.  His eyes burned and his fingers were considering committing mutiny, but he had to get to the end of this scene.  Coming back deal with a dead body was a bitch after you’d gotten past the high of killing them off.  Or at least it was when you were writing it.  He’d have to ask Kisuke if he wanted first-hand information.

He tried to imagine the look on the blond’s face as he answered. Would this be one of the answer-without-even-slowing-down questions, or one of the-just-how-much-can-I-actually-explain-without-making-this-weird questions? How long would they need to have been dating for him to start that conversation?  Three months?  Would they even get to three months?

Ichigo shook his head and forced away that train of thought.  One day at a time, Kurosaki, he told himself. You have to survive this mess with Okura before you start freaking out over relationship stuff.

Plus, he needed to focus on the very real need of getting his manuscript finished.  He’d had very little time to work on it lately, but the radio silence with Kisuke was driving him crazy and work was clearly his best escape, otherwise he’d just end up pacing the apartment trying to convince himself that waiting wasn’t a waste of time.

Kisuke was trained to deal with situations like this, or at least with people like Okura, and Ichigo knew his experiences dealing with low-level thugs didn’t qualify him for anything more than an occasional street fight; he’d long pushed past his skill parameters.

He kept telling Ichigo to wait, to stay safe, that he'd let him know when it was time to make the next move.  Maybe Ichigo had gotten to be too much of a handicap.   His position at the Onmi had never been anything but a joke to Kisuke, and now that they knew that the Director’s plan was to take the blond out of the equation one way or another, saddling him with a civilian ‘bodyguard’ was clearly meant to hobble him. Ichigo was supposed to be a distraction at best, and cannon fodder at worst. Kawasaki probably thought Kisuke’s bizarre knight-in-shining-bucket-hat routine would make him more vulnerable if he had to divide his attention between taking on Okura and protecting Ichigo. The fucker didn’t know what he’d done, though, because protecting the people he cared about was what Ichigo did. The fact that the Director didn’t mean for it to be real meant exactly nothing. Ichigo was going to protect Kisuke, damn it. Nothing was going to hurt him or anyone else as long as he was in the picture.

He was going to… knock, knock, knock. A quietly insistent rapping at the door broke into his mental diatribe.

He was going to answer the door, apparently.

His new apartment was technically in the same complex as the one he’d had with Renji, but it was an older building on the other side of the development, and they hadn’t gotten around to putting in much security. Kisuke had made up for that which was good because with his family still out of town there was no one who should be visiting him.  Ichigo reached up and pressed the tiny receiver button hidden in the shaggy edges of his hair.

One set of life signs in the hallway.   Female. Does not match any friends or family on file.  Running facial recognition subroutine.

The stripped-down version of the security AI Kisuke developed couldn’t do nearly as much as the original, but it was better than a peephole or a hackable video doorbell.

Facial recognition hit.  Maki Hideko.

Ichigo wrestled with the name for a moment before placing it as belonging to the woman he’d met at Okura’s office building.  His shitsuji.

“Just a minute!” Ichigo closed down his computer and disconnected it from the wifi.  He wasn’t exactly paranoid, but he didn’t want to run any unnecessary risks.

Once the humming stopped, he stood up from the desk, grimacing as his body groaned and popped in complaint at having been stuck in one position too long.

“If you’re from the NHK, I don’t even have a TV.  And I’m unemployed right now.” He grinned to himself at the absurdity of it, but there was no reason to let the butler know she’d been made, right?  He snagged his button-down from the back of the couch as he passed, slinging it around his shoulders as he opened the door.

“I told you,” he started, sticking with the pretense, and was gratified to see the look of consternation on the woman’s face.  “Oh!” He dropped a careless bow. “My apologies…  ah…   Maki-san…? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She was just as beautiful as Ichigo remembered, but something about the way she was dressed implied that this might be a less formal visit than their last had been.

“Please forgive me, Kurosaki-san.” Maki bowed much deeper than Ichigo had. “I hope I am not intruding.  It’s just that…” she turned her head to one side and lowered her lashes in a move that Yuzu had categorized as totally harmless look, number 3, and actually managed to blush. “Well, it’s just that Okura-dono has been worried about how things have been going for you. He was going to send someone over to check on you to make sure that you were settling in okay and that no one at the Onmi was giving you any trouble, so I volunteered.” She gave a little shrug, “You did say you were curious about shitsuji, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.”

Ichigo shifted his weight slightly on his feet.  Well, this was unexpected.   On the one hand, dealing with anyone sent by Okura was a gamble, but on the other...

“Oh, that is very kind of you to offer!” He bowed again, this time a little lower and with a smile instead of his typical scowl. “As you can see, I’m fine, and everyone at the Onmi has respected my resignation, so Okura-san needn’t worry. But I really would like to ask you some questions about your training and experiences. Could we go somewhere?  Maybe talk over a cup of coffee?”

Maki gave him a slow smile—ah yes… Gotcha, look number 2.  Thank you, Yuzu!—and said, “Make it tea, and you’ve got a deal.”

Tea it was, then.

***

“Yes, and then Okura-dono tripped over the tray that I left and ended up on the floor.  I was so afraid that he was going to fire me.  I mean, that is exactly what a good shitsuji is supposed to prevent from happening.  You’re supposed to know what your master needs before he knows.  Provide everything before their request can even be formed into words.”

Ichigo laughed at the image of Okura Kagetaka falling ass-over-teakettle but couldn’t help but notice that the stories being spun for him had been carefully crafted to make Okura a sympathetic character. Kisuke might play the buffoon at times, but he would never simply stumble over an inanimate object.  Actually, he’d managed to navigate Ichigo’s bedroom—a room he’d never even seen—backwards, in the dark, and with Ichigo’s mouth all over him without bumping into a single piece of furniture or tripping over the books on the floor or the cords stretched from the wall to the bed where his tech was charging.  It was unlikely that Okura had that much less situational awareness; Kisuke would have taught him better than that.

Good thing no one expected Maki Hideko to be a reliable narrator in this story.

“So, do most people think of you as an assistant? A servant?  A member of the family?  You hear so many conflicting stories, it’s hard to know what’s realistic.”

Maki sipped her tea and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“They are all realistic in their way. You see, there are as many roles for shitsuji as there are masters.  Every employer has a different set of needs and it is the duty of the shitsuji to fill those needs.  I joined my first master when he was very young. He had inherited a fortune and a position within his family’s company but was lacking in the administrative skills necessary to run a household.  For him I was everything from an administrative assistant to a proxy hostess, making sure that gatherings went smoothly, and guests were happy.  I left his employ when he married because his wife had a long-term family retainer who filled that place for her, and she was more comfortable running things without my assistance.”

Ichigo could put two and two together.  The wife hadn’t wanted someone around who would make her look bad in comparison.  It was hard to blame her. Maki Hideko would be hard to compete with.

“Then, I worked as an assistant to the shitsuji of a family whose head was a member of the Diet.  One butler was not nearly enough to fulfill the needs of that family, but when I was offered the opportunity to move on to assist one of his associates, I jumped at the chance to run a household on my own again. That’s how I ended up with Okura-dono.”

So, Okura was an associate to a member of the Diet.  That was a little heavier than Ichigo had expected, but honestly, politicians were politicians no matter how high on the food chain.  Okura had money and leverage, two things that politicians needed more than blood or oxygen.

“The hardest part about switching employers is where you have to completely reprogram your responses to things.  You might have a master who is a stickler about your being silent until you are spoken to.  It isn’t unusual, honestly—there are lots of masters who prefer to think of their shitsuji simply as tools, efficient and always at hand, and they pay well for the privilege—but then your next station could require that you handle correspondence proactively, or handle telephone calls and invitations without running everything past your master first. It can be difficult to change gears like that.”

“I’m assuming that Okura Kagetaka isn’t one of the don’t-speak-until-spoken-to masters?” Ichigo asked.

Maki gripped her teacup tighter, and Ichigo noted that her fingernails were short and well-manicured, probably so they wouldn’t interfere with her work.  Or her fighting.

“No.  Okura-dono isn’t like that.  He is very…  progressive in his expectations. Not many women become shitsuji, and I must admit that a few have very misguided notions of how we are to behave. It has been refreshing to have a master that respects my skills and allows me to take on new responsibilities.”

Ichigo had wondered about the whole female butler thing. The Butler Café fad sweeping through the city had to affect people who wanted to be taken seriously in the role, especially women.

“He seemed like a very talented guy.” Ichigo tried to sound sincere but perplexed. “I still don’t understand why he’s so invested in this whole situation with me and the Onmi, but I’m not going to ignore kindness when I see it.”

Maki sat back in her chair a little and looked at him over her tea.  “A very wise decision, Kurosaki-san.  Kindness is a rarity in this world.”

Ichigo nodded.  “Still it almost always comes at a price.”

They sat like that in silence for a few moments before Maki set her cup on the table and turned her full attention on him.  Her eyes were dark and lovely and if Ichigo hadn’t recently developed a thing for gray eyes they might have made an impact.

“Kurosaki-san,” she said, gingerly stretching her fingers across the table’s surface towards him, never being forward enough to actually touch him, but the suggestion of it was clear.  “I know that Okuro-dono is very powerful and it must feel strange to have earned his consideration, but he wants you to trust him, to rely on him as a mentor, even.  He sees so much potential in you and feels very strongly that it is his responsibility to keep watch over you.  He has known Urahara Kisuke for more than a decade; knows how dangerous he can be.  Believe me, he will do whatever he can to keep you from Urahara’s clutches.”

Clutches?  Ichigo had to smother a laugh and hide his face in his tea.  Hopefully he just looked overwhelmed by the attentions of a pretty girl.

She was really good at this, he admitted.  Nothing she said was untrue; Okura would do whatever he could to keep Ichigo from Kisuke.  It was his motivation that was suspect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he dipped his head a little.  “I started out just trying to help a stranger, and now I’m in the middle of something that I wouldn’t even put in my novel it seems so farfetched.”

Maki shifted and suddenly her chair was a little closer.  “I’ve been wanting to ask—I hope it isn’t too forward of me—but how does someone who selflessly helps a stranger in a coffee shop have the connections that you do to the Yakuza?”

Ichigo thought about how he should explain.

