#and the bracelet can prop the door open for his family so they CAN help

[tangledinink]

has swanatello tried keeping a diary/journal? that way he could write down what happens at the visits and who visited, and his family could tell him what the date is so it could be accurate

Absolutely! He tries to record as much stuff as he possibly can so he can reference it later, the issue is that, on bad memory days, he often won't remember that the journal exists, and therefore can't add anything new to it or reference anything in it. If he does, he may not recognize the importance of it or understand why he's writing it in the first place. He may write down incorrect or conflicting information, as 'facts' may change for him depending on his mental state, which will later confuse him. He also has a tendency to lose things as a result of his memory issues.

He has a journal, but up until now it has been very patchworked and not half as helpful as he would like for it to be. His family tries to help him keep track of it and remind him to write things down when they visit, but they can't help if he won't allow them entry to the lake, if they can't find the journal, or if Donnie is too distressed or confused to participate in the exercise. The bracelet, however, has helped a lot with this, as it can verbally prompt him every day to locate the journal, reference the journal, to write in the journal, and to put the journal back in the correct place so he can still find it again later. This consistency is incredibly helpful, as the bracelet doesn't have to rely on Donnie having a 'good day' to begin with to offer assistance.

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Two

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

Somehow, Anna had collected quite a bit of jewelry in her twenty-three years of living. She never necessarily went out of her way for it- it would just find its way to her. She was enamored by shiny things. You know, the things that glimmered when you held them in the sunlight the right way. Stones, sea glass, gems. Really whatever she could get her hands on. But she was especially fond of sea glass. She always loved sea glass.

It started off with small things at first, like sea glass, when she was a little girl. Because of this love, Magpie was the nickname her grandmother had given her.

Her grandmother would say things like, be careful, you’ll cut your hands on the sea glass, my little Magpie.

When she got older, more so into her teenage years, she would be gifted with various pieces of jewelry for her birthday or other special occasions. Each piece was beautiful, surely. She couldn’t deny the appeal that came with a pair of diamond earrings, those certainly caught in the light well, but she would’ve been just as happy with a particularly glossy stone from a rocky beach. Jewelry, or whatever stone it was, didn’t have to be expensive, she just liked how they glinted in the light. Like a magpie. She felt quite silly about it.

Nevertheless, she preferred sea glass to anything.

Growing up, she kept her entire collection in an ornately carved hope chest at the foot of her bed. There was no organization, no rhyme or reason for the placement of any of it. Of course, she kept the most expensive pieces tucked away in a separate gaudy jewelry box, nested in swaths of black velvet. The hope chest, on the other hand, was entirely in disarray. Anna liked it that way. It was her big box of things.

She brought the hope chest with her when she went to live with her aunt. It was a nightmare to travel with, surely, but it was hers. For the past year it remained at the foot of the bed she shared with her five other cousins. Living with her aunt and cousins under one tiny roof was an adjustment for her. It was different. The war changed a lot.

The war changed everything.

A family torn apart, and a girl sent packing off to her aunt’s home in an unfamiliar factory city hours from the only home she ever knew.

Anna remembered the day vividly. It was in the middle of summer, 1917, and the trip was dreadfully rainy. She traveled by train and cab to get to Birmingham.

When she eventually arrived at her aunt’s doorstep, she was soaked. The brim of her hat drooped under the weight of the rainwater. She knew her aunt was barely scraping by, she had so much on her plate already, she didn’t need the additional burden of a niece added to that roster. Her aunt had five children of her own, a husband away at war- but Anna had nowhere else to go.

So she stood there, surrounded by luggage and suitcases and trunks full of whatever she had left, waiting for her to answer her pleading knocks. When her aunt did open the door, she quickly ushered her niece in and helped her get settled with all of her belongings.

A few weeks later, word reached them that her uncle died in France. Her aunt was frantic after receiving the news, and understandably so. Not only had she lost her husband, but another source of income for the family. There was no one coming home to work in a factory.

Anna began selling whatever items she could to make extra money to cover the cost of a sixth mouth to feed. She sold dresses, silver hairpins, and combs, shoes, miscellaneous books. She sold almost anything and everything. Her belongings were finite, however, and soon enough, she had sold as much as she could.

Except for her jewelry, except for the hope chest.

She had accumulated enough valuables in the chest to scrounge up a few months rent for her own flat. A shabby little place, not too far from where her aunt lived. She even had a little extra money leftover to tuck away for her family, just enough to help them get by for a little while longer. There would be more space at her aunt’s house now that she was gone, too. More room for her cousins in their bed, one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe.

It pained Anna to look at the chest. It pained her even more to open it. Almost everything she had collected was gone. Of course, she kept a few things, the items that were the most precious to her. An opal ring, a pair of diamond earrings, a golden bracelet, a jar full of sea glass. Each unrelated, but with their own meaning.

There was no point in moping around about it. She could spend another twenty-three years collecting more shiny things.

She was learning to make do with what she had.

Of course, now with her own expenses, she was also learning that her money was finite as well. This made her aunt worry for her terribly.

Finding a job had been difficult, to say the least. She spent hours reading through newspaper after newspaper, clipping away at any job advertisement that she thought she could even remotely qualify for. Most of the time, she wouldn’t receive an interview or would be flat-out rejected on the spot.

It was discouraging- but made sense to her. She really was just a girl, from a village barely anyone had ever heard of before, with a resume that was, to put it plainly, terrible. She never held a job before, and her only experience came from a few accounting courses from a couple of summers back. Truthfully, the courses were something to pass the time, to keep her from boredom while the days were long and hot. She never expected to actually need those skills.

One morning, however, there was a series of frantic knocks at her door. It was no one other than her aunt, giddy and exclaiming that she may have found her a steady job.

“I have a friend from church who can help you,” Her aunt said. “She set up an interview for tomorrow, three o’clock. You’ll be speaking with her nephew. She’ll pick you up from the house. She’s a good woman.”

Anna hugged her aunt tightly at the news, a wave of relief washing over her. Until, she realized, that she wasn’t sure what exactly she was interviewing for. That was when the panic started to settle in.

But alas, when fortune drops something valuable on your lap, it’s best not to question it.

That was where she found herself currently, a few days after the interview, staring at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror while she got ready for her first day. She was brushing through her hair, smoothing out the curls from the rollers she had slept in. The wan morning light made it a soft auburn that curled down past her collarbones.

She had been ready for work since dawn, and truthfully, even before then. She had a hard time sleeping and chalked it up to be a culmination of nerves for the day ahead of her, and the fact that her flat didn’t feel like a home just yet. In time, she hoped it would.

All throughout the night, the floors creaked, and the pipes hissed. She barely had any furniture, except for a wire bed frame and a hand-me-down mattress she had gotten a deal on. She was also pretty sure that the lock on the front door was broken, so she propped up a chair against the knob and hoped for the best.

Despite all of this, for better or worse, this place was her own. It eased the burden on her aunt.

Anna stood by the window while tucking her cream blouse into the waist of her maroon skirt. She spent the better part of her morning ironing out her clothes, desperately trying to ensure that the linen was fine and creaseless. Her iron was one of the things she couldn’t part with. At the very least, she could look her best with it. Or at least try to.

She glanced at the window one last time before slipping her shoes on by the front door, watching as tiny flurries of snow began to fall onto the city below. She smiled.

It was early this year.

Anna promptly knocked on the door to The Garrison at nine o’clock that same morning. The snow was still falling, each flake thick enough to catch in her hair, a contrast of white on red, but soft enough that it would not stick to the ground, instead, it melted on contact with the muddy pavement. Harry, the barkeep, answered the door.

“Miss Caldwell, good morning.” He took a step to the side so she could enter. His face and nose were flushed red, he must’ve arrived not too long ago himself.

“And to you, Mr. Fenton.” She smiled, her breath turning into clouds as she spoke. “Quite the weather we’re having.”

“I’ll say,” He closed the door behind her and turned the lock. “Haven’t seen snow this early since I was a boy.”

“It’s good luck,” She replied while shrugging her coat off. “They say an early snow brings good fortune.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when my toes are freezing off in the morning,” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Follow me, you can leave your things in the back room.”

Once Anna was settled, she stood behind the bar with her own apron tied around her waist, (already stained, mind you) given to her by Harry. The remainder of the morning was another lesson in “making do” for her. The pub wouldn’t be officially open until noon, so this extra time beforehand was for her to get a feel for everything. To put it plainly, it was additional time to practice.

No matter how hard she tried to mask her nerves and keep her composure, it was like she had two left feet. Spilling drinks, forgetting the difference between vodka and gin, pouring a pint incorrectly, and causing the foam to rise over the rim of the glass.

Despite the extra time she had spent on her appearance, smoothing out any wrinkles on her skirt, curling her hair, and flashing a smile at all times- she couldn’t have felt any more out of place, and painfully unprepared. There was so much on the line for her. She had her own place and an aunt who needed financial help. She would keep trying, she didn’t have any other choice.

Harry was kind to her, and as patient as he could be, but it became quite obvious that she was a terrible bartender. Embarrassingly so. Terrible enough that he insisted that she just watch him for the rest of their shift, assuring her that it was for the best.

“It will be a slow night,” He said, wiping down the remnants of the third pint she had spilled. “A good way for you to learn the ropes. Nice and easy.”

Anna nodded, accepting her wounded pride. In the late afternoon and early evening, business was slow. It was quiet, a few patrons here and there ordering a drink or two. She was able to observe Harry interacting with the regulars and took mental notes of what people seemed to like. She thought it was quite pleasant.

Until it wasn’t a slow night.

Evidently, there was a football game earlier in the day, and all of the men came trailing in afterward. The pub became boisterous and loud. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“Just work on collecting the empty glasses,” Harry motioned with his head to the cluttered tables from across the bar. “I’ll take care of everything up here.”

Anna nodded, typing the apron around her waist tighter. She weaved through the crowds, deftly trying to avoid any leering gazes or comments. Of course, she made quite a few spills, and mentally kicked herself for being so clumsy, for letting her composure waver. In the beginning, she was slow going back and forth from table to bar, but eventually, she was able to get into a rhythm.

She placed the last few glasses on the bartop, exhaling heavily. The pub was finally empty. She glanced down at her blouse. This morning, the linen was freshly pressed and the color of cream, but this evening, however, it was stained with splotches of beer and other liquors. She frowned.

It was late.

Harry wiped a forearm across his brow. “You did well.”

“You’re very kind,” Anna wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “I did terribly.”

He laughed, quite loudly.

“I’ll finish cleaning up here,” He nodded. “You go catch a breath in the back.”

“No, no, let me help with the clean-up. I made most of the mess.”

“You had a long enough day today, and you’ll have a longer one tomorrow.” He smiled, waving her off with his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

Anna walked into the back room and sighed, collapsing onto a chair. She held her face in her hands. Her body ached, her feet especially, and her head throbbed. But more than anything, she was embarrassed. She was tired and wanted to weep. It was silly. Her first day of work and she wanted to cry. She swallowed sharply and stood up, untying the apron from her waist and tossing it over the back of the chair.

There was no point in crying, she would make do.

When she stepped back into the main room, Harry wasn’t alone anymore. It was the man who she spoke to a few days before, Mr. Shelby, standing by the bar with a glass in front of him. A cigarette dangled between two fingers, the smoke curling in the hazy lights above the bar. He didn’t notice her at first, and if he did, he didn’t make it known.

It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat, that he tilted his head toward her.

Anna glanced down at her beer-stained blouse and grimaced. She certainly felt like a mess, she could only imagine what she looked like. With a sheepish smile, she combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed it all over one shoulder.

“Miss Caldwell,” He nodded.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, folding her coat over her forearm.

“Heading home?” He turned away from her.

“Yes, just about.”

“Mrs. Gray instructed me to walk her home on these late nights,” Harry quickly interjected. She could've sworn Mr. Shelby scoffed at that.

“Ah, waiting on me then?” The other man raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, of course not Mr. Shelby.” Harry’s voice wavered. Anna noticed his eyes widening, like he was nervous, almost.

“I’m sure you’re both tired,” He finished the rest of his drink in one swig, and then fully turned to her. “First day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anna could feel her face flushing. A disastrous first day, she thought. “Harry was an excellent teacher.” She could see Harry beaming at that comment.

“Ah,” Mr. Shelby nodded, stacking a few coins beside his empty glass. He placed his cap on his head and tipped the brim to the barkeep, “Goodnight.” He paused for a moment, and then he tilted his head toward Anna. “And to you, Miss Caldwell.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, her cheeks growing warm. “Thank you again, for this opportunity.”

He hummed in response, shrugging on his coat as he walked to the door.

By the time Harry and Anna had locked up the pub and were outside, Mr. Shelby was halfway down the street. She watched as he walked away, unable to tear her attention away from his retreating form.

As if on cue, it started snowing again. The little white flecks looked more like the ashes that spewed from the factory chimneys.

“This way, Miss.” Harry’s voice interrupted her musings. She blushed, feeling silly for mooning over a man she hardly knew.

Just as she was about to look away, she saw Mr. Shelby stop short. Anna’s heart skipped a beat when he turned around and looked at her from over his shoulder.

All was and quiet and cold.

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Epilogue

a/n: It is done! I hope you’ve enjoyed my version of Ron and Hermione take on Australia. Enjoy this fluffy piece of fluffness! Another big thanks goes out to @be11atrixthestrange for being my beta for the second half of this story! <3

AO3 || FFN

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

Epilogue: Wagering Bets

Ron and Hermione had just apparated from the Ministry to outside the Burrow’s wards.  They’d gotten up incredibly early on Wednesday morning to return home Wednesday evening. Hermione thought that might be better to help them adjust to the time difference. 

“Think Mum’ll have dinner out still?” Ron asked her.

“Probably. It is half six, after all. I’m not sure I can eat dinner, though. The time difference has me all out of sorts,” Hermione stated as they walked down the lane toward the house.

“Says the witch who thought taking the first portkey at three in the morning would help us sleep better tonight,” Ron chuckled. “Maybe it’ll make it easier to adjust if we eat the right meal.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione agreed. “Who do you think will be most excited to see us? Your Mum or Harry?”

“Mum, no doubt,” Ron said confidently.

Hermione laughed. “I’d wager on Harry,” she countered.

Ron reached out to open the door and they were welcomed to the sight of the family eating dinner at the table. No one looked surprised to see Ron and Hermione walk through the door, but everyone was excited that they had returned. Mrs. Weasley had rushed over to them, and after she hugged Hermione, she began smothering her son. Ron noticed that the whole family was there, as his mum ushered them over to the table and began filling their plates.

They were peppered with questions about Australia and the trip, and the pair took turns answering between bites of Mrs. Weasley’s delicious cooking. The food in Australia was good, but nothing beat a home cooked meal at the Burrow in Ron’s eyes. Everyone was floored that they happened to walk right into Hermione’s dad while out on a stroll, and that things had gone smoothly in reconnecting. 

Hermione had explained that her parents were planning to return in August, and Ron asked Bill and his father if they’d be willing to help check on Hermione’s house and prepare it for her parent’s return. Both quickly agreed and were in the process of planning when Ginny interrupted. She had a look of impatience about her and Ron had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Why didn’t you answer my question?” she asked as she peered at him inquisitively.

“What question?” Ron was feigning innocence as Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Mate, she knows I wrote it, so I wouldn’t try and avoid it,” Harry muttered.

The rest of the table quieted down now, and Ginny had a look of mirth on her face. “Fine, I’ll ask it again. Have you or have you not gotten things sorted?” 