“I don’t, really,” he said, and could see the disbelief settle on her face. “I mean, they’re from the neighborhood, and I’ve known a lot of them since primary school.  The guy with me the other day?  His little brother and I were in the same class.”

“My dad was a cop, so I knew better than to run with them, and my mom…  well, she died because of a turf war when I was a kid.  Total case of wrong place/wrong time plus a healthy dose of it can’t happen to me. But, between those things I ended up being the guy the local gang wanted to recruit but couldn’t.   They tried to beat it out of me a couple of times, but I just learned how to fight back, and after a while…  well, it was almost like I’d earned enough respect that they let me be.”

“But Masuda…” Maki stopped the name short, clearly trying not to call attention to the fact that she knew his name when there was no reason for her to, “the man you were with the other day.  He called you boss.”

Ichigo let her play it off.  “Yeah, Masuda calls everyone boss, except his boss.  He calls Mamushi kumichō-dono.”

That seemed to satisfy her on some level.

“I thought it was strange,” she started, and then started again.   “Okura-dono doesn’t approve of Yakuza, so it seemed a little odd…”

Ichigo smiled. “Why would a nice guy like him help out a bad guy like me?   Yeah…  not with the Yakuza.  I mean, I’ve had more than my fair share of dealings with them—you can’t ignore them—but your boss isn’t sullying his hands by helping me.”

Two pink spots appeared on Maki’s cheeks and Ichigo thought she might actually be embarrassed. “I didn’t mean anything like that, Kurosaki-san.  I apologize most humbly if it came across that way.”

Ichigo nodded. “I understand.  Believe me.  I know what I look like.  You should see how they react to me when I’m working in the wards at the hospital.  *gasp* That’s my doctor?  No!”

He held his hands up to his chest in a dramatic motion of denial, and a tiny smile quirked Maki’s lip.

“Surely not, Kurosaki-san.  I am convinced that you have the patients eating out of your hands.”

Ichigo sipped his tea and gave a mournful look.  “Oh, if only, Maki-san.  It would have made my decision to be a writer instead of a doctor much harder if that had been the case.”

“A writer,” she looked suitably doubtful, like every other person he’d ever told that to, “and how does that work?”

At this point he had no idea why they were still talking, but why not.

“Well, when I was working at the Onmi it was easy.  I basically camped out in the corner of the room and wrote all day while other people did their stuff.  Before that I had to carve out whatever time I could between class and the hospital and family time.  I spent a lot of time in coffee shops, which is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

He thought back to that day and shook his head.  “Feels like forever ago.  Weird that it’s only been what?  A month and a half?”

“Seven weeks.” The words were out of her mouth so quickly she couldn’t stop them.  “Ah, that’s what Okura-dono…” she looked like she was trying not to swallow her tongue.

Ichigo nodded, “Yeah.  That’s about right.  Time flies.”

And if that didn’t make it clear that he’d been on Okura’s radar the whole time, he was a natural brunet.

Maki sat up even straighter and smiled, all seriousness banished and her almost-flirtatious edge back. “Hopefully, because you’re having fun.”

Well, Ichigo thought as he watched her change gears, a little flirtation never hurt anyone, and returned the smile.

“Good company makes everything more fun.”

***

Good company, indeed, Kagetaka thought, as he adjusted the sound on the receiver a little.

He quickly skimmed through the notes he’d taken, pleased with the groundwork Maki’d laid.  He’d told her to take it slow because Kurosaki wasn’t as easily led as his father, but he was clearly not immune to the pretty girl’s charms.  She already had him talking about Kisuke’s work at the Onmi.

“Yeah,” the redhead was talking again, “he was always working on it, and talking to it.  He called it Yoruichi.  I guess he named it after a friend.  Maybe an old partner? I don’t know.”

Maki made a disapproving noise and Kagetaka could just imagine the delicate purse of her lips. “I don’t recognize the name, but it sounds like the program that was that was stolen from Okura-dono. The man has even less honor than I’ve been told.”

Yoruichi. Kagetaka’s lips twisted in a smile. That had to be the activation code that he needed. It was so obvious… he should have guessed. Kisuke had an enormous soft spot for the woman—but now he knew, and it didn’t matter. With the code he’d be able to activate the main routine as soon as he’d pried it out of Kisuke’s servers. Even better, his last message from Kawasaki said that the Shihoin woman’s partner was being set on a path to intercept any trouble with Mamushi.  It was going to be a lovely irony to use her partner against her. He could sow a tale of domestic troubles that would muddy the waters even more when he finally made his move.

The microphone picked up a faint noise, maybe Kurosaki doing something with his cup, and Okura waited until he started talking again.

“This whole situation is so strange.” He sounded almost defeated. Good. “After I met your boss, I went straight to Urahara and asked if what I’d been told was true. I expected denials and explanations, but he didn’t deny it at all.  He admitted straight out that he destroyed a project Okura had been working on.  Said that it was too dangerous for a private business, and that Okura should know better. But if he didn’t destroy it.  If he kept it….”  Kurosaki’s voice drifted away and Kagetaka wished he had more than just audio on the scene.  It would be nice to be able to gauge the redhead’s reactions better.

“Too dangerous?  That’s ridiculous. Okura-dono’s projects are all for the good of the people.  He wants to keep them safe.”  Maki sounded so righteous when she was defending him.  He’d clearly chosen the right person for this job. “The only people who want to stop him are the ones who lurk in the shadows and are afraid of his light. The Yakuza is afraid of him because he will expose their secrets, and Urahara hates him because he couldn’t control him or make him into a carbon-copy killer.  You are lucky to have gotten away when you did, Kurosaki-san.   The man is a menace.”

Kurosaki sighed and shifted noisily again.   “And here I thought I’d gotten better at judging people.  Maybe that’s why I like writing better than reality.  With stories I can just make things work the way I want them to.”

Kagetaka smirked.  He didn’t need to resort to fiction to have things the way he wanted them.  All he needed was time for the plans he’d put in motion would come to fruition, and Urahara Kisuke would be no more.

He picked up the phone.

“Chiaki-san,” he spoke crisply, “let Director Kawasaki know that I’ve gotten the information that he requested.  He can visit me in my office whenever he’s available, the sooner the better.”

He glanced at the clock and texted Maki-san.  Appointment scheduled.  Please adjust the calendar accordingly.

The mic crackled a little and Kagetaka heard the message notification on Maki’s phone ping.

“Oh, Kurosaki-kun,” she said, “this has been most enjoyable, but it seems my free time has come to an end.”

He could hear the shuffling as the two of them rose to their feet.

“No rest for the wicked, hmm?” Kurosaki teased and murmured something to their server.  “Thank you, then, for spending your valuable free time satisfying my curiosity.”

There was a minor scuffle as Kurosaki insisted on paying the bill, but Maki gave in with good grace.

Good girl, he thought.  Keep him on the hook a little longer.  It would be wise to keep tabs on the young man, even if he was just a pawn in the game.

“It was my pleasure, Kurosaki-san,” she said. Her bow was almost silent, only the sound of her hands whispering along the material of her slacks giving it away.  “Perhaps you will be able to use some of the information I provided in your stories.”

That was greeted with a short laugh and Kagetaka could hear the warmth in Kurosaki’s tone as he responded. “If there wasn’t a place for it already, I would make one.   It will be very useful.  Thank you.”

Kagetaka turned off the receiver and nodded. Very useful indeed.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Step On It - II

Alrighty friends, I have finally emerged from my hole of spotty-Wifi summer jobs to deliver the very, very overdue second part of Step On It! Once again, this was based on an idea from @mendeshoney​ and I’m so grateful for the chance to get to bring it to life. Please reblog and let me know what you think! 

Baby wasn’t exactly sure where it started, but somewhere along the line he had become not only the getaway driver for whatever crew Flint had put together, but was put in charge of getting everyone’s coffees before strategy sessions. And that term was used loosely; more often than not, it just consisted of everyone in folding chairs around some dusty table listening to Flint talk about whose jobs were what. Questions were almost nonexistent— Flint wouldn’t have hired someone who didn’t have the business down to a science. And he’d be damned if anyone had ever been able to get away with suggesting things should go in a different direction. You didn’t mess with the boss, and you absolutely did not mess with his plans. Nobody knew exactly how long Flint had been in the game for, and everyone was always a little scared to ask. Longer than Baby had been alive, definitely, but it wasn’t what he had always done. One of the few pieces of personal information anybody knew about him was that, before he had started the whole ‘freelance crime boss’ life, he had been in real estate. Commercial. 

So, needless to say, Saturday morning found him walking into Rooster Coffee House, popping one earbud out when his place in line reached the front. There was one morning, when he was running late, that he had forgone the usual small hipster shops he tended to try out and stopped at a Timmie’s. It was a mistake. When he had gotten back to the meeting house, Needles, one of Flint’s more volatile agents, had taken one look at the cup, grabbed it, and thrown it straight into the garbage can. Baby thought it was a little harsh; sure, the drinks wouldn’t win any awards, but he didn’t see an issue. Being fond of his own life and well-being, however, he had never brought that particular brand again, saving it for himself. 

“What can I get you?” The barista asked, not unkindly, but clearly a little caught up in the morning rush. 

“Uh, four,” Baby paused a moment, remembering himself, “five medium coffees with room?” He wasn’t sure why he worded it like a question. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He was ordering five coffees, not asking what artisanal roaster the beans were sourced from. 

The barista nodded once. “Name?” 

“Baby.”

He got a strange look, but he was used to getting strange looks. “8.75.”

Baby pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, fishing out a ten dollar bill and handing it over, dropping the leftover change into the tip jar. Two or three minutes later— Baby wasn’t paying particularly close attention— the coffees were up, nestled into a cardboard carrying case that he hefted into his hand before walking the four blocks to the warehouse. One hand holding the case, the other was tapping along to the rhythm of the new John Mayer album. Unlocking the door and swinging past the half-draped painter’s canvas still left hanging from the ceiling beams, Baby slipped into the main room. He slid a cup in front of each of the four other crew members present, taking the last for himself and settling in his seat towards the back—  Flint wasn’t a coffee guy. 

Baby didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be writing a new song, putting together another mixtape, back at the diner finally getting that waitress’ name, anywhere apart from the cold, dark, uninviting warehouse Flint had adopted as crew headquarters. And he really didn’t want to be sitting in the room while Flint described his newest heist plans, this one involving some kind of shipping or office supply store. It would have been more than a little out of the ordinary; these types of stores weren’t typically rolling in cash, but the manager of this particular place seemed to dabble more than a little bit in money laundering and fencing, and Flint wanted in. He always wanted in. Baby thought that he must have fancied himself a sort of Robin Hood, what with the whole ‘stealing from the rich’ act, but while nobody knew exactly what anyone did with their share of the money, Baby knew Flint wasn’t exactly known for his charitable spirit. It wasn’t like his duties ever really varied much. Get the crew there, stay where he was needed, and get them the hell out of there. Not much to it. The way Baby saw it, every job he worked was one closer to freedom, one closer to the day he’d never have to do anything for that man ever again. So he listened. He listened while Flint described how they’d pull up on LeTorneau, the crew— who this time consisted of Checkers, Wilson, Moose, and Angel (whose name was deceptive, she can and would go toe-to-toe with any of the guys on the crew) would go in through the side door, two would stand guard at the hallway, and the others would break into the vault in the manager’s office. Baby’s job was to loop around the block twice— exactly twice, no more, no less— and pick them up once it was all finished. If everything went to plan, it would take exactly five minutes and twenty seconds. And Flint’s jobs always went to plan. 

It was a day later, and Baby was slumped over in his car, head in his hands, having just returned from the warehouse and the job at the shipping store. A few stacks of bills were haphazardly stuffed under the passenger’s side seat, his share of the spoils from the day’s activities. With a weighty sigh, he glanced out of the window and recalled what Flint had told him as he handed over the cash. 

“This is the last of it,” he had said, still keeping half a hand on the stack of hundreds. 

Baby’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Flint withdrew his hand. “What I mean,” he said, somewhat exasperated, “is that this is it. You’ve paid it back. You’re all squared up.” And just like that, he walked away, leaving Baby with a million questions and exactly zero answers. 

So needless to say, it was all more than a little overwhelming. It was the first time in over five years that he was truly free from Flint’s grasp, that he was no longer under his thumb. It was incredible, it was liberating, and it was a feeling that Baby never wanted to forget. But it left him with a strange sense of emptiness. It wasn’t a life that he had ever wanted, and certainly not one that he would have chosen for himself, so in truth he was just overcome with a pervasive sense of confusion. What was he going to do now? What was he supposed to do now? It’s not like he really had any relevant job experience, and he was pretty sure that “Getaway Driver— did lots of illegal and ethically questionable stuff” wasn’t a good resumé builder. But he could finally work on his music, finally try to get some demos done and songs written without the looming threat of Flint’s next call hanging over his head. Baby clicked in his seatbelt, shoved the car into gear, and got the hell out of whatever parking lot he had pulled into. 

On the elevator ride up to his and James’ apartment, Baby commenced with his semi-regular rationalization of his behaviors. It obviously wasn’t a shocker that he didn’t want to be doing what, until recently, had essentially been his job. Every time he was sent out with whatever motley-crue cast of characters Flint had rustled up, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to. He was doing it to survive. Baby had become something of an expert at compartmentalizing, somehow able to shut off the part of his life that was filled with making James sandwiches and writing music and getting lunch from pretty waitresses from the one consisting of guns and breaking dozens of laws and secret meetings in dark warehouses. It wasn’t something he was proud of— one of the most poignant memories he had of his mother was when she drilled into him the importance of always being himself and always being truthful to others— but it was something he had to do, or he wasn’t sure how he could function. As he closed the front door behind him, James turned his head towards him. Must have seen my shadow, Baby thought. 

Aren’t you early? James asked. 

Baby sighed, leaning down to the loose floorboard and throwing the last of the money under. They said I’m done. 

Done as in?

Done. Baby said, nodding his head for emphasis. I don’t have to work for them anymore. 

What are you going to do now?

He shrugged, noticing an empty cup for Rooster in the recycling can. Music. Try to get a job. Try to be normal. 

                                                        ---------

The next day, Baby woke up bright and early, walking to the library to print out a few copies of his resumé. It now said “Private Driver” and emphasized his people skills (which were, in actuality, pretty minimal). He figured that was probably a good move. After dropping it off at a few different places, he stopped back by Fran’s. Now that he was off of the crew, maybe he could finally get her name. 

Baby slid into a booth, grimacing when he realized that he didn’t even know if she was working that day. And he didn’t even have her name to ask. He fiddled with his phone for a moment before a voice interrupted him. 

“Back again?” It was her. Baby nervously sat up in his chair, running his hand through his hair. His eyes immediately flitted to her breast pocket, where a bright, shiny silver nametag was pinned. Rhiannon. 

“Yep, you know me. Baby. Not like I expect you to remember me, you’ve probably got dozens of customers every shift, I just thought—”

She cut him off with a laugh, a sound that Baby was pretty sure had just become his favorite thing in the world. “Hey, hey, Baby. You’re fine. Don’t sweat it, okay? I remember you, and not just because of your name.” He blushed, dipping his head and pretending to be looking at the menu. “So are you off from work?”

He tilted his hand from side-to-side. In a manner of speaking. “You could say that. I don’t work for the same people anymore, found out that the career,” he paused for a moment, “wasn’t for me.”

She scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Seriously. It wasn’t a great place to work, moreso one of those places where it just seems impossible to quit, you know?” 

“Only too well, tell me about it,” she said, huffing slightly. “So what can I get you this time?”

“What’s best?” 

She cocked a gentle smile. “Why don’t I show you?”

Rhiannon wasn’t sure if it was party of Baby’s strategy, but he always managed to come in right after the lunch rush had left and before the dinner crowd made their way in. Not like she was complaining, she had been borderline enamored with the gorgeous boy with the strange name since he wandered in a week or so ago. It was a stroke of luck that they had met in the first place, and let alone run into each other twice; Rhi only picked up a few shifts a week, the rest of her time was generally taken up with her studies. She was a psychology student at University of Toronto, with far-fetched dreams of becoming a trauma therapist. Far-fetched because success didn’t come to girls like her. She was from a small town in Saskatchewan, about thirty minutes outside of Regina, and she hadn’t even been out of her province until high school. Far-fetched because she had been raised by a single mother after her father had died in a construction accident when she was seven. Her mother did her best, balancing a full-time job at the only bank in town with raising her daughter, but there were things that slipped through the cracks. Far-fetched because out of her graduating class of 96, less than half went to college, and only a handful left the province to do so. Two to University of British Columbia, one to a college in California, one to McGill, and two to Toronto. Noel and Rhiannon has been close enough in high school— having a total school population of under 500 necessitated that— but had held onto each other as a sort of lifeline since leaving the lackluster and snowy confines of Lumsden, Saskatchewan. The two were thick as thieves since arriving in Toronto, living together their second year and into the third. Far-fetched because while her mother paid for what fees she was able and she received some financial aid from the school, there was still a gap that she had to make up. So she worked, she found a job that would give her a change, she came with a plastered smile three shifts a week and remained pleasant and apologetic to customers who couldn’t be ruder if they tried. Baby’s presence was a more-than-welcome distraction from the usual sorts of folks she’d get in the afternoon. Fifteen minutes later, she slid a toasted sandwich in front of him, piled high with Swiss cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, mixed greens, and what she was pretty sure was three separate types of meats. “People seem to like this one,” she said with a smile. 

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” Baby said. 

As much as she hated to leave him, Rhi still had other customers to keep an eye on, though in between trips to and from the kitchen window she checked her watch, praying that Baby would stick around for the thirty minutes until the end of her shift. Which he did. What she hadn’t caught was the fact that he had finished his sandwich ten minutes ago, but decided to wait for her, banking on the fact that her shift would finish at the top of the hour. He finally finished the last crumbs, leaving a twenty on the table, and catching her just as she emerged from the back after changing into her street clothes. “Hey, uh, Rhiannon?” He asked. 

“Mm?” 

“I was just wondering, if you, you know, have plans for the rest of the day? Totally get it if you do, just thought I’d ask.”

Rhiannon cut him off quickly. Too quickly, maybe? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to be rude. “I don’t have anything planned, really. Have to do some grocery shopping, but that’s pretty much it. Do you want to maybe come along?” She asked hesitantly. Why would someone want to come along for her errands? She certainly wasn’t an expert on human behavior, but was nevertheless pretty confident that putting flour into a bag at a Metro was nobody’s idea of a great weekend. 

“That actually sounds great,” Shawn responded. 

An hour and a half and five bags of groceries later, Baby and Rhiannon sat in the front of her eight-year-old Honda, breaking into the carton of blueberries that they bought. They hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, and for exactly nineteen of those minutes, all Shawn had been thinking of was how much he wanted to kiss her, but there was no way she could catch on, there was no way he’d let her. Frank Sinatra played softly in the background — Rhiannon was a big oldies fan, he had learned — and the mischievous grin she had while trying to throw a blueberry into his mouth wasn’t helping the situation. 

She stopped a minute later, closing the container and reaching around to place it back in one of the many bags. She was looking at him, and Shawn couldn’t quite place her expression. “What’s on your mind, Rhi?” He asked, reaching out and tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know. Something you wish I did. I know that you live with your foster dad, I know your folks aren’t around anymore, I know you’re a ‘driver,’” she said, adding air quotes, “but I know there’s something else. Something more.”

Shawn swallowed hard, leaning forward almost imperceptibly. “You want to know something, Rhiannon?”

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing I want more in this moment than to kiss you.”

Her breath hitched. “Then what’s stopping you?”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @everchanginginks!

AN: My very first Sterek fic and my first published proper fanfic in like four years! Very exciting. This is a Sterek Secret Santa 2k18 gift for the incomparable everchanginginks, so I hope I have done everything she could ever want in this.