Knowing this was coming, Ron had thought up the perfect remark to set his sister in her place, while avoiding the subject until he and Hermione were ready to tell everyone about their relationship. “Why do you want to know so badly, anyways? Have you wagered a bet or something?” Ron retorted.

He expected his family to laugh at his response. It was absurd, wasn’t it? Yet, as he looked around the table, everyone was staring silently, waiting for an answer. It was only when Ron caught the tiniest of smirks from George that he realized that they actually had placed bets.

“Bloody hell, tell me you didn’t..” Ron groaned. Hermione’s cheeks were pink from what Ron assumed was embarrassment.

“So, are you going to keep us waiting or not ickle Ronniekins?” George asked.

“That depends on what the bets are,” Ron shot back.

“Ah, but that’s none of your concern. You see, you think you’re doing a good job of hiding it, but the fact that your ears and face aren’t that red from embarrassment tells more than you realize,” George explained.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ron said in an annoyed voice.

“It means you two are clearly together now since you’re not sputtering nonsense in an attempt to avoid it,” George said triumphantly.

He did want to tell his family, but not with George taking the mickey out of him for it. Ron figured he should be happy, since it meant he and Hermione wouldn’t have to make some big, uncomfortable announcement. Plus, George was acting more like himself, which was also a good thing, but he was still miffed by the whole ordeal.

“That’s rubbish,” Ron said. “You’re just trying to win whatever you bet on.” He was trying to call George out, but again it backfired when Percy spoke up.

“So, the charm bracelet on Hermione’s arm is simply a souvenir, then?”

Ron’s head whipped around and saw that Hermione’s elbow was propped up on the table from where she was just resting her head in her hand. It wasn’t that Ron was going to deny it as Hermione looked sheepishly up at him. Her eyes were trying to express an apology, but he didn’t quite believe it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d planned it that way all along, which was brilliant, really. It was their way of telling his family without really telling them, and the fact that Hermione had even thought of it was brilliant.

Before Ron could muster a reply, or even a reaction, Ginny instinctively reached across the table and grabbed Hermione’s hand. She was examining each of the charms, and as if his younger sister wasn’t already obnoxious enough, she started listing off the tiny figures for the rest of the table. 

“A book, how fitting,” she smirked. “Oh, and this looks like your patronuses, an otter and a terrier, very nice. A seashell?” Ginny said, looking up at the two of them. She was so focused on Ron and Hermione that she didn’t notice the shared glance between Bill and Fleur, who knew exactly what it meant. 

“And what’s this last one? Well, well, well, if it isn’t a heart! And it’s engraved with something...are those roses? Who knew my brother could be so romantic!” Ginny said as she let go of Hermione’s arm and sat back down, a triumphant look etched on her face.

Hermione looked at Ron again. There was no embarrassment in her eyes, only pride. She was proud to wear his bracelet, proud to have him as her boyfriend. Suddenly, the opinions of his family didn’t seem to matter anymore. He had the girl of his dreams and he wasn’t about to waste another moment pretending they weren’t together. Without bothering to care that they were still at the dinner table, Ron leaned over and kissed Hermione full on the mouth in front of everyone.

The gesture was met with cheers and wolf whistles, and all bets seemed to have been forgotten in the present moment. He vaguely heard people’s comments of ‘it’s about time,’ or ‘finally!’ Ron was pretty sure he also heard his mother say, “Oh, I always knew those two were meant for each other.” 

When things calmed down a bit, Mrs. Weasley stood up from the table and said, “I think this calls for a celebratory pudding!”

“Mrs. Weasley, I hardly think that’s necessary,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, Mum, it’s too late to prepare anything spe-'' Ron was cut off when his Mum brought a magnificent looking cake over to the table and set it down in front of them. “Why does this say ‘Congratulations Ron and Hermione’ on it?” he asked. The two of them were completely stunned.

“It- it could have been for our success in finding my parents? Or- or your offer for the Aurors?” Hermione said weakly.

“Oh, don’t be silly, you two! We all knew this was a long time coming,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“But how did you-” Ron asked.

“Mrs. Granger, of course! She told me you two had finally figured things out. We agreed we’d always keep the other informed if any developments were made. Honestly, we’ve been waiting since the Yule Ball, so it really is about time,” she continued, embarrassing them both now.

Everyone at the table burst out in laughter, and Ron found that he and Hermione had joined with them. When the spotlight was finally off of the two of them, Ron leaned over to his girlfriend. Whispering in her ear, he said, “Should we be worried about our mums plotting things now?”

He felt Hermione smile. “Perhaps, but I think it’s a small price to pay,” she said as she leaned into him.

Ron couldn’t have been happier. He was home, with all the people he loved. Hermione’s parents were coming home, and they both had plans in place for the future. The future. 

Less than two months ago, the future was so unsure. If you asked Ron then, he would have said he didn’t expect to make it through the war, and many close to him hadn’t. But now he had a future, with the woman he loved right there with him. Anything was possible, and he was determined to make the most of it, with the ones he loved right there by his side.

[slashermom]

PLEASE I NEED A PART THREE TO BO’S SOULMATE AU!! I loved it so much 😭😭

Who am I to deny such lovely people?

Part 1 Part 2

Oh god, what were you doing?

You tried to figure that out as you sat hunched over at a shady bus stop waiting for the next bus to arrive. You couldn’t have been less prepared. You were able to get Lester give you a twenty before you headed into the grocery store -which you were able to slip out of before Lester noticed. But besides that, you really had no money, no identification, no cellphone, not even a jacket to shield you from the crisp air that blew in after the sunset. Where do you go from here? 

You thought about calling the cops.

Lead every police officer in Louisiana cocked and ready to tear that town to shreds and watch the three of them get the punishment Lord knows they probably deserve. But that thought was quickly shut down. As bitter as you were, you couldn’t do that to him or his brothers.

Instead, you settled on the idea of hopping on the bus and seeing how far it would take you. You knew you might be able to get on a few different buses with the twenty you had crumpled up in your hand. You racked your brain on any friends you had that you could stay with, just until you could get on your feet again or until you got a hold of someone in your family. You’d figure it out, you always did.

It wasn’t until it was already too late that you noticed an approaching vehicle and it wasn’t the bus you were waiting for. No, you knew the rumble of that truck all too well. Before the car could come to a complete stop you got up and began speed walking in the opposite directly. Your heart practically fell into your stomach when you heard the car door open and the shut followed by the sound of footsteps a few paces behind yours.

“Y/N. Stop.”

Hearing his voice call out to you was all you needed to stop dead in your tracks. Keep walking you idiot. You’ve already made up your mind, don’t stop now. But of course - like most things with Bo - your better judgment went out the window. In fact, instead of continuing on your journey away from the man the universe deemed your soulmate, you actually decided to turn around and face him.

“Bo, listen, I’ve already made up my mind and…” Your words seemed to die off before you could complete your sentence. Even in the dull light provided by a few street lamps you could see the anger rolling off him in waves. What did he have to be angry about? That you cut into his drinking and bitching and moaning time? 

“Get in the truck.” This clearly wasn’t up for negotiation.

“How did you-“

“‘Cause I know you. Now, don’t make me say it again.”

You knew you could try to run, scream and hope some Good Samaritan would come and save you; but you had a funny feeling that wouldn’t end up well for anyone. You weighed your options for a moment longer before you decided you didn’t want to push him. You didn’t say another word before you brushed past him and towards that piece of shit truck he loved. 

Bo wasn’t far behind and he followed your lead in not speaking. As he started up the vehicle, you got a glimpse of bright orange lights in rearview. The bus had arrived. Of course it did. Frustration bubbled up in your chest at being so close but not close enough. But you kept any sign of it to yourself and settled on focusing on the dark road in front of you.

The car was suffocating. Both of you clearly wanted to say something but it seemed you were waiting for the other to speak first. You began to sneak peeks at him. He had his elbow propped up on the door as the back of his thumb traced his bottom lip, clearly his head somewhere else. His eyelids still heavy and dark from the alcohol. He’s probably driven worse. You honestly would have rathered him rattling of whatever came to his mind; Bo being quiet and angry would always be worse than him being loud and pissed. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I… I wasn’t gonna tell anyone… If that’s what you were worried about. I was just going to get on that bus and try to get back to my home.” You explained. You hoped you sounded reasonable. That maybe he would calm down a little if you explained that you weren’t interested in seeing him go to jail. But even you knew that a good explanation wasn’t always enough for Bo.

“You wanna know what I was worried about?” He gave you a sharp side-eye before deciding he wasn’t going to wait for you to answer and hit the breaks and pulled to the side of the dirt road.

“You.” He practically seethed. “I was worried about you.” He raised his finger to point at you to emphasize his point before he shook his head and looked away. Now, that made you scoff. 

“I don’t get it. I don’t get you, Bo. First, you tell me that our relationship doesn’t mean anything and the next you chase me down just to bring me back.” You exasperated. “And for what? Just so we can start this cycle all over again? Why don’t you just let me go?”

“I can’t do that.” It came out just above a whisper. It was strange and uncharacteristic for the brunette to not be anything but loud, proud, and unapologetic. 

“Can’t or won’t?” You felt yourself grow more frustrated with his vagueness and moved your body so you were completely facing him to the best of your ability within the cab of the truck.

“Won’t.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t think I wish I could?!” His sudden outburst jumped you, which he didn’t miss. It reminded you of the first few months you were with him. How you used to flinch and jump and every one of his movements. You saw the disappointment flicker in his eyes just like it had all those months ago. 

 “Trust me, sweetheart, I was perfectly fine before I met you. I didn’t need nobody but myself but now…”

Bo wouldn’t meet your gaze, instead, he settled on staring out the windshield and sighed. He was shutting you off again - just like he always does. Sometimes you would get to see glimpses of the man underneath that rough exterior but he always would reign that side of him back under lock and key before you could get a good look.

“But what, Bo? You can’t just start saying something like that and not finish it.” You wanted to grab his face and make him look you in eyes. For once, you just wanted him to be completely honest with you - even if it hurt.

“I care about you.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

“I know that’s probably not exactly you’re lookin’ to hear and I know it’s no ‘I love you’.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth - which you learned he often did when he was thinking or was trying to find the right words.

“Y/N, I’m not sure I really know how to love someone. Love them right, I mean. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what that word even means. But you’re the closest thing I have felt to it.” Your eyes stung with the threat of tears but you willed them back. God damn him. He shows the tiniest bit care and you’re about to be a blubbering mess. 

“That’s why I acted the way I did tonight. Because I’m scared shitless of what I feel when I look at you. I’ve been tryin’ to convince myself that if I push you hard enough you’ll leave… and you did.” Guilt plagued his voice and features and it pulled right on your heartstrings. Still, you tried to stay as stoic as possible. You knew it was futile. He could read you like a book - always could.

“But when I saw the look on your face after what I said to you and then the way I felt after I got that call from fuckin’ Lester… I realized somethin’.” For the first time since you had met each other, Bo actually seemed to take his time with his words. Of course he picks the one time when you want him to get the point the most. 

“That even though I’m scared of whatever this is, I’m even more terrified of the thought of you not being around.” He slowly picked up your hand with both of his and caressed the scarring that covered your wrist like a bracelet. 

“This does mean somethin’. I may not understand how this whole soulmate thing works but I do know how I feel about you. And… I’m sorry for what I said… Y’know, earlier.”

Were you hearing him right? Did Bo Sinclair just apologize and admit that he cares about you? 

You knew it took a lot for Bo to admit something was bothering him, let alone scaring him. He even apologized. He laid everything out in the open for you and you could see from the look in his eyes he was ready for the worst. You wanted to tell him he was full of shit, that this was another one of his manipulative tactics. That you were just a possession he wasn’t ready to give up yet. To be strong and not let him sucker you in.

 But whether it be because your resolve was weak or because of the strange, invisible, ties you have together - you couldn’t.

“I believe you.” You moved your other hand to grasp his. Squeezing it tightly, you felt tears fall down your face that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. He pushed out a breath of relief and blinked rapidly. Bo’s lips curved up and he gave you a genuine smile, one that you couldn’t help but return.

“But we’re gonna be laying some rules down.” You spoke up and he chuckled.

“Like what?”

“Like no more of this keeping things to yourself stuff. Something’s bothering you, you tell me. You’re not alone anymore so don’t act like it, you hear me?” You let go of his hand and wiped the tears from your cheeks as you tried to set and authoritative tone.

“Loud and clear, boss.” He took the opportunity of you being too busy with wiping your eyes and nose to grab the back of your head and press a kiss to your forehead. You felt yourself lean forward, trying to keep as close to him as long as possible.

“Now, let’s go home before I change my mind.” You joked while trying to calm yourself down.

“Like I would let you go.” He rolled his eyes and brought his hands back to the wheel. You only shook your head at him. You knew the both of you still had a lot to work on but tonight was a start. You’d two would figure it out, you always did.

[syntheticpoetry]

The Ghosts That We Knew

See my original post on the origins of this story here!

Summary: Blaine Anderson is no stranger to hospitals and has been volunteering on the pediatric unit of Lima General Hospital for years when Kurt Hummel comes along.  After Blaine is attacked at his school's Sadie Hawkins Dance, he has his best friend Kurt to help him deal with the aftermath. And when Kurt becomes the target of the McKinley football team's bullying campaign, he can count on Blaine to have his back.

AU where Blaine transfers to McKinley instead of Dalton. Set during season 1.A story of two best friends finding courage to face their bullies and discovering love along the way.

Author’s Note: Blaine has a reason he has been in an out of the hospital since childhood that will be revealed, but if you are overly cautious of the level of angst surrounding it I can assure you it's nothing heartbreaking/super serious. It's actually quite common.  I cannot thank @esperantoauthor​ enough for beta reading this for me and really helping me whip it into shape!

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Chapter 1: Of Viral Videos and Disney Princes

The last time that Kurt Hummel remembers being in a hospital, he told his mother that he loved her for the last time.  

That was six years ago.  

As he walks through the lobby, towards the directory by the elevators, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, careful not to spare a glance at the waiting area to his right.  He spent so many months in that waiting room.  Entire seasons, multiple holidays spent watching people receive good news and bad news, with his father stoic and silent beside him as his mother underwent procedure after procedure.  Until it was their turn to be the family that received bad news.  The doctor sounded sincere as he said a lot of big words Kurt could not quite understand at the time, but he understood the look on his father’s face.  He took to studying the ugly designs on the carpet to distract from the tight clench in his father’s jaw, the way he kept himself so still and barely blinked through the entire explanation— Kurt knew, even at eight years old, what it was like to use up all of your willpower to hold yourself together for the sake of someone else.  To this day, he cannot look at paisley print without thinking back to that awful day.

Kurt scans the directory before punching the up button to call the elevator and folds his arms across his chest, tapping his foot as he awaits its arrival.  When he first heard about the volunteer program on the pediatric unit he was naturally hesitant to return to the place that held some of his worst memories.  He had been on the fence about it all summer, torn between the desire to give back to the hospital staff that had gone above and beyond in their attempts to cure his mother’s cancer and wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the place where they finally had to say goodbye to each other.

Until he saw that YouTube video.  

A curly-haired boy with big doe eyes and an unwavering grin, guitar in hand, leading a Disney themed sing-along with a group of elementary school age kids.  The warmth that spread through Kurt’s chest was almost overwhelming as he watched the boy march around the room performing Hakuna Matata with the parade of children trailing behind, mimicking him raucously and off-key.  It was the first time Kurt had really smiled in a long time.