Within: Fluff, There Was Only One Bed, friends to lovers, and magic!Stiles, which is 4/5 of the prompts I was given! If I had 10k to work with I could have encompassed the fifth of enemies to lovers, but we do what we can. I'm already WELL OVER the 5k limit I am so sorry SSS it just happened like that orz

Read on AO3

******

Wędrowiec

Hey -SS

Hey -SS

Hey -SS

What -DH

What’s your address. The loft. -SS

Why do you need it -DH

Well I can’t just ask the postal service “hey what zip code are Derek Hale’s eyebrows” -SS

I mean I could but it wouldn’t get me anywhere -SS

Why do you need it -DH

I’m going to be in Michigan for Christmas so I can’t be there on the 25th to give you your present so I wanted to send it to you, if you must know -SS

You don’t have to get me anything -DH

Well you embarrassed me by getting me a way-too-nice present last year so yeah I actually kind of do. We have spending limits for a reason!!!!!!!!!!!!! -SS

That wasn’t a Christmas gift, and your laptop was nearing meltdown. We need you technologically capable to keep the packs safe and up to date. It was a necessity. It just happened to be around Christmas -DH

My Christmas gift was within the spending limits. That was the laptop case. -DH

Why are you going to Michigan? -DH

My mom’s family wants to see us again, apparently they’ve gotten over the spat happened between my uncles and my dad and they want us all together -SS

Really I think it’s because they figure it’s my grandfather’s last Christmas so they want us to pretend that everything’s fine for his sake -SS

I’m sorry to hear that -DH

Oh I don’t really give a fuck it’s just free food and free gossip about my cousins as far as I’m concerned -SS

I’ll just be bored to tears because they don’t have any fuckin technology. Just a frozen ass lake and a frozen ass town in a frozen ass state. How do they survive in a house with NO WIFI?!??!?!! -SS

Guess you’ll just have to die, then -DH

The typing indicator went up for a few seconds before a full half a minute’s pause, then Derek’s ringtone played as Stiles was now calling him. It was Derek’s preferred method of communication anyway, tone was completely lacking over text and he kind of needed some sort of cue to figure out what people meant.

“That was a fffucking meme you’re so full of shit when you pretend not to know what I’m talking about!!!” Stiles was trying to sound some form of mad, but there was way too much of a smile in his voice. “So full of shit. Fuck you.” Stiles’ verbiage towards Derek had gotten crasser and somehow even more confrontational since he’d gone off to college, but paradoxically more affectionate.

“Mhmm.” Derek didn’t give him much to go off of, but figured that Stiles had something else to talk about with him rather than just to whine about his alleged meme knowledge. Honestly, he’d just heard Isaac say it once and it garnered a positive reaction from others, so he filed it away for later use.

That wasn’t exactly what Stiles was hoping for, but he wasn’t going to let something as trivial as Derek’s resistance to banter stop him from talking. “So what are your plans for Christmas?” He still hadn’t gotten that address out of him, but if Derek had plans to be somewhere, he wanted to find out what.

“Nothing.”

Stiles stopped in his pace around his room, “Wait, nothing? What about Cora ‘n Erica ‘n Boyd ‘n Isaac ‘n Scott?” he listed off the people Derek was close enough to be around without too much annoyance in either direction.

“Cora’s down in Peru with her old pack, she’s pretty excited for their plans there, and it didn’t come with an invite, I figured I’d let her be. It’s…” He trailed off, grateful that Stiles held his tongue so he could find his words. “We’re siblings, but those six years of thinking the other dead and her pack being hundreds of miles away, we’re just not that close. I’ll call her on Christmas and I’ve sent her a couple things, it’s enough. Boyd and Erica are visiting Boyd’s grandmother in South Carolina, since his mom got a nice Christmas bonus in her paycheck.”

“Christmas bonus, huh.” Stiles’ tone was completely not buying the story.

“Christmas bonus.” Derek reaffirmed, not addressing Stiles’ suspicions in the least. It’s not that he was wrong, but Boyd was the hardest to convince to accept his financial support, so he had to resort to more sneaky measures to help him out. “And Scott and Isaac are with Ms. McCall.”

“Which also didn’t come with an invite.” Stiles filled the blank for him. It prickled at him that everyone just forgot Derek, even the ones staying in the area. “Hell, man, if I knew you got fucked over like that I’d have stayed, screw the free food ‘n everything, but we already said we’d go. I could have made you watch all of the Christmas movies that you missed out on living under a rock. And my famous hot chocolate.”

“Your famous hot chocolate, which is powdered hot chocolate mix made with whole milk, a Lindt truffle at the bottom, and a half a can of whipped cream?”

Stiles glared at the phone like the screen had personally insulted him, his ancestors, and the entirety of the Power Rangers all in one sentence. “Who told you.”

Derek was smiling despite the topic being how alone he was on the holiday. “Lydia warned me of the sugarbomb.”

“Traitor.” Stiles had an idea in his head. “Hey…..I’m gonna be bored as hell over in Michigan, and it won’t be much fun without technology, you wanna come with? You can convince them that I actually have friends and you won’t be listening to the pipes clanging in that loft all by yourself.”

“I couldn’t impose on-“

“Fuck that, they’re my family and they barely like me anyway, they’ll love you and that way I’ll at least have someone I can talk to aside from my dad, who’ll probably be bickering with my uncles, and my grandfather, who mostly speaks Polish and is about as social as a wombat.”

Derek squinted at the simile. He had to ask, even if it was stupid. “How social are wombats, exactly?”

“Hell if I know.”

Derek thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to at least have somewhere to go instead of staring at empty walls. “Check with them if they’re alright with you bringing someone you want to kill half the time, and if they say yes, I’ll pay my way and get a hotel.”

“No, no no, you’re staying in the house. They have a pretty big house, they got it decades and decades ago and it’s right on the lake, it’s really nice. I haven’t been there since I was…” Stiles counted on his fingers for a few seconds before giving up and ballparking it. “…Like twelve but yeah. I’ll tell ‘em I’m bringing a friend, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Should be grateful my fine ass will even be showing up at all.”

Derek rolled his eyes only part of the way. “See what they say, but don’t push. I won’t die if I’m on my own for Christmas.”

“Yeah but I might if I’m bored for too long out there.”

“I guess harassing me is entertainment.” He could concede that as Stiles’ motivation, it was easier than accepting a invitation offered out of guilt to bother his family by intruding on their Christmas

“Ever since I trespassed on your property, it’s been my favorite pastime.”

“Talk to you later, Stiles.” Derek wanted the conversation over before Stiles got too wrapped up in the parley and didn’t start asking, which was a basic courtesy before bringing someone they didn’t even know all the way there to stay in their house and eat their food and intrude on their family Christmas. He didn’t have high hopes, but even just the offer was enough to make him feel a little less alone.

*~*

Stiles was still blinking in shock at being awake at the ungodly hour that he was awake at, sitting in San Francisco Airport, when his father put a coffee in his hand. John was making something that was as close to small talk as Derek could get as they waited for the plane at the gate. How the both of them could stand to be so conscious before 7am was beyond him. How dare they. Didn’t they know that 5:55 am was a fake time of day and that being awoken at 3 in the morning was tantamount to a Geneva convention violation?!?

“Nhghhhgngh.” Stiles mumbled in response, shaking hands lifting the cup to his face and putting all of his faith in muscle memory to navigate the rest of it. It worked well enough, liquid went down the right tube and not down his shirt.

“C’mon, get that down so you can cram Dramamine in your face and when you wake up we’ll be in O’Hare.” John’s tone of voice was surprisingly warm and sincere despite a sentence which could easily be condescending. Maybe it was the whole Christmas spirit getting through to him, or maybe it was that Stiles was way too groggy to backsass him at this hour of the day and he was enjoying it as much as he could.

They got Stiles upright enough to get him on the plane and negotiated seating, Derek wanted on the aisle for easy escape from a compacted tube full of a ton of people and noise and smells and recycled air, which John couldn’t fault him for, and given that Stiles was going to be unconscious shortly, it was better he was on the window, so Stiles was next to Derek on the two seat side and John across the aisle from them.

Derek figured Stiles would just curl up on the window and fall asleep and he could read on his tablet in peace, so it was a mild surprise that Stiles, buckled in and half gone already, leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled in, breathing steadied and as comfortable as anything.

John leaned over to check on his son, and though wildly perplexed, he leaned back and decided that as long as Derek wasn’t strangling his kid for touching him, it was fine by him.

*~*

The arrival to Gerald Ford Airport in Michigan was, to say the least, a wakeup call for the youngest of the trio’d travelers.

“Jesus fucking Christ, oh my god, why is it so cold?” He asked as the pilot announced that the temperature in Grand Rapids was a balmy twenty-five with flurries all day. Barbaric.

“Stiles, you know it’s gonna be like, ten degrees and windstorms in Michigan the whole week, right?” Derek’s eyebrow rose at the double hoodies and vest Stiles was sporting, that Stiles had not taken out anything warmer from his luggage. That wouldn’t be nearly enough for wind straight from Canada’s frozen wastelands. Derek had done his research into where he’d be heading before packing his luggage, you know, like an adult.

“This is what I got!” Stiles shrugged, a California native that did his schooling in D.C. and Virginia, where neither place got REAL snow on the regular.

“Well, as it turns out, I expected as much.” Derek pulled out his carry-on duffle and extracted three coats, one light brown, one navy, and one black. He handed the brown to John in the middle of their row, and the navy across to Stiles. “Figured you guys wouldn’t have remembered how cold it gets in real northern places.” He said as he shrugged the black coat on himself, a slave to aesthetics.

“Hell, Derek, you didn’t have to…“ John did have a halfway warm enough coat, it wasn’t- oh, it was actually pretty nice. “How much was this?” He’d be really weirded out if Derek was dropping stacks on him and his son, he was already confused at the gift of a laptop the previous year, it’s not like he couldn’t afford a laptop for his son. He couldn’t have afforded the one Derek got him, but he didn’t want to be upstaged in taking care of Stiles. The other kids could take advantage of Derek’s money all they wanted, but the Stilinskis had pride. They didn’t accept charity from rich boy werewolves.

“Not nearly enough for either of you to worry about it.” Derek said, sliding his sunglasses on and leaning back, not interested in carrying on the conversation any longer.

John, unable to turn down the gift but weirded out by Derek both anticipating this need at all, actually going to the trouble to getting these, and sacrificing space in his carry on to bring them on the plane all for this specific scene along with buying him gifts, pulled it on all the same. What a fucking drama queen. “Thanks, Derek.”