So he had decided to look into the program.  Mostly because witnessing the boundless energy of pure joy from each child singing along in that video elicited memories of countless nights of living room performances with his own father, both of them puffy-eyed and exhausted but still managing to find the stamina to sing at the top of their lungs, using the furniture as stage props.  They were two lost souls attempting to cling to each other through tidal waves of insurmountable grief, and those nights together— well, those nights wereeverything to Kurt.  He had never felt closer to his father than when they were both breathless and laughing their way through the most eclectic collection of songs imaginable, hugging each other tightly at the end of each performance.  

And if Kurt happened to run into the boy from the video along the way, well, that would certainly just be an added bonus. Kurt did have eyes after all.  And there was no denying the boy’s natural charm or the air of confidence with which he carried himself.  

Truth be told, entering yet another school year with no friends was beginning to take its toll on Kurt and the possibility of finding camaraderie with a cute boy who seemingly shared similar interests was certainly enticing.

Ding!

The doors slide open before him revealing an empty elevator.  Kurt steps in and presses the button for the fourth floor.  He thinks about that video and jumping on armchairs and couches in his living room with his father for the entire ride up.

***

He has to be buzzed in to enter the unit, which he thinks is strange.  But the woman who greets him, a young nurse with bright green eyes and deep auburn hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, explains it is the protocol for all pediatric units in order to prevent children from wandering away or being kidnapped.  There are security bracelets around each patient’s ankle that trigger an alarm if they are taken past a bright yellow line painted on the floor.

“Who would kidnap sick kids from a hospital?” Kurt asks, looking absolutely horrified.

“You would be surprised at how common it is.  Parents fighting over custody, usually.”

He nods and guesses that makes sense, but the thought is still deeply unsettling.

The hallways are empty as she leads him to a room behind the nurse’s station.  The unit is certainly much different from the one his mother had been on.  The walls are covered in murals of different cartoon characters and scenes from popular storybooks.  While the nurse punches in a code, Kurt studies a painting of Rapunzel in a high stone tower, golden plaited hair strung over the edge of the window for a handsome prince at the bottom. The door buzzes and she holds it open for him.  “I’ll let my supervisor know you’re here.”

Kurt thanks her and takes a seat at one of the tables to wait.  On the far wall he spots a bulletin board covered in an overabundance of overlapping photos, hand-drawn pictures and a variety of cards both homemade and store-bought.  He casts a quick glance towards the door before crossing the room to investigate.  He cannot help but smile as he scans over the collection of memories, reminiscing back to his own pile of hand drawn cards for the staff on the oncology unit.  

Then something catches his eye.  

It’s the curly haired boy from the video.  He’s standing, guitar in hand with the strap over his shoulder, in the center of a group photo, surrounded by children of varying ages and the unit staff.  His outfit is different from the one in the video though.  He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a printed T-shirt, only the edges of the otherwise obscured design visible from behind the guitar over his torso.  In the video he had certainly seemed more, well, put together, to say the least.  He had worn light grey slacks and a navy polo shirt accented with a white bow tie, which Kurt could not help but notice because he could count on one hand the amount of teenage boys he had ever seen wearing bow ties in the state of Ohio, himself included.  

Kurt wonders how often he comes by to visit and volunteer.  Maybe there is a chance they will be able to meet after all.

The faint beeping of the key code and jiggling of the door handle to his left draws his attention and he turns in time to see an older woman with ashy blonde hair and huge round glasses that take up half of her face walk in.  Her scrub top is printed with different Winnie the Pooh characters.  She smiles and approaches him, extending her hand.  “Hi, you must be Kurt.  I’m Jeannie; we spoke on the phone last week.”

“Oh! Yes,” Kurt shakes her hand.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” She gestures to a table and Kurt takes a seat opposite her.  “So we just have to get some paperwork in order and then we can take a little tour around the unit so you can meet the kids.”

“Okay.”

“This is your first time volunteering, right?” She opens a Manila folder and begins rifling through a large stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“What drew you to it?”

Kurt steals a glance towards the bulletin board, lips curling up into a half-smile.  “I heard about it through my school a few months back, but honestly? I spent a lot of time visiting my mom in this hospital when I was a kid and when me and my dad would get home he would always try to cheer me up.  We put on a lot of concerts for my stuffed animals in our living room.  And I mean… like a lot .”  

Her eyes are soft as she listens, a piece of paper held loosely between both hands just inches off of the table, almost forgotten, and gives him an empathetic smile.

“I saw that video of the Disney sing-along online and I just really wanted to be a part of it, helping kids, especially with music, because it’s really helped me through some tough times.”

“Well,” She straightens up and slides the paper across the table towards him, “I think the kids will really love having you around.  Do you play any instruments?”

“Never missed a piano lesson,” Kurt says, grinning.  “But mostly, I love to sing.”

The paperwork consists of a lot of signatures.  Kurt is not to discuss any of the patients or their health conditions with others in order to maintain privacy regulations, not to post anything to social media without permission, and just a lot of general information about the hospital’s protocols such as what to do in the event of emergency scenarios (of which there are many ).  By the end of it, Kurt has a pretty sizable stack of papers to take home with him and a dull cramp in his wrist.  

“I know it seems like a lot of information, but nothing you have to memorise.  You’ll always be with other staff members who will guide you through every step of the way.”

Kurt releases a nervous laugh, “Okay, good.  I can save my highlighters for school work then.”

***

Jeannie leads the way to the playroom which, she explains, is a safe space for all the children on the unit that remains open every day until 7 p.m.  No medications or treatments are allowed to be administered to a child in the playroom, they must be brought out first.  There are about ten kids inside, ranging from toddlers to older teens, all of whom have seemingly gravitated towards splitting into their own little cliques based on ages.  As soon as they enter the room two of the younger kids, a boy and girl no older than three or four, look up from a mountain of blocks and start crying.  Kurt casts an alarmed glance at Jeannie.

“It’s okay, you can keep playing.” Jeannie kneels down and stacks a loose block onto their small tower.  “Everyone, this is Kurt, he’s going to be coming by to help out and spend some time with all of you.” She stands up and backs away from the two toddlers with the blocks to stand beside Kurt again.  

“It’s the uniform,” she says quietly to him.  “Some get scared when they see us come into a room cause it usually means it’s time for medicine or treatments.”

“Hi, Kurt!” A small girl with bronze skin, a round face, and long thick black hair comes over and takes his hand.  “I’m Melanie! You wanna come draw with me?”

She does not wait for an answer before she starts tugging on his hand and walking back towards a small rectangular table covered with construction paper and crayons.  She climbs into one of two plastic blue chairs which are far too tiny for Kurt to fit in, so he sits on the floor beside the table, crossing his legs.  Melanie slides a piece of yellow construction paper towards him and pushes a pile of crayons into the middle for them to share.

“Did you draw all of these?” Kurt picks up a red crayon and starts sketching.

“Yes! My daddy brought my big brother to visit and we draw together,” she says, shading in what looks like a sunflower with a purple crayon.

“They’re very beautiful; I like that one a lot.” Kurt taps the one she is currently working on.  “I’ve never seen a purple sunflower before.”

“I’m gonna invent them one day,” she says matter-of-factly.  Kurt smiles and returns to his sketch of a new outfit design that has been floating around his mind for the past week.  

“Woah!”

Kurt begins to lift his head up to locate where the voice has come from when he spots movement beside his left elbow.  To say the boy is small would be an understatement.  He is tiny .  A pale, skinny little thing dressed in Batman pajamas that look two sizes too big on him.  He has wide, bright blue eyes and is wearing a charcoal grey beanie.  Clutched between his toothpick arms is a stuffed rabbit with drooping ears the size of its entire body.  

“Hello,” Kurt says as the boy leans forward to peer at his drawing.

“You can draw,” the boy says, clutching his rabbit closer.  

“Would you like to draw with us?”

“Can’t draw,” he says.

“Oh, I bet that’s not true,” Kurt says and holds out the crayon to him.  “Everyone can draw.”

The boy looks at the crayon then up to Kurt and shakes his head shyly before raising the bunny up to his chin, hugging it tightly.

“What’s your name?” Kurt asks.

“Jason,” he says quietly.

“Well, would you like to watch me and Melanie draw?”

“I’m really good.” Melanie looks up at him.  “You can sit next to me, I’ll show you.”

Kurt spends the next hour drawing with Melanie while Jason continues to peek curiously between them.  The other kids begin to trickle out of the room, some led by nurses, some by visiting family members.  Pretty soon, only the three of them are left until Jason’s mother comes in to collect him.  Before he leaves, Kurt holds out a piece of paper to him.

“Something tells me you like Batman,” Kurt says as Jason’s eyes widen at the image of a child-sized Batman with bright blue eyes.  “How about next time you can draw me?”

“Okay.” Jason grins, slipping the picture between his stuffed bunny and his chest to hold it there safely.  “But you’re gonna look like a potato.  I really can’t draw.”

It is the most Kurt has heard him speak all afternoon.  Something about the way he talks contradicts the way he looks. Kurt wonders how old he actually is; the boy looks smaller than most five year olds he’s seen but definitely talks like an older child.  Kurt makes a mental note to find out next time.  “Deal.  I can’t wait to see it.”

Jason’s mom gives Kurt a parting smile before she shepherds her son away.  Soon after, Melanie’s nurse comes to collect her as well, leaving only Kurt and Jeannie in the empty playroom.

“That went well,” she says.  “You’re a natural with them.”

Kurt beams back at her, a sense of pride swelling in his chest.  

After his dad comes to pick him up, Kurt spends the entire car ride home filling him in on the events of the day, excluding Jason and Melanie’s names.  He goes to bed that night with his mind already buzzing with activities for the next visit.

***

Kurt starts volunteering two days a week after school and over the course of the next month, he becomes very familiar with some of the regular kids on the unit.  Jason, he discovers, is actually nine years old, has leukemia and is in his final round of chemotherapy by the first week in October.  Melanie has sickle cell anemia and had been hospitalized for something called ‘sickle cell crisis’— she had gone home two weeks after they first met, but Kurt learns that she usually returns frequently for the same problem.  There’s a teenage boy not much older than Kurt is, but taller and skinnier with jet black hair and sad eyes, named Julian who has cystic fibrosis— he usually keeps to himself, oftentimes choosing to sit in the back corner of the playroom and silently watch everyone else.  

The rest have been a whirlwind of faces and names with a variety of issues such as pneumonia, appendicitis, broken bones and asthma attacks.  There have also been quite a few cases of children who have come in with injuries as a result of abuse at home, more so than Kurt would have imagined actually occurred.  He finds trying to interact and engage with those kids to be the most heartbreaking.

Some of the kids are not as keen to warm up to him as others, keeping to themselves or staying with their families while Kurt leads sing-alongs, painting lessons, hosts movie nights, and reads aloud during story time.  He has developed a steady routine in the five weeks since he began volunteering.  So on the Tuesday during the second week of October he waves hello to the security personnel by the front entrance like he usually does.  He rides up the same elevator and is buzzed into the unit by Rosie, the first nurse he met with the auburn hair.  And with his usual wide smile in place, he strolls into the playroom with a new four-pack of Disney themed puzzles under his arm.  

But when he walks in, the kids are already sitting in a circle, staring up at a boy with loosely gelled curls coiffed into a fluffy side part, bright hazel eyes, and a sapphire acoustic guitar perched on his lap. Kurt is caught completely off guard as he realises, Oh god, it’s him! It’s the guy from the video!

He looks shorter in person than Kurt assumed.  In both the photo on the bulletin board and the video his hair was ungelled and wild.  Kurt vividly remembers his dark curls bouncing as he bopped his head along to the music while impersonating Timon and Pumba for the younger kids.  He’s dressed in another carefully selected outfit though— bright red pants, a black polo and a white bow tie with black polka dots on it.  

“Kurt!” A few of them yell excitedly.    

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kurt I’ve been hearing so much about,” The boy with the guitar says, that same unwavering grin already in place.  “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Blaine.”

[soft-sunflower]

Flower of Evil Thoughts: Part 1- Episode 11

OKAY. FIRST OF ALL. WAS I RIGHT OR WAS I RIGHT? ABOUT MANY THINGS. I KNEW we were in for a massive emotional blow from Hyunsoo. I KNEW we were in for getting our hearts utterly wrecked by him and Jiwon. I know mine is. I KNEW who the accomplice was. I just... KNEW. I love that so many of my theories were correct from the get go. Alright, on we go to this week's episode thought post made by yours truly.

Alright so, we begin our episode at the hospital. OMG!!! Our little baby girl Eunha had just been born!!! Jiwon is overcome with all kinds of emotion. One of the things she says is "I'm grateful that she made it." It makes me wonder if there were complications during Eunha being delivered? Hyunsoo is trying to understand the reason for his wife's tears, and expresses to her that he's worried when she asks what's on his mind. I have a pretty good idea of what he's worried about, but obviously he cannot say this to Jiwon.

"What if she doesn't like me?" Translates to

"What if she resents having me for her father? What if she ends up like me, unable to express or understand emotions? What if she ends up like my father? What if she doesn't have your personality? What if I fail her the way I was failed growing up?"

Of course he can't say this because he doesn't even really know nor understand it himself.  Then their baby girl starts to cry. Hyunsoo looks curiously at her and asks Jiwon

"Why did she suddenly burst into tears?"

Jiwon explains she probably shares their feelings.

"There's a lot she wants to say, but she can't put it into words yet."

I feel like this is important to pay attention to. A lot she wants to say, but can't put it into words and this is why she's crying. Hmmm...

Alright, so back to Haesoo discovering the green bracelet back when the hospital opened, and she hears a strange sound outside. I have to admit, when she ripped open the curtains, it gave me a jumpscare haha. I thought something BAD was gonna be out there waiting for her! They sure do a good job at keeping the suspense up! I wasn't sure what was going to happen. lol You never can tell in this drama. It's always got me on my toes. Haesoo is getting closer and closer to the accomplice. She can feel it. I can too, but it has me worried.

OKAY so, we finally pick back up at the scene in present-day for Jiwon where last week's episode ended with Detective Choi Jaeseop confronting Jiwon about Do Hyunsoo's identity. I felt a very strong, almost brotherly aspect from Detective Choi here with Jiwon, but he still frustrated me unbelievably. I get it, he's a cop. Just doing his job, but still... please use your brain on this rather than taking a cold case at face value. There's A LOT more going on he does not know. I have to give him props for covering smoothly for Jiwon. I know he isn't doing this to hurt Jiwon. That this is his job, but I don't have to like it. I just hate how he acts on his gut feeling and what he's "heard" or hearsay rather than working with Jiwon to uncover the truth that Do Hyunsoo did not kill the village foreman.

Also excuse me?? I'm sorry, Detective Choi, but her emotions are VERY VERY real. Whether you want to believe that or not. Jiwon knows so much more than you do about this entire ordeal and you should stop riding on your own emotions for a moment and work with your teammate rather than telling her she needs off the case. Such as, finding out the real Heeseong is NOT dead. He's been comatose for 14+ years and now he's wide awake and talking. This is one case she HAS to be on no matter what. Because he is so dearly misinformed. I'm getting a little tired of this "He's deceiving you" crap about Hyunsoo because we all know this isn't the truth. Yes, he kept his real identity secret, but he never faked anything around her. He showed her openly who he really is and can be. He was NEVER Baek Heeseong. He was ALWAYS Do Hyunsoo. A good person.