Stiles had rolled his eyes at yet another extravagant present from Derek that was way too much to accept but he was trapped by it, since he did desperately need it and couldn’t say no. Well, he’d saved Derek from being the saddest bastard in all of California on Christmas, so maybe this was recompense. “It’s not like I can’t warm myself up.” He grumbled. Heat spells were elementary on the roster of the things any spark worth his salt would know. And Stiles was the saltiest of all.

“Yeah, Stiles, go ahead and slightly set yourself on fire through the whole week.” Derek’s deadpan delivery could easily be mistaken for sincerity, which did well enough to disguise the fact that he was actually really impressed that Stiles had been getting far enough with his magic to do some interesting and sometimes even useful things. “You’ll be our Yule Log. Very seasonal self-immolation.”

John expected Stiles to look pissed at that level of smack-talk, but Stiles looked oddly gratified by the response, like getting Derek to make fun of him was his goal all along.

“Such a good alpha provider, takes such good care of us. Thaaaank you Dereeeek.”

There might have been just a twitch of a smile at the corner of Derek’s mouth, but it could have just been a trick of the lights as cabin prepared for landing.

*~*

Stiles was giving Derek a rundown of the family members he’d have to keep straight while there, cousins and uncles and aunts and people that were peripheral to the family but close enough to be considered part of the group, the bits and pieces of them that he’d pulled together. He hadn’t seen them in a decade, so much of what he knew was informed by Facebook posts and a few Instagram bits that let him know who was who and look at least a little less like he didn’t remember jack shit about his cousins. Which he did, just they were also around 8-14 so it’s been a while, alright? Some of ‘em had gone to college, some of ‘em got jobs, hell, one of ‘em was married with a kid. Wild.

“Shortlist of the important family to know: Nelia, grandpa’s wife. My grandmother died a few years after my mom, but Nelia’s a pretty nice woman, she’s got a really thick accent so if you don’t understand what she’s saying you can ask one of us to translate, we all speak Polish to some degree.”

“I don’t.” John added, at the driver’s seat of the rented car. Derek would rent a car in town, they figured that arriving together would be easier, and then no one was alone for the ride from the airport to the family house.

“Well, Dad doesn’t, but there you go, you and him can be awkward together when we talk shit about you guys, it’ll be great.” Stiles was in the passenger seat, texting people at lightning speed about how this was going to be the most hilarious week of his life and it was all because Derek was going to have to be exposed to a TRADITIONAL FAMILY CHRISTMAS. Did you pack Benadryl? -ER

Why? -SS

For when he breaks out in hives from people expressing genuine emotion around him -ER

“Then there’s Grandpa, I call him the Polish term for it, Dziadek, you’re probably best off with Mr. Gajos. I think I’ve heard a grand total of ten words out of him my whole life, so you don’t have to worry much about him.”

Derek’s eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and casually added, “He’s who you’re named after, right?”

Stiles went stiff and turned around to look at Derek. “Who told you.” Much less humorous than the previous inquisition about the hot chocolate, he seemed properly displeased about it.

Derek only mildly smiled and made no other answer. Stiles made an aggravated noise but wasn’t going to try and interrogate Derek. He continued his familial explanation but sounded much more irritated at everyone in it. “Then there are my cousins, there are a bunch and some new ones I’ve never met, but you pretty much only have to know Nika, who’s two years older than me. She’s the only one that sort of kept in touch and therefore the only one I care about. The uncles are …well you don’t care, and I bet they won’t mess with you much. Now, the whole drama with them, Dad, if you wanna take the lead on explaining why we haven’t talked to ‘em in over a decade.”

John gave Stiles a meaningful glance, but didn’t explain it. “Well, after Claudia died, I had a hard time of it for a while. They thought that I should have handled her, and Stiles, differently than I did.” Derek realized the glance was begging Stiles not to ask John to air his most closely guarded shames right in front of Derek, who signed up for a little getaway and not to hear all their most private secrets.

“They were firm believers that ADHD was cured by beatings and were annoyed that I was a bit of a holy terror.” Stiles translated.

John grimaced a little. “They wanted to take Stiles in, raise him properly. I admit I wasn’t perfect. They weren’t right to say it, but I understand why they did.”

Derek could connect the dots laid out before him. They saw John as a useless drunk and Stiles as a neglected brat and thought they could do better. “So now you’re talking again?” He asked, desperate to save John from further agonies.

“Enough that they didn’t threaten to play family politics chess and try to make Stiles’ grandparents chose which children they liked better this year.”

“We did alright on our own.” Stiles declared with a defiant smile, clearly not about to entertain the notion of understanding their position whatsoever.

It was hard for Derek to wrap his head around a family fracturing so easily like that, Hale lines ran so deep that even someone as gone as Peter could find his way back in Derek’s heart if he worked for it. To cut someone off so cleanly on either side was alien to him. But it wasn’t his family, and frankly none of his business anyway.

*~*

They stood outside of a surprisingly expansive house on the edge of Silver Lake on the western side of the Michigan mitten, the gray sky above their heads threatening to dump yet more snow on them as they waited for someone to reach the door. Derek could hear a collection of heartbeats and voices within. Two of them old, one arrhythmic. A couple more adults, a few younger voices, a decent family gathering. There was apple, rum, cinnamon, nutmeg in the air, someone made mulled cider. It was only the 22nd, this was just a small contingent perhaps, or at least not held to the same importance as Christmas Eve.

The door opened, and a short, stout woman with steel curls and a smile that felt like home stood in the doorway to welcome them. “Mieczyslaaaw!“ She reached forward and pulled him down to kiss both of his cheeks and hug him tightly. She hadn’t seen him since they all attended the funeral of their grandmother. As a longtime family friend in the area, it was an easy transition for the family to absorb Nelia in the fold. “Oh, my sweet child. Look at you, how you’ve grown. My love.” She ushered him inside to embrace John as well, but paused a little in surprise when she saw Derek. “Nelia, this is my friend Derek.” Stiles said, looking almost proud to bring home such a fine friend to his step-grandmother. Almost as if he was proving to everyone that he wasn’t a complete social pariah, that he had people who liked him enough to come all the way out to Michigan with him. Nelia looked surprised at the man before her, but to her credit recovered quickly, holding a hand out for him to shake. “So nice to meet you, Derek. Please, come in.” For all of Stiles’ warning of an accent, it really wasn’t that bad. Clearly not her first language, but perfectly understandable. Though Derek had taught himself Polish when you are very rich you have a fair bit of time on your hands, he knew that he could only tell Stiles that he could speak it once, and he was saving that card for later. Unless Nelia was struggling on something, he’d keep his fluency to himself. She pulled him in with a hand on his shoulder as well, closing the door to the cold.

The house was warm and alive, a strong furnace and people comfortable staying there. Derek was able to pick up on more than the others and could hear a side conversation between two men.

“Your other grandson and John are here.” An adult man, a husky voice, probably a smoker, speaking quietly in a distant room. There were footsteps coming towards the Stilinskis and Derek at the door, but the voice stayed put. Whoever was talking wasn’t moving a muscle to meet them.

“Good! Good. I want to see them. It’s been too long.” The responding voice was hoarse, stilted slightly, and far older. It almost reminded Derek of Vito Corleone, a man assured of his position as patriarch.Who wouldn’t have his opinion questioned.

"It’s a disgrace.”

"I have tolerated the insult of your war against them long enough. Silence.” An authoritative end to a conversation, before a creak of wheels coming toward them.

Stiles was going through family, stiff handshakes with the assorted uncles, trying to communicate through grip and direct eye contact that he knew precisely what they said about him and his dad, and that given the opportunity, he’d fight them. He then had to give hugs of varying sincerity with the cousins. The ones he knew from his childhood he could embrace with genuine emotion, the ones he’d never met was more of an uncomfortable formality, performed for the sake of appearances. Once finished, he saw his grandfather for the first time in years. It was a lance through his heart to see the once tall man reduced to a withered shadow in a wheelchair. “Hi Dziadek.” He said, bending down to put an arm around him.

“Oh, Mischief.” The older man put shaking hands around Stiles’ face. “You look so much like Claudia.”

Stiles nodded sadly as his grandfather patted his face and let him return to full height again. Mentions of his mother didn’t hurt as much as they used to, but he didn’t remember her face as much as the others did, it seemed. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see a ghost looking out like the others could.

Derek was awkwardly explaining who he was to some people there who also seemed confused, when the cousin he saw Nelia talking to earlier took his arm. “Derek, we were under the impression when Stiles said he was bringing a friend that you’d be a girlfriend.” She finally explained outright.

Derek blinked a few times and was grateful for all the years of keeping a straight face under pressure to now not give any sign of a reaction. He put his thoughts into a response after a moment’s recovery. “That does explain why Nelia was confused. I’m just a friend who didn’t have plans for Christmas and Stiles offered. If it’s a problem at all I could absolutely stay some-“

“Oh, no, staying here is fine.” The girl saved him from talking. “I’m Nika, by the way.” She fixed him with an odd look that he’d seen sometimes in Stiles, a sort of curious, searching look that a raptor might give while wondering if something was prey or a toy. “Just that originally, when you were a girlfriend, you’d have been staying in my room and Stiles was with my brother. But that’s clearly not going to be a thing. So you and my brother will be switching, so you’re with Stiles and my brother’s with me. He had to go move his stuff. You and Stiles should come up and see the room, I think we have some things to discuss.”

She was tossing around so many red flags in Derek’s head she could be a one person color guard. He didn’t know what the hell she was, but there was something very very very wrong with this whole situation. He might not have an intuitive evil detector like Stiles’ spidey sense, but he had a healthy dose of paranoia, and it was telling him that there was all kinds of trouble about to occur. Maybe she was going to ritually sacrifice them up there. Maybe this was the Polish Get Out. Wyjść. It was a little catchy.

The adults had started passing around drinks and returned to their original conversations, and Nika made some excuse about room arrangements and putting luggage up to drag Stiles away from the grandparents glad to be reunited with their prodigal grandson.

Stiles peeled away from them and caught the  Am I Going To Be Flayed Alive look in Derek’s big green stupidly pretty eyes and almost laughed. “Relax, Ice Man, you’re fine.” He clapped him on the shoulder as they went outside to get the suitcases from the car. “It’s Nika. She’s my absolute fave cousin, and if something happened to her or she meant any kind of ill will, I’d know. Trust me. She’s fine.”

Nika lead them upstairs to a small room with a full size bed, dark blue walls, no decorations but a nightstand and rug. Hadn’t been lived in for months, given the dead air in the room. “So, Stiles. How about you tell me when your spark woke, and why you brought a werewolf all the way over here.”

Stiles choked on either air or an immediate response, either way he sounded like an ostrich getting throttled. Derek wasn’t making out much better mentally, but he only raised his eyebrows.

Nika smiled as she sat on the bed. “Come on, Stiles, where’d you think you got the gift from? Aunt Claudia never used her talents much, but she was one of us.” She picked up the candle on the nightstand and blew on the wick, a flame lighting to fill the room with some warmth. “I’ve never met a werewolf before, but you were sensing shit like Legolas out there, Derek, it wasn’t too subtle, and a set of ears and or nose like that, out of Beacon Hills aka Werewolf Wonderland?”

“More like nightmareland.” Stiles snorted. “So, holy shit, like five revelations at once and I wanna come back to like….all of them, but…uh….how many of ‘em know, downstairs?!” He asked, shocking Derek by asking an actually relevant, useful question.

“The three brothers know their mother and their sister were “”””out there”””” and that you’re insane and I’m a lost cause. Dziadek knew that Babcia was a superstitious woman and that the wild comes through sometimes. Oh, sorry Derek, Dziadek and Babcia are grandfather and grandmother respectively.” Nika explained. “Babcia did small things, mostly stuff with herbs and intent, like thumping a car engine and telling it to run, or aggressively sweeping bad energy out of the house, or putting bundles above doorways to keep evil intent out. Even the mistletoe around the house was hers.” She set the candle back onto the nightstand, the fire flickering with the movement. “Werewolves are very family oriented, in general, it’s unusual to break away from the family to join another entirely alien one for a holiday like Christmas. I’m just curious.”

“He’s way too nice and let his pack totally forget about him.” Stiles wasn’t remotely afraid of being as bitter about it as Derek tried to deny that he felt.

Nika digested the statement for a moment and gave them a vague smile. “Maybe not all of them.” She got up and left the room as if that would give her the last word. Clearly, she didn’t recall from her childhood who Stiles was, as he followed her as quickly as his gazelle legs could with an indignant “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?”

*~*

Stiles had been so wrapped up in realizing that there was a whole family history of witchery that he’d completely missed out on the fact that Derek and him were actually now supposed to share a bed until it was one in the morning and he finally arrived in the room. To find Derek sitting on his suitcase reading. “Hey, thought you came up here a while ago.”

“I did, but…” Derek half winced and locked his tablet. “We only got the one bed, and..”

“Bro, you used to live in the burned-out husk of your family’s old house I am not about to buy that you’re such a snob that you can’t share a bed for a few nights.” Stiles yanked his shirt off and tossed it in the vague direction of his suitcase. “It’s just a few nights and I even have sleep pants if you wanna go all no homo on me.”

“What? No, n- that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean.” The belt careened through the air in an ark as Stiles continued the process.

Derek was going to have to talk quickly if he wanted to get out anything. “I can’t sleep next to people.”

“What? Why?” Stiles paused, button of his jeans undone.

Derek was looking at a particularly fascinating piece of lint on the ground. “Just never works out right. I didn’t want to just disappear on you, so I was waiting for you to get back before I went to find a hotel or crash on the couch.”

“No, why. I wanna know why.”

Derek contemplated crawling out of the window to escape Stiles’ eyes, which even in the low light of the room burned into his skull. “I just can’t, alright?”

“Nope. Not alright. Fess up.”

“I’m a sleep cuddler.” Derek said it so quickly and refused to look up no matter what Stiles did.

Stiles was quiet for a few odd moments while he had a face odyssey. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Derek could feel the blush on his face and was actively willing it to go away forever. “Ever since I was a kid, if there’s someone next to me I always end up wrapped around ‘em. It’s not conscious, it just happens. So.”

“Jesus tittyfuckin’ Christ, Derek I thought it was something serious. I’m not gonna die if you give me a lil hug. Don’t be so dramatic.” Stiles finally flung his jeans off and crawled under the covers, the little tone of his phone plugging in to charge playing as he settled in. “G’night, Der.” He mumbled sleepily.

Derek had no choice. If Stiles told anyone about this, they’d never find his body. Whose body would go missing was up for debate.

*~*

Derek was a filthy liar when he tried to say it didn’t work out, and he knew it. He slept better than he had in months that night. When he awoke, Stiles was playing some mobile game, and Derek was spooning him pretty hardcore, legs tangled and an arm over his stomach. He moved away the instant he came to consciousness again. “Sorry.” He mumbled, only the ghosts of vowels in the slurred word.

“Hell, if it was a problem I’d have crawled out, but uh, you don’t get too much sleep and seeing as you knocked out for a solid nine hours there, I thought it best to let you wake up on your own.” Stiles was all nonchalance, but Derek could hear something like omission from his words. It’s not that he was wrong, it was just adjacent to the truth.

“Who told you I don’t sleep?”

“The fact that you text me back about Edda translations at three in the morning on Tuesday nights tells me that you’re not sleeping much. Now c’mon, we missed the breakfast train but if we make puppy eyes at Nelia enough she’ll probably cave and feed us. Or smack us lightly and call us lazy. One of the two.”

*~*

“Stiles, your friend is so handsome, how does he not have a girlfriend?” Nelia asked, perfectly comfortable to talk all kinds of terrible things as Derek was helping fold pierogi with Nika and Stiles. “He’d make a fine husband. He should find a good wife.”

Stiles gawked for a second, and had no clue how to respond. This would in no way stop him from doing so anyway. “He’s had a difficult time for a while, he’s helping his family right now, college, supporting them.” Stiles’ Polish was pretty rusty, he hadn’t been practicing much in the last several years.

“He has children?”

“No. Not exactly. More friends that he kind of brought inside because no one was helping them right.”

“Hmm. Nika, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Nika did not want to get dragged into this conversation. “Very, but it isn’t nice to talk about people in front of them.”

Nelia went to check on the uncles as they were all apparently having a slight discussion with John on the front lawn and was fully prepared to drag each of them back in by their ear and give them a firm education on the meaning of Christmas. This of course left the cousins and Derek all alone in the kitchen, the others of the family dispersed for their individual amusements.

“So, Stiles, are you…..and Derek….?”

Stiles blinked, sealing the dough around the potato and onion. “Are we what”

“Boyfriends.” She said it like it wasn’t kind of a bombshell of a word to utter.

“Nooo.” Flour and bits of dough scattered as he waved his hands to emphasize how NO that was. Absolutely not. Had she even seen Derek? He was so out of his league it physically and emotionally pained him. “ No. We’re just friends. Truly.”

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t ask if you were.”

“You were asking a little bit.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Derek’s also not gay”

“I wasn’t asking!”

“But he does have terrible….choice in women. Every time he gets a girlfriend she tries to kill us.”

That was enough of that. Derek had developed some thick skin about the litany of traumas he’d incurred and would give Stiles a little leave to talk shit about Jennifer, but that was taking it a little more casually than he’d like. “That’s a little mean, Stiles.” He said in perfect Polish.

Stiles turned so many colors that there was a risk he might burst a blood vessel. He fled before anyone could grab hold of him and make him accountable for his actions. Nika at least muttered an apology before scurrying off.

Derek wondered if his deep-seated need to be dramatic may contrasting with his desire to not be such a colossal dick to people he actually liked.

*~*

Stiles successfully avoided Derek by busying himself with everything possible for the rest of the day, but of course, after the day, must come the night, and thus the sleep. In the same bed. With the guy he brutally insulted and exposed just hours ago. Fuck.

Maybe if Derek was already asleep he could just curl up in the closet and evaporate entirely before anyone noticed he existed. Fuck. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to open his big stupid mouth and say the stupidest thing that he’d ever uttered in his life.

He didn’t see light coming from under the door as he went, but knew that Derek would wake up if the doorknob made even the slightest sound. He rubbed his hands enough to warm the bony fingers and waved his hand slowly around the doorframe, collecting the sound from that space before snatching it all. Just long enough to open it silently.

When he saw Derek sitting up in bed with just the candle on the nightstand and his tablet in hand, Stiles had half a thought to make a run for it. But Derek had already looked up with a raised eyebrow. There was no escaping.

“How’d you do that that quietly?” Derek asked, not addressing the parade of elephants doing the merengue in the room.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake you up. So I just took the sound away from it.” Stiles answered, stepping inside and looking pointedly away from anywhere near the bed.

Derek locked his tablet and set it aside. “That’s pretty impressive.” Was all he said in reply, but it was gushing praise given who it was coming from.

Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore. “Derek I am so sorry I said that, I never should have even thought it, I just-“ his words were running on top of each other and he felt like King Trashbag of the proud nation of Shitfriendia.

“Relax.”

Stiles hated being told to relax by anyone, but he had to be very nice to Derek for the rest of their concurrent lives and there was something so calm about the way Derek said it that made it less insulting. He hazarded a glance up, but Derek wasn’t wearing a shirt and even in the low light of the room he could see chest hair and he had to look away immediately or he might die.

“You have a family member who understands you on a level none of the rest of us do. She’s becoming a fast friend and you’re very comfortable with her. It wasn’t the nicest thing to say,” and it was pretty damn private, but Derek was trying to make Stiles feel better so he wouldn’t bring it up, “but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me by it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” This was probably the most adult conversation that either of them had ever engaged in, it was frankly shocking. Derek had called Boyd to help process his emotions and figure out what to say in a way that was a little more level headed than he might have done on his own.

Stiles nodded, knowing that Derek wouldn’t appreciate further self-flagellation from him and that he just would have to accept being a terrible person for the rest of his life. When he crawled into bed, he lied awake, staring at the wall across from his face and mulled it over and over. He could hear Derek’s breathing settle as he fell asleep, and an hour later a couple wiggles and there was a nose pressing against his neck and a hand over his stomach. Stiles sighed at the warm heat against him, and finally could fall asleep.

*~*

Nelia checked the codfish in the oven, monitoring the temperature carefully. “Still not ready. Mieczyslaw, could you help set the table, please?” She asked, setting some rolled napkins and a handful of forks onto the table.