When Jiwon fell to her knees pleading  (Moon Chaewon's delivery of "Sunbae, please!" and "I'll put my life on the line to prove his innocence!" hurt so much that if I had been standing, I would've went to my knees too *sob* Well done, girl) to him. I do like how he wanted to try and protect her by saying "You don't know anything." I have to give him some credit for that.

"It's obvious how the world will see him. Everyone will throw rocks at him and taunt him indefinently."

Oh Jiwon... he's already been through that. LITERALLY. *glares are freaking Moojin* But we definitely don't want that happening to him again. He's a GOOD man and he deserves for the world to see that he's good and he's innocent. You are going to be the one who can prove who he is to the world. And no, Detective Choi... she won't thank you. Not now or ever for arresting any innocent man that also happens to be her husband. I'm sorry, but no. She won't.

We cut to Hyunsoo and Moojin together in Hyunsoo's car... I knew from the start that this operation was too well put together. There's no way that transaction was gonna flow as smoothly as Hyunsoo hoped it would. Though I'm glad that Moojin did come along for help and I'm glad that Hyunsoo had a plan B if things went south, which they ALWAYS do because hello? This is Kdrama world haha. The bugging device was clever on Hyunsoo's part, and I'm glad he was thinking ahead on that one. This stuff is never bound to go right. And once again, clever clever with turning on the switch AFTER he'd been ran over with the detector. Nice one.

Alright, Detective Choi earned more redemption from me here when he smoothly lied to their fellow teammates about "Eunha being sick and in the hospital." I will give him more credit here. Credit where credit is due, but I am SO proud of Jiwon for not backing down on this, stepping in and taking charge. Girl, GET. IT!! Protect your man!!!I LOVE her fierce determination here. You aren’t gonna stop her, sunbae.

YES!!! Moojin has the address to where the people captured by the human traffickers are waiting! I'm so glad for this honestly. I'm really glad Hyunsoo bugged that bag. Jiwon gets the call from the "informant" (Moojin pretending to be Hyunsoo, which YES she IS needed on this case THANK YOU very much) and now they know where they can rescue those kidnapped people while busting the trafficking ring.

"You want me to just stay in the office and wait!? What would you do in my shoes?"

And it seems Detective Choi has a moment of conscience here because what WOULD he do? He's got a wife too, right? What would HE do if this were HIS wife that he so dearly loves??? That's right. He'd be just like Jiwon. Who wouldn't??

Ahhh, just as Yeom Sangchul is about to hand over the photos of the accomplice to Hyunsoo, his phone rings... and guess what it says on the screen? BAEK. Yep. That's right. Freaking BAEK. And it's the unfather. It's Baek Manwoo calling to not only put a hit out on Hyunsoo but to tell the trafficker that he's working with the police to catch them and offers him TWICE the money he's already giving them if they kill Hyunsoo... I mean REALLY??? WTF you shady bastard! I had a BAD feeling from him since the very first episode and those bad feelings just continue to be confirmed to me. This whole Baek family are nothing but creepy, shady, untrustworthy assholes covering up some major shit such as WORKING WITH HUMAN TRAFFICKERS. Down to the point that Yeom Sangchul called him "Sir." UGH. DISGUSTING.

Heeseong is "scared" of Do Hyunsoo? Oh please... Why I do I feel like a lot of this that he's pulling off is a big act? I dunno. I could be wrong but I do not trust him in the least.

And now Noona!? Girl what are you DOING!? Haven’t you ever heard the term Stranger Danger? Well, these are strangers and this is danger! Watching her go behind those iron gates just gives me this creepy "point of no return" vibe. You know? She is far far too trustworthy... Was it smart to tell them her name?? And that Hyunsoo is her brother?? The look on Heeseong's face SCREAMS guilty when he hears Haesoo speak her name. I'm JUST saying. He's fucked. He KNOWS who Haesoo is after all. 

YESSSS!!!! So gratifying watching the cops BUST that trafficking ring! Thank you, Hyunsoo!! Your tip off just saved A LOT of lives. I really hope the cops so eager to imprison him realize this too on top of his innocence. Jiwon and Jaeseop's chase of the bartender on the bridge was awesome. I loved watching Jiwon switch directions with both her and Jaeseop have him surrounded on that bridge. When I saw Jiwon get stabbed I screamed. I really screamed. Because I thought for sure she was hurt, and thank GOD she had protective gear on. I love how she reemed Jaeseop's ass for not wearing his. HAH! And you didn't want her on this case! My girl is a legit badass.

Then when Jaeseop told her not to butt in in the future, and asked if she knew how scared he was (awww like a big ole brother protecting his sister), Jiwon tells him "I have no future." Oh god... *chokes* Yes you do, baby girl. Yes you do. You just don't know it yet. They capture the guy, are about to head back and she tells him "I still have something to do." YESSSS Queen. Go get your man! He's still wearing his watch. You'll find him so go get him out of that dangerous place!!!

Annnnd now the big moose trafficker guy working with Yeom Sangchul is beating the holy hell out of our Hyunsoo. I knew this was bound to happen. NONE of these things ever go properly or smoothly in Kdrama and of course it's for dramatic affect, but still. It's hard to watch him get tossed around and beaten like a ragdoll. Hyunsoo tries to fight back, but it's almost like no will is there. He's just going through the motions. He throws Hyunsoo into a shelving unit and slams his head off of a glass bottle, shattering it and busting his head open. And then he slams his head through a glass cabinet door. Again... another head injury.  (This poor man seriously needs to get thoroughly checked and evaluated for head injury, fractures, contusions, concussions, etc... because with how much he's hit his head... goodness!!!)

Awww, Moojin... you tried really hard to save Hyunsoo, didn't you with the fire extinguisher act? That's definitely a redeeming quality for you here. I'm grateful you did that, even if it wasn't very effective. He can't get out, Moojin.. he's had the shit beat out of him and now he's tied up. But I so appreciate your efforts in trying to rescue our protagonist. Why does Lee Joongi have to be so incredibly gorgeous, even when he's got bloody head wounds and is all tied up. Gosh. My brain is thinking lots of things. Okay let's FOCUS.

THIS WHOLE BAEK FAMILY IS A SHADY, FAKE, LYING SACK OF SCUM. PLEASE, Noona... PLEASE do not fall for this. HAH. Well, their son isn't comatose anymore. He's wide awake. Also, took pity on Hyunsoo!? No they didn't. Not even CLOSE. They used him to their advantage. They're worried Hyunsoo will get caught up in it? HAHA! BULLSHIT. And you KNOW he isn't a criminal and yet you treat him like one!? Why not just leave the him TF alone. He doesn't want your son's identity anymore. You're putting hits on him with a human trafficker and you're gonna act like he matters? Noona, please... PLEASE don't fall for their act.

Oh she's telling them too much. WAY too much. She's giving them too much vital information, and I'm really afraid that this is going to be somehow used against her... especially in regards to the accomplice... who I believe is also CHEWING HIS NAILS ON HIS LEFT HAND. JUST LIKE I SAID HE WAS DOING IN THE PREVIEW. WHICH IS ANOTHER LEAD TO HIM BEING THE ACCOMPLICE. Those left nails. Chewed off. Nervous habit obviously, but STILL OBVIOUS OKAY. The real Heeseong IS the accomplice. Look at the way the whole Baek family behaves. They're a horrible, scary, shady family trying to cover their murderous son's ass.

Ohhhh CRAP, Moojin!!! He is getting the holy HELL beat out of him and he's getting it on video on his phone too! Like WOW!!! People are seeing this stuff live!!! This is absolutely crazy!!! No good stomping the phone, bro. All of that was just broadcast live. Good luck getting out of your lil trafficker ring hideout on time. You're gonna burn Hyunsoo alive??? Seriously??? That's pretty cruel. At least Hyunsoo tries to be clever by also trying to weasel the name out of the guy that ratted him out. Oh if ONLY Hyunsoo could find out!! That's MORE valuable information to help clear his name! That the shady unfather put a hit out on him. He deserves to know that this man is out for his blood.

YASSSSSSSSSS JIWON!!!! GO QUEEN!!! GO AND SAVE YOUR MAN!!!! GET HIM OUTTA THERE AND BLOW THAT TRAFFICKER'S HEAD OFF!!!! Obviously this isn't going to happen. Jiwon wouldn't kill unless absolutely necessary is what I believe. She is a police officer after all, but there was NOTHING like watching Jiwon have her gun to that piece of garbage excuse for a human being gang punk bastard's head while looking at her husband saying "Sweetie, are you alright?" It's a whole.fucking.ass.mood. I'll reiterate my statement from earlier. JIWON IS A LEGIT BADASS. She is such an amazing lead female. The look on Hyunsoo’s face... It’s like he’s in a state of shock.

YAY!!! The victims are FREE!!! Thank god In Seo is okay!! And yes, sweet precious baby boy. You can go home. You most certainly can go home and don't ever EVER run away from your mother ever again. You stay next to her and both of you need to protect each other and keep each other out of any dangerous situations, y'know, like showing up in shady places that involve a human trafficking ring. No more trying to take on fake jobs that will "make you lots of money." That's the first sign it's a dangerous situation and non-legit. Also, I love how the team leader knows Jaeseop is lying to him, but that he wouldn't do it without good reason. And I'm glad he's still keeping it up. I like that he's still protecting Jiwon. Even if that means lying to their team leader. He's going to make his arrest in the morning, but he's going to let Jiwon and Hyunsoo have the whole night together... oh god, my heart. Please don't imprison an innocent man...

Oh, Hyunsoo... oh honey. You can see emotion beginning to brim the surface here as he stumbles out Jiwon's name saying "You knew...?" Yes, sweetheart. She's known for a little while now, and she was completely unsure of what to do or how to tell you until she got the truth of it all. And here she is. Getting you out of there. Rescuing you and protecting you. Jiwon is your fiercest protector. That much is clear. And OMG DO NOT PUT YOUR GUN AWAY JIWON. GET YOUR CUFFS BUT DO NOT... OH NO!!!!

Gangster piece of SHIT is attacking her!!! And Hyunsoo is LOSING it because he's tied up and he can't get to his wife! So what does he do while he watching this nasty bastard try to kill her? ADRENALINE SURGE! He literally BUSTS the handles off the cabinet with tied up arm strength alone because the idea of his wife being choked to death in front of him has sent him into a frenzy, gets his hands free and beats the ever living deserving SHIT out of Yeom Sangchul, to the point that he's seeing RED and he's going to kill this son of a bitch for daring to lay a hand on his wife. He's in full blown protective husband mode and it's actually pretty hot. I can't help it. It is. Whenever JG fights, he is like fire hot sexy af, and I LOVE every moment of it.

Okay, so Jiwon pulls him off of Sangchul and here we go... she's telling him. He's telling him she knows. She's telling him that Detective Choi has evidence that he's Do Hyunsoo, and the way she tells him he can't go home (omg his FACE at this words...) keeps telling him to go, slaps his chest and shoves him back, tells him to run and never come back to her again, and the look on his face breaks my heart, because I feel like this tells him she knows and doesn't want him anymore. She knows your real identity and this is why she wants you gone. She doesn't love you anymore, she wants you gone. The person Do Hyunsoo is not worth the love of a woman like Cha Jiwon.

“You’re good at running and hiding!” Ohhh ouch, Jiwon... I truly believe that this is how he feels because that's how he's lived all of his life. Believing himself unworthy of love because of all the adults who failed him in his life, the adults who didn't help him, teach him, show him what it's like to be loved, what love feels like, what the emotions that accompany love feel like. He's emotionally shaken. It's written all over his face, his eyes, and his body language. The man who supposedly can't recognize emotion is getting very emotional. He's lost. He doesn't know what to do. Jiwon is just as equally crushed. She doesn't want to lose her husband, but of course Hyunsoo does not know this. He believes Jiwon doesn't want him anymore. So he does as he's told and leaves the room with his head bowed. All Jiwon can do is cry over her retreating husband. That was hard to watch...

Moojin rushes in to find Jiwon on the phone asking for backup and Yeom Sangchul unconscious on the floor...

To be continued in Part 2

[calmlftv]

girl, put your records on. - m.c.

description: you are the owner of a popular local bakery, and lately, life’s been a little bit hectic. thankfully, the cute record store owner next door seems to know the perfect solution!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: n/a!

w/n: here’s part 1 of my record store!michael au! this is probably the cutest thing i’ve ever written so i hope u enjoy it 🥺

taglist: @spicycal @castaway-cashton​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​ @thesubtweeter​ @ashisonthefloor​ @ashtonsos​ @loveroflrh​ @bestyearssos​ @treatallwithkindness​ @bestyearslftv​ 

****

The lock clicked as you tugged the door open, being sure to let it fall shut behind you and double checking the lock before you continued into your bakery, disabling the alarm while you made your way to the back, flicking on the light switches on your way. 

It was around 3 a.m., your usual time to come in with your messy bun and leggings, the old and flour covered apron being pulled on over your jacket. Tying it around your waist, you walked over to the office, propping open the door and grabbing the thick binder of orders you had stashed on a shelf. It made a loud thud when you tossed it on a workspace, the shiny silver reflecting the bags under your eyes as you hovered over the papers, eyes scanning the details and photos you had printed for every order you have. 

This bakery was your pride and joy; you started it while in high school, selling your baked goods to other students for a dollar a piece as you struggled to pay for your car and groceries for your family. It quickly became a second job as you perfected your recipes, locking them away in a dusty old trunk under your bed when you would leave for the day. While still in college you got your first lawn sign, planting it outside your home on the main street of your town, and you quickly made enough to buy a second building; it was set to be demolished but you refused to give up on it, keeping up with your studies and home business until you essentially paid for the building four times over. 

Your opening day for your building was beautiful, some friends from school helping out between classes until it got its feet under itself. Customers from your high school start up came by, new faces jumped in line, and before you knew it, you found people waiting outside our doors at 6 a.m., waiting to be let inside to get their breakfast pastries or pick up their orders early on. 

It was amazing. You were humbled, you were happy, you were keeping a roof over your own head and paying your hard working employees. 

Along with this though, you were stressed. 

Well, maybe more than stressed. “Overwhelmed” seemed like a better word to describe how you felt. 

Business was booming, and you had more orders in the works than you had ever imagined having. Recently you had put together the binder you were going through, making it easy for your bakers and yourself to stay on top of the orders that kept pouring in every day. Along with that, you had bought and installed more space and fridges for your kitchen, and now you were coming in much too early to prepare display case items. You worked your tail off in the morning, so your workers didn’t have to; they had enough on their plates.

Getting your stress out in a healthy way was something your therapist always pushed you towards, so you finally took his advice. You mixed together the cookie dough for the day in the big stand mixers, you kneaded dough for your bread and doughnuts by hand, every ounce of muscle you put in shedding a layer of stress from your shoulders. 

Evidently, your neighbors enjoyed your baking as much as you did, especially the sweet record store employees to your right. You dropped off extra goods when you could, but lately it’s been baskets, one dropped off right next to their cashier as soon as the doors were unlocked, and you were sure it was always a different variety of them every day; no matter the kind, you always made sure to attach a cute little note to each basket, thanking them for their work and reminding them of the discount they get at your store should they ever need their sweet tooth filled. 

On this day in particular you snuck out the back door as usual and dropped off your basket of goodies, the cashier being someone you hadn’t seen the last few days. He was blonde and had a pair of black glasses on, a light blue denim jacket and black t-shirt adorning his chest as you quickly dropped everything off and made it back to your shop. 

And somehow, within the few minutes you were gone, all hell had broken loose. 

“Darling,” your head baker and assistant manager said, immediately pulling you aside to chat. “There’s been….some accidents.” 

A sigh passed through your lips and you tugged up your hair into a ponytail, immediately jumping into fix-it mode. It took hours of your blood, sweat, and tears, but you finally settled in with a piping bag in your hand, very carefully fixing some of the accidents that had occurred. From the front entrance you would hear your bustling employees boxing and ringing up customers, the occasional bit of laughter filter through to your ears. 

Everybody was happy. And that was all that mattered to you. 

**

It was a much quieter time of the day when the bell dinged, your associates up front cheerily greeting the new customer while they cleaned up the display areas, a curious laugh escaping one of them as you set your piping bag down. Another hand cramp was taking over, and you needed a break. 

“Hey, Cupcake?” 

The familiar nickname from your front shop workers made you raise your head, meeting their eyes from the doorway that marked the end of the kitchen. 

You smiled at the young high schooler - Tilly - standing in the doorway, her warm smile being your response. “There’s someone up front asking for you.” 

You nodded and jumped up, happy to have a distraction from your sore hand. When you got closer to Tilly she dropped her volume considerably. 

“He’s cute, Cupcake, you need to get his number.” 

A chuckle escaped you as your cheeks turned pink, shaking your head at the well meaning associate and patting her shoulder. 

You were expecting a gentleman, maybe someone returning the basket from your record store deliveries. 

However, you weren’t expecting the cute man that came with it. 

It was the cashier from that morning, a basket in his hand and a beanie now pulled snugly over his head as a blonde fringe was pushed to the side. You hadn’t noticed in your rush earlier but his eyes were gorgeous, the most stunning mix of greens and blues that you had ever seen; that, combined with his seemingly nervous shifting, you were melting before you even spoke. 

“Hi,” you greeted, walking up to him with your signature warm smile. You had hair falling out of the ponytail, strands and baby hairs flying almost every which way as you did your best to tame them. “I’m Y/N, the owner of this little shop.” 

The man smiled in return, showing his teeth as he held out a hand, which you in turn took. “Hey,” he greeted just as warmly. “I’m Michael, I own the record shop next door.” 

“Oh, good to meet you, neighbor!” You said cheerily, knowing it was your own fault for not getting to know him sooner. Your eyes drifted to your basket, his pale and slender fingers seeming to drum a beat on the bits he was holding. “I see you got my gift this morning.”

Michael blushed, handing you the basket. “Yeah, we did,” he said kindly, letting you take it and place it on the front counter. Tilly almost immediately scooped it up, happy to bring it to the back and clean it - and gossip with the others about Michael, no doubt. 

The gentleman cleared his throat. “Uh, we really appreciate you bringing things by,” he thanked. “But, um, I just wanted to...I um-” 

He was flustered obviously, a pink tint on his cheeks as he met your eyes. “Sorry if this is awkward or an over-step, but I uh, I just notice that you bring us things when you’re really stressed, and we’re totally happy with it, but the baskets every day kind of...have me...worried.” 

The fact that a complete stranger can tell when you’re stressed, and took notice of your habits, made you blush, your hands connecting in front of you. Michael was full on blushing now, his cheeks more red than the light pink that they were. He had reached back to rub a hand on the back of his neck, a couple of cloth bracelets sitting on his wrist. 

“Um,” you stammered, also flustered but for different reasons. “You know...I have been kind of stressed lately.” 

The man’s eyebrows shot up, surprised that he was right as you chuckled lightly. “Um, we’ve had a boat load of orders just slam into us. Lots of different things, too, and this morning when we were taking some cakes out to finish them, a couple of them got dinged up and we’ve been fixing them all morning.” 

The way you were wringing your hands was probably more than enough evidence of your stress, the very thought of everything you had to complete filling you with a small amount of anxiety as you talked about it. However, Michael stood and nodded along, a reassuring look on his face as he leaned against a display case. He seemed like a great listener, something that made you smile.

“That does sound stressful,” he agreed, his hand shoving in his pocket while his other pulled out his phone. “I’m, uh, not sure it’ll help, but if you ever want to talk…” He turned his phone around a new contact information page pulled up as he sheepishly smiled. “Maybe we can go get coffee together and talk about it?”

You couldn’t hide the smile that tugged on your life, the nod following quickly after. “Yeah! Yeah, um, I’d love that,” you said, joy leaking into your tone as you took his phone and entered in your information. 

“Great! Cool,” Michael said, watching you type in your personal and work phone numbers so he can reach you through both. When he took his phone back you were both beaming. “I’ll, uh, call or text you, then, and we can set a date? I know the owner of the shop just down the road, so we can definitely go there.” 

You nodded, your beaming smile still on your face as you tucked some of the loose hair behind your ear. Michael matched your smile and thanked you for the goodies again, bumping into a couple of customers as they were entering because he was still looking at you. 

While another associate helped those customers, you quickly ducked into the back, Tilly and everybody else surprising you at the doorway, making you laugh. 

“Come on, everybody, my love life isn’t that exciting. Get back to work!” 

**

Michael sat in his office, leaning back in his chair as he thought about the interaction he just had with the cutest woman he’s ever met. His phone was in his hands with a blank text on it, the girl's name in the recipient line as he tried to figure out what to say. 

He wouldn’t ever say it was normal for him to be asking cute girls on dates like that; in fact, with most of his interactions with women, he was too nervous to make any sense, but somehow, that girl had given him a weird sense of confidence. 

Ultimately, he kept it simple, letting her know he was excited about the date and asking what times would work for her. Immediately after it sent he opened his group chat with his boys, letting them know he had some news. 

Immediately he had a response from Calum. 

So...meeting tonight?

Michael affirmed the text and then quickly put it away, getting through the work day while he texted the baker girl next door. When he finally got to lock up he couldn’t get to Cal’s fast enough, knocking on the café door rhythmically and beaming when his best friend opened the door. 

“Hey mate,” Cal greeted, letting him step inside before quickly pulling the door closed. Michael quickly went to their usual table, Duke lifting his head from his bed by the counter. 

“So,” Cal said, moving to the counter to make Mikey some tea. “What’s this big news announcement?” 

Michael chuckled and shook his head, watching from his seat at the table as Cal got to work. His friend groaned but respected the silence, the two warmly greeting Ashton and Luke as they showed up. 

Once they were all seated with their usual drinks and food the conversation flowed, everybody talking about work and swapping stories of difficult and amazing customers. Eventually, Calum repeated his question, Duke now settled in his lap as the dog napped. 

Michael chuckled and beamed. “Boys,” he said, watching them all focus on him. Luke leaned forward practically on the edge of his seat. “I have a real date. With a real girl.” 

Immediately the other three cheered, all of them congratulating their friend. 

“Who is it?” Ashton asked, grinning as he picked up his coffee. 

“That cute bakery girl,” Mikey explained. “The one with the shop by my store.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Luke said, leaning back against his chair as he brought his heads up, lacing them and leaning his head back against them. “You’ve been talking about her forever, man.” 

Michael reached over and shoved Luke’s shoulder, the blonde man grinning. “Fuck off,” he said, Luke sticking his tongue out before picking up his drink again. “I told her we could come here, to Cal’s, and she agreed. She’s free tomorrow so we’re gonna meet after she closes.”

The boys were all smiles, every single one of them ecstatic for their friend. The conversation continued to flow well into the evening after that, all of them reluctant to say their goodbyes. 

However, Michael went home with his phone buzzing, you and him talking about anything and everything; it was the most comfortable he’s been with someone since meeting the boys, the two of you clicking in a way that he just wasn’t used to. It made him very eager to get to know you, and very happy when you seemed to show the same feeling. 

When Michael finally noticed the time he sighed, knowing he should be responsible and go to bed. The two of you said your goodnights, a kissy face emoji attached to yours that made him blush before he turned over. 

On the other side of town, you were doing the same, quite content with how your day had ended. Despite the horrid start, you were very happy to have met Michael, and your stomach flipped whenever you thought of the date he had promised to take you on. No other person had ever made you feel that way, so you cherished it, knowing Michael was going to be the sweet boy you’d keep forever. 

Maybe this was the start of something that would last forever. 

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - Martha

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

word count: 3612

warnings: none

music: offspring - the kids aren’t alright, blink-182 - home is such a lonely place

Y/N was staring at him without realizing it. If only she knew how easy it was, she would be horrified. She would have goosebumps all the way from her pretty head to her little toes, and she would form a perfect line on her mouth as she clenched her teeth so hard it hurt her canines. The beauty of oblivion is that you’re… oblivious. He couldn’t really figure if the feeling of almost grasping, almost realizing, almost suffering, was good on her or not. He hoped he would find out soon enough to manage to fix her if anything. Just the way she’d fixed him.

Y/N’s been staring at Mal, whose last name, as she learnt from his file, which inevitable went through her, as she was the college filing dumpster, - Osbourne. How cool is that? his eyes said to her when she looked up to nod with amazement. Mal Osbourne, the IT guy at Whitmore. He joked that Hoppus was too rare, and Swayze made him feel sad, so he chose Osbourne. Turned out he changed his name when he got of age, because he hated his family or something like that. That was the only thing he was uneasy to talk about. Mal didn’t say what his family name was before, and she didn’t press. She was still torn between investigating and being painfully disinterested in other people’s drama.

Mal was biting his lower lip busily as he punched the vending machine again. The soda can got stuck in between the springs and the glass, and he turned, flustered, to give her a look. Y/N shook her head in empathy. They shared passion for Dr Pepper, and this one can has been stuck there for the whole morning. It being Wednesday, an official mid-day of the week when you’re already tired, but not tired enough to give up completely, they invented the watch. Every fifteen minutes one of them was visiting this very vending machine to see if the can has fallen through yet. She was replacing him now, and Mal welcomed her with a grunt.

“Can’t believe not a single person came and tried to get it out”.

“Maybe they know”, Y/N examined the lit insides of the machine. Dr Pepper was tightly propped against the glass, its dark red tin can dented a little.

“How the fuck did she even get in there…” Mal muttered under his breath. She could not believe this grown man’s dedication to a tin can. “I mean, what’s the story behind it? Why did you do this to me, Y/N? It’s almost two in the afternoon, and all I’ve been thinking about today is this goddamn Dr Pepper”.

She bumped her fist on the machine really hard, and somebody jumped while passing them. A couple of concerned glances shot at their backs.

“It moved!” he almost yelled. “Bang it, and I’m gonna shake it”.

So, they assaulted the vending machine, putting a stop to their patient watch that lasted for nearly five hours. Her hand was sore pretty soon, from the bumping, but as Mal leaned back and shook the monstrous machine, all the items came into movement. A couple of packs of crisps fell out of the slots.

“Bonus points!” Mal shrilled. Dr Pepper was almost out.

Y/N puffed.

“Now, you bang, and I’ll shake”.

“That’s what she said”, Mal replied knowingly, letting her swap places with him.

Their hard work paid off, and in couple of minutes they were running heads first into the basement, hands full of crisps and soda. And that was Wednesday.

Thursday was long and tedious, because a second year student has broken her leg AND lost the keys from her car all in the same evening, and she had a mental breakdown. The hospital seemed to have a problem finding her insurance, and the insurance company refused to pay for the services of the guys who came to open her car for her and accidentally took of one of the doors; Professor Atkins, teacher of chemistry which the girl was specializing in, refused to believe the whole story although t was blatantly true, in spite of being utterly stupid; Y/N was running like a remote control car with five wheels between the insurance office, hospital and college; at six in the evening she realized it was already the twenty-fifth of May, and she still didn’t have a plan for Caroline’s party. At six forty-five she was crying in her office, her head in her hands, but her tears were not tears of a defeated person. She was very angry and couldn’t scream so she just sobbed all the nonsense away. She really hated Thursdays in general, too.

At six fifty there was a knock on her door, and she moaned, sensing, rather like an animal, that her salvation and relief has come.

“Dude”, she howled. Mal’s head penetrated the space of her office.

“If I’d known you’re falling apart, I would’ve brought a gun, not a coffee”, he said in his ever joyful voice, full of undetectable mockery.

He slid into the armchair and watched Y/N as she grabbed the cup and started drinking.

“Don’t choke. You called me, m’fair lady? What’s up with the party I never heard of?”

She nodded.

“Exactly. I forgot about this party like four times. I need you to help me. You never seem to go home or have personal life, so”.

Mal pouted, as if admitting the heavy truth.

“IT sphere… you know, it’s a lot of work. All the buttons that don’t glow… and the websites that have been blocked… deleted reports”, he scowled, “are the worst. So much pain and suffering in this place, it’s unbearable. I crack every day, too”.

He looked at Y/N almost tenderly. These looks usually made her question her sanity. Sometimes it felt like he was Alex, the name, the tattoo on her right forearm in thick, black letters. She took two more big sips and decided solid that she’d tell Mal about him. Share that and see how he feels about that. Mal’s been nothing but great help these last weeks, and they bonded, and Y/N realized that part of her nervous strain was due to this new mysterious character, almost a time bomb, smirking at her kindly across the table they lunched at. But at least that was positive hysterical energy.

“I kind of accused you of lying about having a girl, Mal. Just now”.

He gasped. His ringed fingers interlocked together on his stomach. He put up his foot which indicated he was getting comfortable, as if to listen to a story.

“Ah. You meant that. That I can help you with the party you irresponsibly forgot about four times, because I don’t have anything better to do anyway, because I don’t have a girlfriend I’d claimed I had”.

She just nodded, sucking on her coffee like a thirst victim.

“That’s a… that’s a very sad story”, he scratched his right brow as his eyes shot somewhere above her ear, out of the window. He was daydreaming. His glance was calm, while his body started saying he was nervous.

“And you already seem pretty sad, so…”

“Go on. Distract me, please. And I’ll tell you a sad story, too. Let’s see who’s gonna kick ass in being sadder”.

Mal shuddered with a light burst of laughter. This, too. His sudden flashes of humor, when he laughed at things people usually don’t laugh at. And still, he was seemingly worth it.

“Okay. So, I dated this girl, Martha Hopps”.

“Martha Hoppus?”

He let out a clattering sound he made with his tongue that Y/N couldn’t understand the physics of.

“No, her last name is Hopps. She uh… moved to Mystic Falls. That’s kind of why I came here. I tried to land a job in the town, but nobody needed an IT specialist there, so I went for the closest place, which is”, he motioned towards Y/N as if suggesting her own office.

“You said, dated?”

“Yeah. But, I mean, I’m still in love with her. Obviously, otherwise, I wouldn’t be here”.

There was a change in Mal. Just as he started talking about the girl, his eyes went down, and Y/N couldn’t see the dark pupils anymore. His hands were rubbing each other, patting fingers, and he tilted his head. Y/N unintentionally felt her long-abandoned maternal instinct, kicking its way through her stomach like a crazed lion riding a tractor – for in front of her there sat a boy. His forehead was marked with three distinct, and somehow cute, sharp kisses of puberty; his skin was in need of sunlight, pale like milk, but soft; his boyish demeanor, the shirt with Van Halen logo, and a tacky bracelet on his left wrist – all that was a part of his pattern. He was suddenly fragile, like a petal.

“Her family… uh, they decided that I wasn’t worth her”, Mal looked up bravely, and Y/N withstood it.  

“They separated us. Even before I could actually… you know, lay off my plans for the future, marrying and stuff maybe, you know?”

“What do you mean – separated?”