It was Christmas Eve, and the whole family was sitting down soon for Wigilia, the main feast. Usually eaten before going to Midnight Mass, beginning at around eleven and finishing at midnight proper. Despite its importance, the grandparents had not gone since the grandfather had been confined to his wheelchair and their local church loved its beautiful stone steps so much. As a religious building that was remarkably old, it was exempt from the ADA act requiring public buildings to be wheelchair accessible.

They still held the meal, though Nelia and the older Mieczyslaw went to bed and the others of the family were encouraged to go and say their prayers for them. The young children were kept at home with the grandparents to watch them and make sure no one got out of their bed to try and catch Santa Claus.

Stiles was carrying various accoutrements from the fridge and counters to the table, and counted the place settings. Exactly enough for everyone, though this alerted him. “Wait, Nelia, we’re missing one. The spot for the wanderer.”

In many other cultures, an empty place setting at a family meal might be in remembrance of someone who had passed, or who could not be present at the table due to extenuating circumstances. It meant that something was missing, and some wanted to honor that with a missing place for them at the table. However, in Polish tradition at Wigilia, there is an empty place setting for an unexpected guest, or wanderer. A wędrowiec.

Nelia gave Stiles a meaningful look, one that he couldn’t decipher. He was so used to these kinds of looks being paired with massive eyebrows and kaleidoscope green eyes that trying to do it for other people was more difficult. “Think on it.” She said, slicing challah bread into a basket and wrapping the napkin over it to keep them warm.

Stiles puzzled and puzzled til his puzzler was sore, then it dawned on him. He wondered why it hadn’t before. “Derek.”

Nelia chuckled as she started slicing a loaf of challah bread. “Such a smart boy you are, Mieczyslaw.” Bringing a friend who had nowhere else to go so soon beforehand was certainly an unexpected traveler, though she didn’t know that Derek had been a wanderer for much longer than just that winter.

*~*

As John wasn’t Catholic, Stiles hadn’t even been Confirmed, and Derek didn’t want to go without Stiles, they all hung back while the others went off to the Midnight Mass. Since they knew that with kiddos younger than eight, Christmas begins absurdly early for everyone, they went to bed after seeing everyone off for the church about 20 minutes from the house.

Stiles lied awake, waiting for Derek to properly fall asleep so he’d get that heavy warm weight against him, that even though it’d only been a few nights, he found it hard to fall asleep without that. He loved the excuse they both got for it, this unconscious habit, but he hoped, he wished that Derek wasn’t regretting that he woke up with an armful of Stiles.

But he didn’t. He lay there for a few hours before getting out of bed and leaving the room. Stiles thought he was going to the bathroom or something, but after ten whole awful minutes of not having Derek next to him, he had to investigate. Checking his phone, the screen said 11:57PM. The whole gang of adults would be out at Mass for a while yet, the service had barely just started and apparently the priest loved his speechifying when the whole congregation was actually there for once during the year as his captive audience.

Stiles crept downstairs looking for his friend, finding Derek in the kitchen, watching a mug rotate in the microwave. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

Derek glanced up. He��d heard Stiles coming down, but he didn’t really see the need to react beforehand. It’s not like his mom had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar or anything. “Kind of. And I wanted to set out some of the things I got for the kids who don’t have as much money as the others. Went out when you were trying to avoid me with their parents to make sure none of the kids felt left out.”

“Santa’s Lil Helper, huh?”

Derek pondered it. “A little. And it’s a Hale tradition. Or more, it’s a Derek Hale tradition, since I’m pretty much the one who spearheaded it.”

“What did your family used to do for Christmas?” They were speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone up, but in the warm light of the kitchen Christmas lights, and the soft look of Derek in a beat-up tee and plaid sweatpants, he felt sentimental enough to ask.

“Christmas was always a little funny in the Hale house.” Derek admitted, stopping the microwave a moment before the chime would go off. “We didn’t do Santa Claus.”

“Did you do Santa Claws?” Stiles mimed some claws and fangs, knowing he’d earn an eyeroll at best.

Derek did not disappoint. “No, just a couple presents from Mom and Dad, and aunts and uncles would be later. They didn’t want us getting spoiled or thinking Santa loved us more because he gave us all kinds of stuff. But we didn’t open anything until at least noon.”

“Parents liked their sleep?” Stiles definitely remembered a firm ALL PRESENTS WILL BE REPLACED WITH CHORES AND BRUSSELS SPROUTS IF THIS DOOR IS OPENED BEFORE 8:00 AM rule on Christmas morning. Of course, Stiles was jumping on his bed with excitement at five in the morning, anyway.

Derek shook his head, and his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Stiles squinted, who would be calling Derek at midnight? Moreover, why was Derek actually taking the call??

He stepped outside onto the porch, little snow drifts from their actual white Christmas shuffling aside for him with his mug. Stiles saw the bag of Lindt truffles and a little chocolate powder dust on the counter- that sonuvabitch made HIS secret recipe. Wait. WHAT.

Derek stepped back in a few minutes later with half a smile on his face.

“Who was that?” Stiles had to ask.

“Cora.”

“What’d she want?”

Derek looked mildly embarrassed. “As of,” he looked at his watch, which read 12:08AM “…five minutes ago, I’m thirty years old.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped just a bit as his mind whirled. “It’s your birthday!?” he hissed, needing to aggressively shout but not able to wake the kids.

Derek almost winced. “Yeah.”

“Well….happy birthday!” Shit. Shit shit shit. HE’D KNOWN DEREK FOR EIGHT YEARS AND HE NEVER KNEW THIS WAS HIS BIRTHDAY. Stiles had to go find his King Trashbag of Shitfriendia crown again and sit on his dumpster pile.

“I don’t like people knowing. It’s an awkward day to have a birthday.” Derek sipped his cocoa, clearly uncomfortable.

Stiles didn’t know how to deal with this. “So…is that why you guys didn’t do Christmas until the afternoon?” He felt like he was playing minesweeper, except he didn’t get to see the warning numbers.

“Yeah.” He looked down into the mug, it was easier to talk about things if he didn’t have to watch the face journey of sympathy on people’s faces when he talked about his family. But he missed them on his birthday especially, and he wanted to talk about it. And out of anyone, he wanted to talk to Stiles about it. He knew, at least to some degree, the feeling of empty spaces in your memories. “My mom used to wake me up at 12:03 to tell me happy birthday and bring me in the kitchen. She’d have a present on there that was a birthday present only. From her. She was the alpha, so it was…pretty much impossible to actually ever get her alone. Always busy with the whole pack, worrying about everyone else, worrying about…” He trailed off. Christmas was always such a hectic time for everyone, so much noise and stress and busy rushing everywhere. “So it was nice, to have that little moment with just her.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments. Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself. Then he realized; his present to Derek was bizarrely perfect. “Hold on. Hold right here.” He stole up to his room and came back down with a wrapped present, the tape shoddily put on. He thrust the box out to Derek, looking way too happy with himself. “Happy birthday, big guy.”

Derek looked between Stiles and the box a few times, but took it and quietly unstuck the tape to slide the box out and open it. “You fucking dick.” He laughed as he pulled out a sweater that said “BIRTHDAY BOY” on it, with a hideous looking Jesus. A true ugly Christmas sweater, with a bday twist.

Stiles was grinning like a loon as Derek pulled the sweater on over his tee, that amused glint in Derek’s eyes where Stiles’ idiot sense of humor hit him perfectly. He picked up his mug again, and felt that it’d turned cold. “Can I get a warm-up?”

Stiles could have just poked the mug in Derek’s hands, or even just pointed at it. But Stiles wrapped his hands around it, his hands glowing a little as the liquid heated within, and Derek’s cold hand too.

Derek’s eyebrow quirked slightly. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Can y’do whipped cream too?”

Stiles stifled a snorted laugh poorly, but didn’t step back away.

Derek set the mug back onto the table and looked at Stiles for another quiet moment, this one much less tense. Without looking up, he broke the silence with “I swear to God if there’s mistletoe up there right n-mmf!”

Stiles had closed the gap to kiss him, his hands holding Derek’s face as he nearly crushed their noses together. They eventually managed to tilt their heads properly so it was less of a frantic smush and more of a proper kiss.

When they finally broke so Stiles could breathe, Derek had a smile on his face, one that didn’t leave in half a second. “So, is there any?”

Stiles was able to stifle that stupid laugh better. “C’mon, lets get those presents out there for them. They’ll be back eventually.”

They put some Christmas movies on the TV as they sorted the presents into neat piles for each family so everyone could sit with their group. They were on the couch, writing out the tags on each one, making sure that the way all the Santas were written exactly the same and all of the names were spelled exactly correct. Stealing kisses every once in a while devolved slowly over the course of one of the Rankin and Bass animated movies to Stiles pressing Derek into the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers with the Christmas spirit in them.

John was trudging downstairs to see if Santa had left any of those shortbread cookies, but heard something odd from the family room. He was about to investigate, but heard something that sounded very distinctly like a Stiles happy noise, and decided to have a coughing fit and remind those two that they were not only not alone in this abode, but that the assorted parents and cousins would be returning soon and unless Stiles wanted to come out to the family in the most aggressive way possible, they better take it upstairs.

Derek managed to blush harder than Stiles did, but both had received the message, and put away the tags and pens before retreating to their room sheepishly. But they knew that John had probably seen this coming, and wasn’t going to judge them for it.

When they crawled into bed, Stiles didn’t have to wait to feel that arm around him, the press of heat against him, safe and warm. Derek kissed the back of his neck, and he could feel the smile against his skin.

Derek heard the family come back from the Midnight Mass downstairs, doing their best to tiptoe through and not wake up anyone.

“Ah ah ah! Mistletoe!” one of the aunts cooed, before a smack of a kiss.

“Who puts mistletoe in the middle of the kitchen.” Grumbled someone who was not getting themselves a Christmas kiss, bah humbug and all that.

The last voice was Nika. “Babcia always said there’s magic in a kitchen.”