“Well, they brainwashed her big time. Her family together with friends, they are all kind of… religious fanatics”.

“Wait, Hopps, you say? Mystic Falls is a small town, I think I would remember a family of fanatics…”

She shuddered at the memory of that insane coven that was raging in the town five years ago. She couldn’t actually remember how they dealt with them; only that those were first class supernatural terrorists, witches bound on idea to kill all ‘abominations’ and release humans of Mystic Falls…

Mal shrugged indifferently.

“They moved in recently. I followed them. We met in uh, Ohio, that’s where I come from. Her father was like, you’re toxic to her. We wish you were never born. Whoosh. Next thing I know, she doesn’t talk to me. At first it’s like, Mal, I question your beliefs. Then, Mal, I think you’re cheating on me. I’m like, who told you that? Stupid, you’re the woman of my whole century. She’s like, my family knows. She…” he sucked the air through his teeth, “I think she loved me less that I loved her, you know? Sometimes it happens. She had to choose, and she chose them. Plus, there was so much whispering along the way, Jesus. The things they were telling her about me”.

Y/N felt she was swaying while sitting in her chair.

“God, why would they do that? You’re so cute”.

“I know, right?!” he exclaimed, feeling the connection. “It’s a case of… I suppose… loathing out of principle. I did one…” he licked his lips, staring absently through her desk. His finger froze in the air indicating the number One. “Maybe two bad things, and they’re like, that’s it! You’re going down, we’re going away, you’ll never see her again”.

Caffeine started to kick in, and Y/N found herself fixing her hair in abrupt movements.

“Well? And then?”

“And then they cut us in two”.

They both paused for a moment.

“What two bad things did you do?”

Mal sighed.

“I mean, no one’s perfect, right?”

“Oh god”, Y/N slapped the surface of her desk as the poisonous realization started to crawl into her brain. “Oh god, please, no. Please, Mal, tell me you’re not an obsessive psycho who’s been stalking a girl and beating people and saw nothing wrong with it”.

“Oh my god”, his pretty face grimaced, “Jesus, Y/N, I meant I stole her dad’s car once, and then I lied about my age! What… what kind of people do you hang out with?”

She wondered if he was having fun inside. This man, this pretty picture, was ineffable. He seemed to be saying exactly the kinds of things she wanted to hear. People, a wise man once said, were way worse than monsters. Monsters, beasts of the night, have a purpose. They have a code. People, on the other hand, are completely crazy.

“But you do look like a… like there’s a little doorbell in your head that goes off constantly… like you kill pets for fun…”

Mal stood up, lifting himself with both hands.

“Screw you, Y/N”.

She jumped.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mal”, she ran around her desk, trying to catch him as he walked out of her office. She clutched the hem of his shirt and scratched the skin on his shoulder with her nails by accident. Mal hissed in pain, but stopped. She had that weird sensation again, like a light zip coming through her body when she touched him. It wasn’t painful, didn’t bother her, but it was curious. That happened for the second time already, but they’ve been contacting hand to hand for weeks now. Passing each other things, patting on the shoulder, shaking hands in sealing the deals about cans of sodas…

He looked at Y/N like she was betraying all the laws in the world. His eyes were beaming warnings, but deep inside, there was also this frail shade of cold that unnerved her way more. She couldn’t tell if she believed even a single word he said. The guy often acted like a sociopath. His sudden outbursts of laughter, his trust in her that was childish if not alarming, and these stories. And yet, she wouldn’t let go of his shirt, until he shrugged her hand of, though, thankfully, pretty gently.

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m making this all up”.

“That’s exactly what a manipulator would say”, she blurted, and grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt again, just in case. The knuckles of her fingers perceived the warmth of his body. “Prove she exists, and I’ll get on board with you, and I’ll do anything to help you get Marta Hoppus back”.

“Hopps”.

“Right”.

“Bringing you coffee was a mistake. Your eyes a rolling”.

Mal stepped away and took out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

“I meant to delete all, but I kept one picture of us, just in case”.

He stalled for a second before giving her the phone, like he was afraid to entrust her a treasure he’s been keeping. Y/N looked at the screen and saw Mal, smiling like he was a normal, happy guy, with a young girlfriend in his arms. He held her tight, with both arms. They took a picture in a big mirror, somewhere at a mall. She was kissing his cheek while managing to look in the mirror, too, and Y/N could see her face.

No, she’s never met that person, but the photograph was it.

“It was taken last year”, Mal said, as if reading her mind, “in Seattle. We were travelling”.

“I’m from Seattle”, Y/N said, absently.

She’s just realized she hadn’t been afraid Martha Hopps was not real; she had hoped for that.

“Dude”, she gave his phone back to him. Mal was watching her carefully. “If you love her, you have to fight. But I still can’t grasp the whole idea of them moving her from Ohio to… here”.

He scratched his head and gave the empty corridor a wandering look.

“Well, I’ve… you said yourself I’m a sophisticated guy…”

“I never said you were sophisticated, I said you’re weird”.

“Same thing. I may have a thing”.

“What thing?” she narrowed her eyes.

“I may have been diagnosed with ASPD back in the day”.

“I knew it!” her triumphant shriek was so sudden, Y/N dumbfounded herself a little.

“To be honest, I’m impressed you detected me in, like, twenty days”, Mal nodded, “people usually only see what the want to see”.

“I have a thing for serial killers”, she brushed it off with her hand, ignoring Mal’s fainting smile.

“Oh, Y/N, why does it always have to be that extreme with you. This guy never killed anybody, ever, in his life”.

“What will you do with her family when you get to her?”

Mal shrugged.

“I already got to her. I found her. I guess now you can call me a stalker. I don’t do creepy stuff”, he added, before she could open her mouth, “but she still doesn’t know her ex-boyfriend is here. Wanting to get her back very much. I don’t know. What would you do to people who took away the love of your life from you? Deceiving you both in the process?”

Mal was the kind of person you could tell practically anything. The man could take a joke and keep a secret. Now, though, as she started seeing him as a person with pretence instead feelings, that was all presented in slightly different light. Him being friendly to everybody, charming people the second he saw them, was his mechanism of infiltrating the community. Him sticking with Y/N and befriending her at first sight may have been his method of imitating social life and learn to cope. Even use her, maybe. He’s been living here for some time, with virtually no interest for the place itself, with the sole reason to be close to Martha Hopps; and he treated the whole IT thing like a joke. He was indisputably good at what he was doing; Y/N could see him run across these halls all day long, without a tired sigh; but this perfection in his performance was what must make one suspicious. He always ate at the same time, every day, and understood every joke and said all the right things.

The look he was giving her said cold. His brain was derived of emotion, and to think that this person could be loving someone was close to fantasizing. Y/N recalled the boy in her armchair, minutes earlier, hurt by the memories.

“I would tear them apart”, Y/N said. “If somebody took away the thing I love the most, I would tear them apart, limb from limb. But they’re her family, Mal”.

“So?”

“So, there are, you know, types of people to kill…”

His eyes narrowed.

“Wait. You’re talking seriously now? About tearing them apart?”

“God, well, I’m telling you the one hundred percent. Of course, in reality, you do less. But anyway, there are different types of close people. You can get away with separating your loved one from one type, but not from another”.

“I don’t get it”.

They started walking slowly down the corridor. Y/N couldn’t really tell where they’re going until she saw a vending machine prepped against the wall, and noticed Mal slide his hand into his pocket. He was hungry again.

“Say, you come to their house where they live now, and you choke them all. Theoretically. You don’t really have a right to choke people”.

“I know that, Y/N. I’m a bit sociopathic, much better than I used to be, by the way. It’s far from spree killing”.

“Yes, well, and what then? Where do you go from there? She may still love you, say, you talk everything out, and she realized that they had tricked her into breaking up with you. But even if you move on, go to another state, buy a house and live there, get married. You’ll always be the guy who killed her family”.

He stood at the machine, looking at the rows of packs. His face was highlighted by the pale light from the inside of the glass. Outside, the sky took on an orange shade of the closing sunset. She won’t get to it once again.

“And you think that’s fair. That you should just let it slide, all the things they out of hatred. You know, I’ve had a lot of that when I was a kid. I was always the bad child in the family”.

He put the coin in and pushed a button. Y/N couldn’t even watch the string spinning slowly, she was focused on Mal and what he does next. The cold shiver of realization went through her body. If he’s violent; if he’s aggressive; if he’s pretending to be her friend, all this trauma right now may make him act out. And Damon just won’t manage to run in here on time. She didn’t even have a pencil with her in case she had to protect herself. Y/N looked at his hands, lean, strong and pale, fingers, long and dexterous. Mal always touched and held things sturdily, to make sure they won’t escape his grasp. He never dropped anything and never made mistakes.

“You? You’re the bad child?”

“Uh-huh, I had this sister, she wa- she’s my twin. I say ‘was’ usually, because I haven’t spoken to her in years. She was better at everything. Better at school, at doing the chores, at turning on the TV, talking to people, understanding things. Feeling things. She was the good one, and I was always the defective brother”.

“Don’t say that”, Y/N snapped. Mal looked at her, surprised, and then squatted a little to get his pack of chips out.

“You know they were wrong, right? You’re a big guy now, you’re an adult. You must understand why adults do all that. You’re spared of fear they must have experienced”.

“That’s a good point. But it doesn’t help to know that. I still have hard time dealing with… crazy families. We’re going to the basement?”

“Why?”

“I have my speakers there, and we can make a playlist”.

“Right”.

Walking past the windows, they looked outside, at the orange sky.

“Tomorrow’s gonna rain”, Mal said. He tore the pack open with a loud rustling. “You want some?”

Y/N looked inside.

“I’m gonna puke if I put anything else in my mouth today”.

“That’s what she said”, Mal commented gravely.

[hollyhomburg]

Call me Yours (Pt.1)

(Ot7 x Reader) (Hybrid au!) (Blind! Reader) 

(Sequel to Dance to this )

Summary: You never would have imagined that more love was hidden right next door, just over your garden fence. 

Pairings: (Human! Hoseok) x (Human! reader) x (Wolf hybrid! Namjoon) x (Dog hybrid! Seokjin) x (Cat hybrid! Yoongi) x (Tiger hybrid! Taehyung) x (Bunny hybrid! Jungkook) x (Cat hybrid! Jimin) 

Tags: established relationship, Polyamory, gratuitous fluff, there is very little angst in this chapter. 

W/c: 4.0k

- It starts with the bird feeder, 

- Or as Seokjin affectionately calls it ‘Yoongi TV’ or when Yoongi is being especially cute “Kitten TV” which makes him pout and grumble something about Seokjin being about as entertaining as a sea cucumber in a jellyfish exhibit. And makes Namjoon send Yoongi that little half smirk smile- so full of the wolf hybrid’s honeyed dimples that Yoongi just… sort of combusts.

- For being a bird feeder, the birdfeeder is exceptionally bad at feeding the birds and not the brown squirrels and little white striped chipmunks that gather and eat not only the seeds but also Namjoon’s very special heritage breed tomatoes.

- That doesn’t mean that Yoongi doesn’t sit by the door and watch it, making sure to chase them off with a “yah! Get away” and an open door to shout at them periodically. No matter what time of day it is, or if Seokjin is recording an episode of eat Jin, a Q&A, or an apparel announcement.

- His viewers of course make compellations of Seokjin sighing dramatically, yelling at Yoongi, and screaming back “brat! Would it kill you to be quiet?”

- No matter how much the squirrels and chipmunks eat- none of you can ever bring it in yourself to put out a trap or even some poison to get rid of the critters.

- You’ll always laugh; after all, you think it’s adorable when Yoongi’s tail goes all bottlebrush and swishes back and forth sometimes swatting your across the legs or side. In the past year, he’s gotten comfortable enough with you to consent to you wrapping a hand around his tail and stroking it a little before you let it flick out of your grip.  

- The Yoongi before would never dare to admit he liked cuddles. And now? now your morning ritual was for Yoongi to lean his head on your lap, though he does do the same to Namjoon and Seokjin- really it depends on who’s going to be the most likely to give him coffee with extra extra cream on that day. And you’re weak for Yoongi’s purrs. And the nudge of his nose against your hand as he mumbles. “So tired, need so much coffee”

- “Stop being cute” Seokjin will complain when Yoongi lines himself all snuggly along the line of your back in the morning, pouting into the thick fluff of your sweatshirt (the white one with cat ears that Yoongi had demanded you buy a few months ago when it was still cold enough that it was necessary) “I swear I’m not doing anything,”

- Even though that particular type of affection isn’t anything strange in this house- it is a little new for Yoongi, and the three of you are nothing if not respectful of his boundaries. 

- You’re happy with the little kisses he gives you in the stolen moments of the day, when you find yourself spooning Yoongi while you take a break from work, playing with his hands and talking to him about the music he plays on the little radio in the corner of the upstairs bedroom. 

- (The same one that he got the first month here, dragged out of the garbage somewhere, listening to the radio and dancing at 3 am when both of you can’t sleep. a Half asleep Seokjin and Namjoon knocking into each other when they stumble upstairs half asleep to ask after your absence in your bed downstairs. 

- You and Yoongi high on sugar screaming “I love this song!!!” Namjoon and Seokjin happily watching from the door, feeling like every last piece of their family was falling into place)

- They were wrong, there are 4 more pieces waiting to fall into place. you’d never imagined that love was waiting on the other side of the garden fence, the same fence that namjoon grew roses up. Meticulously strapped them to the trellis, the blossoms sweet smelling and soft against fingertips. 

- Yoongi might be a little bit emotionally constipated, but he does show you he loves you, even if he has trouble saying it. God knows you all show him you love him often enough. 

- Namjoon and Yoongi sitting in that same bed with his headphone splitter, and the cellphone that you’d bought Yoongi and he’d quickly filled up with music, Namjoon lets him talk a mile a minute about music for hours, Namjoon would let Yoongi talk forever if it made him look so happy. 

- They lie on the upstairs bed, the stereo droning in the corner, Namjoon on his stomach and Yoongi propped against the wall. The line of Yoongi’s thigh lined with Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon’s chin propped up on one hand, watching and listening to Yoongi’s deep gravel of a voice, tail wagging happily behind him. 

- Namjoon eventually falls asleep ( he always does- even if he genuinely loves to listen to Yoongi- the bed is still very very comfortable and warm in the late spring chilliness. he awakes half from sleep, feel the comb of Yoongi’s hands through his hair and smell the cat hybrids spiced wine scent. like sun-dried fruit and cloves Namjoon’s head pressed to Yoongi’s hip.

- Seokjin and Yoongi- sitting on the back stoop late at night, passing a can of whipped cream between the two of them, the elder gets so punch drunk tired that holds the can a little too far away and misses his own mouth. 

- The two of them staring at the line of whipped cream on Seokjin’s cheek before laughter bursts like flowers in their chests. Yoongi’s shoulders shaking, tipping into Seokjin who is steady and warm. 

- “How the fuck?” Yoongi yowling with laughter. Grinning, full gums on display, tilting Seokjin’s cheek to lick it off of him. Seokjin’s blush as Yoongi’s rough tongue hits the corner of his mouth. Cuddled up a little closer than they’d been the day before. Always a little bit closer, day after day. 

- The actually “I love you’s” are slow in coming, but Yoongi gets there eventually. 

-  One night, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands as he watches Yoongi bat at a moth that hovers on the lamp Eyebrows furrowed. “oh” he says, the words startling out of him “okay, I’m a little bit in love with you, you know?” 

- And Yoongi’s response, a snort, “only a little bit? I think I can do better than that.” 

- The next morning, you wake early, Seokjin and Namjoon still wrapped in each other in your bedroom. you’re a little surprised to find Yoongi up so early, or out of bed (you’d gifted him a heated blanket for Christmas and he’d barely crawled out from under in the entire winter- but it was no longer needed with the oncoming spring. 

- “Morning” Yoongi’s grumble. “coffee?” you wonder. A noise by where the maker is in affirmative, you stumble over, tipping against him and falling a little. after a moment, a back hug, your morning ritual though usually- it’s him doing it to you. 

- Yoongi shivering happily. Your forehead nuzzling the one spot he can’t reach in the center of his back. Enjoying the feeling a moment before he says “want to help me do the crossword while we wait for the others to wake?” 

- “3 words, 7 letters,” “oh that’s easy- ‘I love you’ right?” Yoongi stills, then you can feel him nod. You reach out to feel the newspaper and find it’s not a newspaper at all, but a print out crossword. “oh” you say. Yoongi nuzzles into your shoulder, nose prodding along the length of your neck.  And he doesn’t have to say anything more than that.  

- A  playlist full of love songs downloaded mysteriously onto Namjoon’s Spotify account, lovesong after lovesong he scrolls through, out in front of your home, ready to start his run for the day. Every single one that Yoongi had ever mentioned to Namjoon or said that he likes. Nearly 100 of them. 

- Namjoon tumbling into Yoongi’s room upstairs. “ew you smell” Yoongi said, pushing Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon huffing a laugh, “I didn’t even run that far! shut up and let me kiss you before I shower” 

- You’re respectful of his boundaries, Even when he purposefully wears the old shirt of yours that is basically a crop top, or licks food off of Seokjin’s spoon seductively, scent marks you copiously while maintaining eye contact with anyone who looks, or that pout that makes all of Namjoon kind of melt.

- Seokjin swears half of their flirting is just longing looks made across your living room and sharing a pair of headphones. he tells them this, often and vocally, to which yoongi just rolls his eyes, but the little smirk on his lips tell seokjin that he knows what he’s doing. Yoongi is such a tease.

- “Yoongi- stop chasing the squirrels and sit for dinner” Seokjin complains one afternoon, but you just touch his hand where it rests on your shoulder, “let him has his fun.” Seokjin deposits a kiss onto your forehead after sighing, lamenting the loss of what will surely be cold asparagus.  

- while Namjoon looks after Yoongi, Namjoon’s tail swishing back and forth, looking to see if they’re eating any tomatoes, ready to pounce alongside him until Seokjin flicks both of them on the shoulders. “Eat. Before it gets cold.” 

- It’s hard to ignore the commands of the Alpha of the house. 

- But Yoongi isn’t the only one who likes to watch the birdfeeder. The first time he notices him, it’s because of the small tinkling laugh when he pounces after one of the squirrels, which quickly skitters through a hole on the other side of the fence, yowling before he hears the other person move to pounce on it too, then the laugh, Before the presence disappears. Leaving Yoongi to do little more than wonder. 

- The next time isn’t so kind however.

- “They’re someone sitting on the fence! On our fence! A cat hybrid!” Yoongi shouts as he dashes into your living room one day, about a month after he’s officially consented to being your hybrid. The id bracelet with your address and Yoongi’s name jingles on his wrist. 

- On your lap, Namjoon shifts, sitting up, regretfully moving from your position of afternoon pets, where he’d been camped out on your lap while you typed up a new proposal. Telling you when you’d misspelled a word or the dictation software had malfunctioned. From his vantage point, he can easily see your computer screen. And you’d rewarded him with a scratch over his ear every time he’d caught a mistake. 

- “Did you bother to ask their name?” Seokjin’s asks from where he stands in the kitchen trying to settle on something to make for dinner, ingredients and printed out recipes cover every surface. 

- Yoongi’s tail flicks in annoyance, “No!” Yoongi pouts, “they’re trespassing” he hisses, indignant that Seokjin would be anything other but outraged with this. But still managing to look abashed at Seokjin’s scolding tone, Seokjin smirks- Yoongi looks like a ruffled up kitten when he gets like this. 

- Yoongi side eye’s Namjoon, looking for backup, “they where playing with Namjoon’s vines.” Namjoon stands abruptly almost knocking over the ottoman as he almost trips over it. “They could be eating our tomatoes!” Namjoon follows Yoongi, who looks validated as they both dash back out to the garden. 

- You laugh, while Seokjin sighs, and reaches out his hand to help you up from the couch. Pulling you in close to press his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss before you head out into the garden after them. 

- The hybrid is still sitting on the high fence, not paying any attention to Yoongi or Namjoon shouting at him from the yard. The fence is only 6 feet high, and yet the calico hybrid manages to look snooty and above the display of aggression in more way’s then one. 

- His tail waving lazily from size to side as he inspects his nails and licks at his palm, Studiously ignoring both of them- though it’s mostly Yoongi doing the shouting. 

- Namjoon’s ears are quirked back then forward, his tail stilling before it starts to wave back and forth happily a little. After a moment of looking at the calico, a faint blush creeping ups the back of his neck. Yoongi doesn’t see- too focused on making the rippling hiss that fills the garden as threatening as possible, the hair on the back of his neck sticking up his tail puffed. 

- The calico is not impressed. 

- Seokjin sidles up behind Namjoon and squeezes the back of his neck affectionately. Holding your hand in the other. Though he knows he could let go if he wanted, you know the garden so well at this point there is very little risk of you tripping. Ever since last month he’s been a little bit clingier to you even inside the house. 

- He still blushes when he thinks about it- it wasn’t exactly his first rut, but he’d never expected to really have one again (since they were triggered by a hybrid in heat and obviously neither you nor Namjoon’s had a heat).  

- There is the sound of a weird sort of walking, is that hopping? To the divider between your neighbors. The rounded tops of brown ears appear over the edge of the fence. “Hyung? I don’t think you should sit there…” A soft voice says from the other side of the fence.

- It startles both Namjoon and Yoongi from their growling, as a look of understanding dawns on Namjoon’s face. “Oh, I remember you- you’re Jungkook right? The bunny hybrid?” Namjoon says through the fence. Though he can’t actually see the bunny hybrid. 

- Any interaction with the bunny hybrid that lives next door has been sporadic at best and only through the fence. Namjoon has never actually been introduced to him; only exchanged brief ‘hello’s’ and ‘isn’t the pollen bad today?’ through the fence after he’d heard Namjoon sneeze. 

- Seokjin has never met the hybrid before- only heard Namjoon mention him over the years vaguely after dinnertime or offhand. “Yeah! That’s me!”  

- From the other side of the fence, a voice shouts. “Jimin! Get down from the top of the fence before you fall!- no- Taehyung!- don’t bite at my shirt! I’m not going anywhere I’m just-” an overwhelmed goran, the voice comes closer, the four of you waiting on your side of the fence. 

- The voice is low, gentle but cautionary in tone. “Jimin” a warning, the blond calico hybrid looks down at his owner from the opposite side, scoffing, before licking his palm one more time, and climbing down from the fence. 

- That voice loses it’s leashed anger, turning happy “I’m sorry about him, he didn’t mean any harm he’s just exploring his new territory!” comes the happy voice from the other side of the fence. 

- A loud purring resonates as well as a chirp in response, not from Yoongi who’s still looking puffed up and territorial, watching the shadow of movement through the gaps in the fence like he might pounce at them. 

- Standing a little behind Namjoon who fusses with the rose bush absent-mindedly tucking the green new growth back on the trellis.  “It’s fine! He wasn’t doing anything harmful” you respond, “he just surprised my hybrids is all.” Yoongi does chirp unhappily at your words but Seokjin sends him withering look, Namjoon huddles to your side and whines. 

- “We’ve never met before neighbor! It’s nice to meet you! Sorry if my hybrid antagonized yours- I swear he didn’t mean It.” says the happy voice from the other side of the fence again. 

- “Invite them over for lemonade” Namjoon murmurs into Seokjin’s ear while Yoongi hisses at the suggestion, “absolutely not! I am not having another cat over here.” the raise of your eyebrow makes Yoongi’s tail twitch, but he stands down, rolling his eyes and gritting out a “fine! I’ll have you know I just rolled my eyes at you.” “noted,” you say, turning back to the fence again. 

- “it’s okay- my cat hybrid and my dog hybrid where just worried that he was going to eat our tomatoes!” 

- “Oh Jimin’s harmless- he’s a recent adoptee and was just getting the lay of the land. ” the silence hovers awkwardly, Namjoon shifts from foot to foot restlessly.

- Seokjin brushes a comforting hand down his back, pressing a small kiss to the over egger Namjoon’s cheek to calm him down a little, sighing- he’d kind of been looking forward to a quiet late summer night, but Namjoon is curiously eyeing the other side of the fence, and you look interested too. 

- “You can invite them” he whispers,  “I’ll get the lemonade and some cookies.” 

- “Uhm…” you murmur a little subdued, playing with Seokjin’s hand nervously. “Would you like to meet properly? We have some lemonade and snacks if you’re interested in coming over?” 

- You’re not exactly sure how it happens, but soon after Namjoon is going over to the fence on the side of your house- opening it up so that Hoseok can slip through the side, he holds it open for his two hybrids. 

- He’s surprisingly lithe for the deep voice that accompanies him, though maybe it’s just that Namjoon is incredibly tall and broad comparatively. He looks like a kind human, his eyes wide and the deep kind of brown that is reminiscent of the night sky. 

- Hoseok smells like an office building- like printer ink and warm paper, even though he’s wearing a grey shirt with a coffee stain near the hem that is obviously meant for lazy days. Namjoon tries not to be judgemental as he himself is wearing a faded green shirt that has a hole in the sleeve where it snagged on his roses a few weeks ago. 

- Namjoon gives him a closed lip smile. Trying not to look threatening to the admittedly massive bunny hybrid that attempts to hide behind Hoseok’s shoulder. Curly brown hair shadowing the impossibly wide eyes. Prey type hybrids are always a little bit shy around predator type hybrids and jungkook isn’t any different. 

- His brown ears pinned are back to his shoulders, Namjoon can barely see the baby pink centers. “Are you sure it’s okay hyung?” The small voice says, Namjoon has his back turned, a few paces ahead of them as he leads them around the side of the house into your yard but he still hears all the same.

- “Yes kooky and besides, haven’t you wanted to meet Namjoon since forever?” Hoseok whispers, nudging Jungkook with his shoulder. Of course, the bunny hybrids interactions with Namjoon have always been through the fence, and sporadic. Namjoon has never scene his face before but honestly, it’s a wonder that Jungkook isn’t more afraid of him. 

- His nose twitches cutely and Namjoon has to hold his tail to keep it from wagging excitedly. The calico hybrid behind both of them crosses his arms and huffs. Slitted green eyes watching Namjoon with the air of someone who is not impressed. Jimin rolls his eyes when Hoseok says, “oh wow! Your garden is amazing!”  

- Namjoon grins shyly, wonders what they’ve gotten themselves into, but is honest in his bashfulness nonetheless, “thank you! I try to work on it every day, but since I’ve started working at the community garden it’s been harder and harder to keep up with it!” 

- “Wow, you work? I’ve never heard of a hybrid working!” Jungkook compliments. Then gives a little yelp, he turns to Jimin, pouting even as the cat grins showing his teeth that seem a little sharper than seems human. “Don’t pull on my tail Jiminie,” he pouts. 

- Jimin grins, his eyes green slits, “how could I not? Your your tail was twitching like a lovesick bunny” the cat hybrids voice is low and accented, his words making Kooky go a bright red. Namjoon wonders where he’d been adopted from- if his words sound the way the do. 

- Namjoon blushes a little, and elects to ignore Jimin’s words, “Um…My job is mostly volunteer actually? But they do give me a lot of the plants especially when they grow too large and reproduce and we have to separate them.”

- The two grasses at either side of your porch are representative of that, as well as the dozens of small clay pots that hold the little sprouts that he’d harvested from the community garden- there are a few small cherry blossom trees that Namjoon has been trying to bonsai for the last half a year. Seokjin had signed him up for classes as a present for his last birthday. 

- Jimin goes over and swats at the grasses idly, nosing along the line of the fuzzy cattails. A surprised little purr echo’s and fills the garden. On your small deck above Jimin, Yoongi scoffs and glares at the blatant scenting of his territory. 

- Namjoon had initially planted those grasses for Yoongi, and had blushed every time Yoongi went out to swat at them and scent them, but that was another story entirely. 

- Namjoon continues to give Jungkook a little tour of his garden, the bunny hybrid opening up surprisingly quickly, his curiosity endless, the ears slowly rising throughout the conversation to stand perked up, directed at Namjoon with nothing but interest. His little cotton tail never stops it’s excited little twitching. 

- Hoseok smiles at them, glad that they’re warming up to each other nicely, and then catches you sitting at the table on the porch and ascends the stairs. 

- You stand when you feel his feet on the edge of the steps, the reverberating noise and vibration. “You must be Hoseok! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” Yoongi watches the other cat, eye’s narrowing, and does not introduce himself to Hoseok yet. 

- Oh crap, Hoseok’s heart gives a nervous thud. Caught off guard as you slide your soft hand into his and smile at him. Hoseok definitely was not expecting someone his own age, let alone you or your flowy soft looking tunic and simple leggings that showed your figure. 

- Hoseok is no stranger to members of the opposite sex, but his work is so busy that he doesn’t often have the chance to meet anyone- and you’re- you’re painfully cute with the way your bangs stick out from your messy bun, framing your face, making Hoseok stutter when his heart registers how cute you are. 

- You hold your hand out in anticipation of Hoseok’s shake and the hand that meets yours is surprisingly large and Vigny. Yet somehow soft. “Y-you have a lovely home! Your garden is amazing.” Oh, his voice is really nice. deep and kind of resonant. 

- “Thank you- though really you should compliment Namjoon since he’s the one who does most of the work on it. My other hybrid, Seokjin, is just getting us some snacks, and some lemonade.” You offer Hoseok a seat at the table and he takes a seat across from you. 

- “Thank you for your hospitality, lemonade sounds lovely.” Hoseok says, the silence devolving a little into awkwardness until Seokjin appears, holding a stack of plastic cups and a jug of said lemonade. Seokjin and Hoseok are introduced with a handshake and a polite smile. 

- You make to stand up and pour your guest a glass of lemonade, The same second that Jungkook bounds over to grab a cup, his legs excited, propelling him a little uncontrollably, crashing into you in his excitement. Yoongi is turning, a cautionary word trapped in his throat spoken too late as you narrowly avoiding being knocked over by the overly excited bunny. 

- Sudden unfamiliar hands on you, wide and soft but unfamiliar,  as he reaches over your side- making you flinch and stumble sideways, the plastic cups landing on the deck with a clatter. Seokjin narrowly catches you before you fall. 

- Seokjin reacts instinctively, the low growl threatening and rippling. Jungkook looks up, eyes wide at the unfamiliar predator hybrid. 

- As expected- everyone freezes. 

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Four (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 4.3k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It took a little longer to get out of bed this morning, like it had on the train. Finnick sat next to you the entire time while you explained over the nausea. You told him your theory that it’s because you’re stuffing yourself, because it’s logical. All he did was continue to brush your hair out of your face and suggested not to eat as much.

Which was the thing. You ate a light breakfast, stayed hydrated throughout the day. Then you ate healthy snacks while you were getting ready for the parade. And then once again, when you got into the apartment, you ate slowly and tried not to shovel it in too quickly.