[lucywithlupus]

“When my loved ones tell me the sparkle in my eyes are back, even if it’s for a day; and on that day, I feel. I feel the things that have been missing, things I didn’t even realize weren’t there anymore.”— Courtenay Ambrose Living with a rheumatoid condition means that you are pretty familiar with the rise and fall of your health. We would wish to always stay up, but sometimes, we fall, and we fall hard. Hospitalizations or a recovery period at home can be daunting, traumatic experiences. They make you realize how in one second, your health could be at risk. Whether it is for excess inflammation, a serious damage of your joints, bones or muscles, organ failure or an infection that your body cannot get rid by itself, there are plenty of possible scenarios where you are placed back in that hospital bed for a few days, only to be sent back home and told to take a few (or many) days off. And I will admit, those days are some of the saddest I have experienced in my life. Coming back home was like an explosion of emotions: anger, happiness, sadness, confusion, fear, etc. Knowing that I would have to take things slow was devastating to me since all I wanted was to finally wipe off all memories of me being in that hospital bed. But not all hope was lost, and, for the first time in so long, I can finally say that I am getting better, and I will continue to get better every day. In this post, we will talk about what can you do during those recovery days and how can you heal yourself in the best way possible. I carefully thought about the things I did during these last three weeks of recovery, and how each of them was either a step forward or backward. You are not alone, and we can put you on the right track to sweet, healthy freedom! Without further ado, here we go: How to get better after a long recovery break? Tip 1: Eat The first three tips that I have to involve the Big Three: Food, Water and Sleep. We all need them, we cannot survive without them, and, in most cases, they are the only three tools your body will need to make you feel better. When I came back to the hospital, I was still trying to listen to my body and what it asked me to do. It was super hard to eat again after almost two weeks of nausea and irregular appetite, so even choosing what to eat was an important daily task. I would constantly ask myself: "am I ok? what do I need?" Note that when you're sick, sometimes what you need and what you won't get mixed up. You may want to eat a tub of ice cream, but maybe that won't help in your healing process. Both what you crave and what you actually end up eating are important. Inform your doctor on both of these: your appetite patterns will always be a key hint of how your organs and metabolism are doing. Now, about nausea: no one likes it. But you have to get through it.Foods with a bland taste and some texture to them like crackers, popcorn and toast made for great post-hospital-food snacks, while also not making me want to throw up. Chewing your food rather than drinking it in soups or smoothies also makes your body fuller for longer. Don't be surprised if you eat more or less than you normally do: just follow what your body is telling you to do! The trick is to be aware of what you are eating, chose healthy things most of the time and treat yourself every so often. This is no time for a strict diet: change your eating patterns according to your mood and hunger levels! Tip 2: Drink water Water, water, water! Drink water, all day, every day, nonstop. Being properly hydrated is the only way your body is going to heal itself. So if that wasn't on your 2019 resolutions list, write it down now. You still have 11 months to achieve master levels of water intake. Another tip: make sure you have good hygiene. Sometimes, it is hard to understand for others, but I can't step into the shower without fearing death by slip. It was worse when my hand still had an intravenous treatment happening, and I needed to protect my hand from water at all times. Being clean and tidy at all times does not only make you feel fresh and clean, but it also makes you feel more motivated to make your day right. So wash your face, clean your teeth, change out of those PJs: make sure every morning, you are ready to step out that door, even though you know that you may not go anywhere. It's small tweaks like this that make a huge difference! Tip 3: Sleep and Rest    This should not come as a surprise to anyone, but sleep is probably what your body does more when its spending energy trying to heal you. Identify how does your body tells you it is tired and wants to sleep, and do not continue binge-watching Netflix just because you want to know what happens in the next episode. Sleep now. You'll thank me later. But obviously, you can't sleep all day. Resting other ways is just as important, but do rest mindfully. This is what I mean: you probably won't feel rested after that 45-minute Forntnite gameplay video, but probably you would by spending 10 minutes doing something else: listening to some music, coloring, playing an instrument, taking a walk. Surprisingly, I have found so many things that I can do to relax that I would not do before because I was too lazy to try them out! And for my fellow workaholics out there, understand that your body is not going to keep up with the same workload as before at first. That is perfectly normal and ok, and you should not feel guilty for that. If you really want to squeeze in some work,  just zigzag your way between breaks and work and eventually, things will get done. Tip 4: Know your limits This ties in nicely with what I was saying before. Coincidence, I don't think so! I understand that finally being free of nurses and doctors telling you do lay down and rest makes you want to do the exact opposite when no one is watching. But the truth of the matter is: if you don't stop yourself, your body will, using its own painful, unpleasant ways. Take your time to heal, that's why you are here in the first place! Accept the fact that you cannot go to work/school/ university or college right now because you put yourself and others at risk. Try to do some tasks, but make sure you prioritize health and rest for now. Plus, let me spill on you some truth: It is not your fault you are in this situation. It never was and never will be. String-theory-wise, there are so many possible realities where you are in the hospital for so many different reasons beyond your illness, like a car crash or an armed robbery. In these realities, no one would dare tell you it was your fault you got hurt, so why now? Why now blame yourself and actually sabotage your healing with bad thoughts? So every time you feel guilty, alone or weak, just think of your day and what you accomplished today. Today you got up, brushed your teeth, put on some clothes, took your meds, etc. Slowly but surely, these little victories will matter and push you forward.                Tip 5: Rebuild your space Imagine that you are a plane crash survivor, drifting in the ocean in a tiny lifesaving boat. Your house is like this boat:  it protects you, but you also spend a heck of a long time in it. So the logical thing to do would be to make sure this tiny boat has all the things you need to survive: a rain collector, a weapon for fishing, some good wifi, etc. In other words, make sure your house is equipped and cozy enough for you to survive the long wait. Bring important things near your bed for what I call "drop everything"  moments: basically, moments when you feel so bad, you just throw everything everywhere and toss yourself in bed, helpless and sad. Have essentials in your nightstand at all times: pills, water, thermometer, tissues, snacks, etc. These will save you during those "I can't get up" tragedies. Also, bring out things to keep you entertained throughout your stay. My room has never had so many books lying around. There are coloring pencils I haven't touched in so long which are now every day "grab and doodle" tool. I still cannot stay be separated from my headphones and fine tunes for long. You get the point. If you need something, do not be ashamed or afraid to ask for it. Call a friend, your parents, your family and let them know how they can help you! Tip 6: Try new things Imagine you are now at work or school, sitting in your desk, your mind wandering. These are the exact moments when you think: I could totally become a great dancer/ artist/ DJ/ chef if I had the time. I could totally start my own projects, read this book I want to read, learn more about this thing I love, etc. I could totally do all of those things, only if I had the time…. Well, knock knock, look who has arrived! Time has! This is the perfect time for you to try out all of the things you could not when you were too busy stuck in your routine. Do them now! Try some coloring, painting, yoga, that recipe you saw online but were too intimidated to do, that choreography that looked cool but challenging, that 1000-piece puzzle someone gave you but you just stashed away for another day. The world is your oyster, so go ahead! Tip 7: Have fun    What better way to spend your time than catching up with the people you love and maybe haven't seen in a while!Meet up with your friends, text them often if they are far away, call them a few times. Do not think that you are wasting their time: if they are your friend when they want to hear how you are doing, how your health is doing, etc. Make sure you are being honest: as cliché as it sounds, sometimes its ok not be ok, and those moments of sadness and worry is exactly what talking to others is for. It is super important to understand that not everything has to be about feeling sorry for yourself for being sick. Not every single activity of your daily need to revolve around your current illness. You have to find ways to distract yourself from the situation you are experiencing right now, otherwise, you will, as we Spanish speakers say, drown yourself in a glass of water. Sometimes, your problems seem bigger than what they truly are, and it is in those times where fun and games should arrive to cheer you up. So enjoy your home: watch some Netflix, play video games, watch funny youtube videos, play some music and dance, etc. Tip 8: Take care of yourself Sadly, not everything is fun and games, and you must find the balance between responsibility and perfectly normal laziness. Take your medications, call the doctor if they are not working properly or have weird symptoms. If possible, keep a record of how you feel each day, what your symptoms are, go to your checkups, etc. Know when your body cannot go further, but also challenge yourself every so often. When you listen to your mind and soul carefully, you being to be more honest with yourself, about what you can and can't achieve at certain times. You will be surprised at how, in the most unexpected moments, you will be able to get out of bed with no back pain, you will be able to go down those stairs with no fear of falling, you will be able to not feel sick for a whole day, then days, then weeks, and so on. Always question yourself: do I avoid this because I might get hurt or do I push myself to try to overcome it? Am I ready yet, mentally and physically, to take that step forward? Tip 9: Have faith Whichever religion you practice, or whichever believes you have on the universe and our existence, faith is a universal entity that will be the one to keep you going even in the hardest of times. Take a moment to meditate, pray or just reflect on what you did and what you can do for yourself today. Those moments are just as important as any doctor's appointment or medicine. They bring you a sense of peace and love that no other thing can give you. Always be thankful for what you are and what you have. Be thankful for both the good times and the not so good ones. Not many people keep up with what you do, so be thankful that you have the strength and wits to make it happen. Tip 10: Prepare yourself for life after your recovery Staying healthy ain't easy after a recovery, especially when reality slaps you in the face when you get back to your routine. Before you even step out, make sure your environment is prepared to welcome you back. Call your teachers, boss, or college professors to let them know where you have been and why you could not come back sooner. They will surely understand and help you to readjust to your old working habits. Take the time to reflect on your goals and what you truly wish to achieve in life. Talking to others about said goals makes it more likely for them to become a reality! Have clear and genuine care for your well being. Being back to your old life doesn't mean that you will put your health to the side after all that work to get better! Do not be ashamed or afraid to speak about what you went through, how you are doing and how can others help you to get back out there. Take it easy! Not everything will be perfect at first, and that doesn't surprise me! There may be a few slips here and there, but going slow and steady will always make you win the race in the end. Believe in yourself: you have overcome so much! Keep going! I believe in you! Aaand that's all for today, folks! Next week, we will move on again to Wednesday's "What is…?" post, and another lifestyle post for Saturday/ Sunday. Sorry for being late this week! I had so many things going on with university, checkups, seeing my friends, etc. I hope you still enjoyed the post and hopefully, some of it will help you survive your next recovery break- if it were to happen, always be ready! Take care of yourself! Love you! Bye!