Normally you eat as quickly as possible because you won’t fill up as quickly. If you’re taking your time, then of course you’re going to be full faster. And you didn’t even eat that much last night either. You thought it would give you a stomach ache right after eating, but there you were, the morning after.

When you had gotten up, you then noticed a pain in your achilles on your feet.

There’s blisters lining the back of your feet because of the heels that you were forced to wear during the tribute parade. Laurel knew what she was doing when she gave those massive shoes to you, and you have to give her props. Her revenge was silent, but lasting. You’ll have these for a little while.

Unfortunately for her, you know a couple of ways to keep them from getting worse. The first thing you did at brunch–since you and Finnick had gotten up a little later than expected–was complain to Elysia and Mags until they told you to shut up. Elysia told you she would find some healing cream for you to use. But in the meantime, you would just have to deal with it.

To not make them worse, you’ve decided against shoes today. You’ll still be wearing the training outfits that are provided. You had a choice when it came to a top, a sports bra, a tank top and a full-sleeved shirt. You decided for the sports bra, since it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you thought. Plus, the leggings they’ve provided are high-waisted on you. You’re not showing as much skin as you thought you would.

Finnick didn’t really have a chance when it came to what to wear. He slid on his sleeveless tank top and the leggings that he was provided. It was either sleeveless or full-sleeved. Leave it to your husband to show off all the muscle.

After you guys were dressed–opting for a shower after training–you and him said your goodbyes to Elysia and Mags. You two will see them at dinner, but not in-between. They’re sponsor hunting, they’re going to start tying down people.

As you and Finnick head down the hallway, hand-in-hand, he starts to head for the elevator. He knows the plan for today, this is just to throw off anyone that might be watching.

“Let’s take the stairs today,” you tell him, letting go of his hand as you bounce around in the hallway giddily, it’s all an act, “As a warm-up. We can’t just go in there without stretching first.”

“We’re going down the stairs, not up,” he says, but there’s a smile hinting at his face.

“All the same to me!” You smile at him.

You go to grab the door first, but Finnick isn’t having it. He practically pushes you out of the way so he can get there first. All so he can open the door for you, what a dork.

“Thank you.” you chirp, skipping into the stairwell, he follows you in, and even makes a point to pull the door shut entirely.

At the bottom of the staircase is Haymitch, staring up at you guys. You motion for him to go up the couple of steps to where you are. This is mainly to get away from the door, there’s two peacekeepers out there. If they hear anything, they are going to report it. The smart thing to do is get away from the door, and stay quiet.

“I came down the stairs.” he tells you two, “They don’t know I’m in here.”

“Same as us.” Finnick nods.

You lean up against the wall, fanning your face since the humidity in the stairwell isn’t the best. It’s making you feel like you’re overheating, like heat stroke, which you’ve had before in the summertime from being on the boats for too long. The only problem is, you haven’t gone outside since yesterday during the parade. These next few days, you’re going to be inside.

Almost as if Finnick knows that something is up, he wraps an arm around your waist. If you fall, he’ll keep you from collapsing against the cement. Although, being pressed up against his body is making all of this worse. You don’t complain though, you’d rather have his arm around you than not. It’s a safety net.

“Katniss is stand-offish.” Haymitch begins, and you can’t help but snort. Neither of you interrupt him though, “She’s difficult to work with at first, but the more you talk to her, the easier she’ll be.”

“But why?” you ask, “We don’t mind being in an alliance with her, but what’s your motive of making one for her?”

He lowers his voice considerably, “A rebellion.”

You and Finnick share a look, and just right there is enough communication. He gives you a look of ‘this is happening’ and you tell him ‘our time is now’. Just in that one little look, an understanding has passed through you two.

“We’re in.” Finnick says for the both of you, shocking Haymitch, “What will it take?”

Haymitch is shocked, “That’s… it?”

You tilt your head, “The districts are going nuts right now. Just at the mention of it, four goes wild. Now’s the time to do it. What do we have to do to help?”

And just like that, Haymitch launches into his explanation. Starting from the beginning, and how the berries had angered Snow. Katniss and Peeta’s families were on the line, and so they were trying to do everything they could to quiet down the districts. Including a marriage to appease the Capitol to prove that the action was done out of love, rather than resistance.

Haymitch tells you that there’s talk about it everywhere, and people are looking at her. He believes that she can be the face of it. She can get people moving behind her, but a few things need to happen first.

She needs to stay alive. An alliance acts in her best interest, but since she’s stubborn, she won’t be making it by herself. She might suggest a few people that she might like, but other than that, it’s one thing or nothing. The worst thing about it, is that Katniss can’t know that any of this is going on.

Haymitch is supposed to be ‘saving’ Peeta, and not her. Since she was ‘saved’ the first time around, she wants it to be Peeta’s turn. But Peeta doesn’t like that, and he’s already acting with Haymitch to make it look like they’re working in Katniss’s favor. It’s unnecessarily complicated, and you’re not too interested in that.

To boil it down, you and Finnick will spread the word a little bit, bring in people that might find this to be a good idea. Keep it from the careers because they can be difficult. They love the Capitol because they spoil them. So, telling them would result in the destruction of the plan.

Katniss can’t know that any of this is happening. You have to pretend that none of this is happening. Haymitch will give Finnick a bracelet as solidarity with you guys, since you’re going to be the main part of the protection. You’ll show it to Katniss inside of the arena, and just like that, hopefully she’ll put the puzzle pieces together and allow you to help her.

The last part of the plan is keep her alive long enough for them to take her out and take them to District Thirteen. You called Haymitch a lunatic, because everyone knows what happened to thirteen for being rebellious. If they’re still thriving, then you guys would have seen them by now. But all he had to do was tell you that they have a gamemaker in on it already.

That was convincing enough. If a gamemaker is in on this, the plan will be much easier. They have more insight than you guys do. Haymitch can be unreliable, but you asked if he’s sure that Plutarch is trustable, and he told you yes.

After that, you split. Haymitch went back upstairs to get his tributes, and you and Finnick left the stairwell together, hand in hand. You made a comment while passing the peacekeepers about being tired, telling Finnick that you didn’t sleep well last night, and you hope that you’ll wake up more as time goes on.

It wasn’t until you entered the actual building, when you started to feel better. The entire building has AC like you wouldn’t believe. It was only a couple of minutes before you completely forgot about it entirely.

You and Finnick spend a moment, finding people and choosing wisely. Unsurprisingly, he wants to have a chat with Johanna, and you decide that you might as well see Cecelia again. Her and Woof are sticking together it seems, they’re sitting around the bug station.

That’s a good thing to touch up on. The dangers that might be hiding around inside of the arena. There’s so many possibilities and dangers that the arena holds, that it just makes you overwhelmed.

First, it’s fish, and the type that live in the fresh water, or salt water. Next are the types of leaves, is it ivy or not. The trees, do they burn smoke easily? The berries and the chance that they’re poisonous. And this is all to be paired with not having the food, or the iodine to make the water safe. Not being able to skin rabbits and cook it properly so you don’t get sick.

Finnick taught you CPR one of the times on the train while you were teaching tributes before all of this–of course. That goes right along with first aid. You’ve gone as far as to recreate the creams to show the tributes which ones mean which. What’s healing, what’s supposed to be used on your weapon, and so on. You teach them how to stitch, and create stents and the list goes on.

It’s so simple to overlook something like bugs. When you’re so worried about literally everything else.

Cecelia offers you a big smile when you sit beside her. Watching as she and Woof easily identify the types of bugs. You keep the conversation light, and then you begin to enter in the keywords.

“How would you feel about an alliance?” you ask, she looks up, “This can go for you and Woof.”

Woof smiles, but Cecelia looks a little confused, probably wondering what’s bringing this all on. You almost can’t believe that she thinks that you wouldn’t invite her into an alliance with you and Finnick. She’s practically your best friend, for her not to be in it would be stupid.

“Sure, is Finnick fine with this?” she asks, going back to the bug game.

“Actually, a few of us are okay with this.” it’s a hint that there’s more than one of you, “it’s sort of a protection plan.”

Cecelia nods, thinking about this. You hope that she’s smart enough to get this. She’s raised three kids that have spoken in cryptic ways when they’re toddlers. It can’t be that hard to decipher the double meaning in words. You had to go through this all with Alyssum.

“Behalf?” she asks subtly.

“Katniss.” you tell her, “Girl on fire, it’s quite a brand isn’t it? It’s almost like she’s trying to set the Capitol ablaze.”

Her eyes flicker to yours the same time that Woof does, “Is that so?”

“You don’t think so?” you’re hoping that isn’t a no.

You watch as Cecelia’s face slowly holds a smile, “I do think so. Count me in.”

“Me too.” Woof tells you.

“More info to come.” you mouth quietly, and they nod slightly, “Nice seeing you guys again.”

Deciding that visiting two people is enough, you go ahead and head over to one of the knife throwing stations. As you get closer, you can see that they have projections now, it’s not just dummies anymore. They move, and get closer, and throw virtual weapons.

“Perfect.” you laugh, stepping up to one of the stations.

At the programming, you go ahead and make it the hardest possible. You select your weapon, keeping it at knives. It’ll be easier to throw than spears. Spears, you have to get your hands right on the hilt before throwing it. As for knives, you’re literally picking them up and throwing them.

You go ahead and pick up a few, feeling them in your hand. As a test run, the program automatically gives you one to start with. You have to find your footing first. You’re not in shoes, you’re barefoot. It’ll be easier for you to slip, since your feet aren’t gripped like the bottom of a shoe is.

However, you’ve been training for months for this exact moment. It might have been in shoes, but you haven’t fallen in a long ass time. You’ve always caught yourself, gradually becoming less clumsy as time goes along.

You throw the knife, being careful as to watch how it flies through the air. It hits the hologram in the middle of the chest, and then the blocks crumble. Just like that, the game has started, and they’re coming at you. For a moment, you’re overwhelmed, because you need to find a pattern for it.

Then, it all comes to you. They come in twos to three’s. You can hit them the first time if you aim for the chest and above. You’re typically hitting them in the head, getting them down the first time around. But on the off chance of missing it the first time, you always have an extra fourth knife in your hand.

You take them on at one at a time. The closest one is always the easiest, you get them out almost immediately. The second one is a little harder, you lean forward a bit more for this one. And the final one, is the one you’re needing the fourth knife for. They’re farther back on purpose, and they don’t come any closer past the half-way mark.

You throw with more force, allowing your body to move forward with the momentum that you build. The knives rest between your left hand’s fingers. You’ll grab the handle, flip for the blade, and then chuck.

The game is over before you realize it. There’s no more people coming at you, it’s just the playing field in front of you.

This is when you’re able to see that you’ve successfully hit the wall, that’s over twenty-five feet away from you, hard enough to get the entire knife into the wall. The ones that weren’t tough enough to make it through, dented.

“Damn.” Finnick’s voice is smooth, he whistles slightly, “That was good.”

You turn slowly, almost like you’re revealing yourself. And then it’s all at once and you’re doing jazz hands.

“This–” you jab your thumb at the station, “–is fucking awesome. I could do this all fucking day.”

“Well, go ahead,” he motions, “Do it again.”

You bounce slightly, heading back to the programming thing for the station. You go through the settings of it, curious on what it holds. These things are brand new, and they have endless possibilities on things you can do.

“It can be for two people!” you tell Finnick, looking over your shoulder, wiggling your eyebrows a little bit, “Wanna fight with me?”

Finnick laughs, coming up the steps to join you, “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Good.” you set it up, “I was afraid I might have to force you. It’s set to knives, and the hardest it can be.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Finnick is proud.

You start it, picking up on your technique. You don’t let Finnick know what the pattern is, letting him figure it out on his own. He takes a different approach with it, throwing the knives one at a time, rather than gathering them into his hands. It’s almost like he’ll be overwhelmed if he did it that way.

Eventually, you two have caught up with the system, even if there’s double the amount of holograms running at you. You and him turn it into a competition to see who can get them the fastest. Finnick is ahead, getting the most, moving faster than you are, but the ‘one at a time’ technique eventually fails on him.

You can only hold so many knives in your hand at once, but it works. You can get four or five of them down, leaving one for Finnick because you’re throwing yours so quickly. Eventually, he begins to give up, allowing you to take on the challenge that’s supposed to be for two people.

The last one that comes at you is a little quicker. You take your time with ending the game. Letting him get as close as possible before throwing the knife dead at his chest.

You’re pouring sweat. You can feel it almost everywhere on your body.

“I need a rag, holy fuck.” you wipe your forehead, and the back of your hand literally looks like it’s had water dumped on it.

Finnick grabs one for you, and then one for himself. You sit on the steps as you dry up your skin. Your forehead, the back of your neck, Finnick does his best to pat your back dry.

Your body feels like it’s vibrating from the exercise. It’s a good feeling, you haven’t felt this alive in such a long time. If the hunger games were targeted just for fighting rather than killing people, you might have volunteered sooner. The whole arena, and weapons and testing your survival is a good way to keep your skills in check.

Except, it’s a punishment, so there’s no way that this will ever be just an event for fun. It’s not fun, hundreds of kids have died because of it.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“So good.” you tell him, “I need water, and then some time before I do that again.”

“Wanan fuck around with knots?”

“Sure, I could teach you how to tie a noose.”

You get off of where you were sitting, stretching slightly, and then you toss the towel wherever. It doesn’t matter, you won’t be the one cleaning it up, and you could care less about manners. They’re sending you into the games, who cares about one measly little towel?

Someone will come after you and pick it up. Finnick follows the same thing you did, and you skip your way over to the knot tying station. Fortunately, this is the same time that the doors to the training center open.

Finnick looks over, “Girl on fire approaching.”

The guy from nine suddenly pukes, and you cover your mouth, laughing to yourself. Finnick can’t help but to laugh too.

“First impressions always stick,” you snort, stopping in front of the ropes, “Oh shit! Look, they’ve got different types.”

Finnick joins you. He messes around with the rope, creating several different loops, and then he’ll pull it apart. You on the other hand, tie the constrictors knot, and even pull the entire rope off of the display.

“You think you could hang me from the ceiling?” you ask, looking up to see how far away it is, “It would be kinda impressive to get down from there.”

“Don’t test your luck,” he shakes his head at you.

“I think I might!”

You untie the knot that you had made, and instead make one of the ends of the rope heavy. You swing it around a couple of times to make sure that it won’t fall apart, and when it’s sturdy, you toss it straight for the beams. You miss the first time around, but the next, it goes over.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun!” you laugh, “Watch–I can make a swing out of it.’

Finnick does watch as you make a couple of knots to sit and stand on, evenly spaced out. Then, you get on the end with the knots, and use the other side of the rope to pull yourself up.

“This is not real life,” Finnick laughs, “How?”

“Push me,” you laugh, and he complies, “Okay listen, there was a tree that we had in our backyard that was fucking huge. Not as high as these beams, but it was pretty big.”

“Let me guess, you made a tire swing or something dumb like that?”

“Exactly. We used to use old rope that we got from the square, so naturally they snapped easily. This is where I got a ton of practice with getting the rope over a tree branch.” you smile a little bit, “I would always have to climb the tree to tie the rope down, even if it wouldn’t last very long.”

“Which is how you were able to climb that tree so easily.”

“Ding ding!” you laugh, slowly letting yourself down from where you were in the air, “If only Reed were able to see me now. Instead of training, I’m swinging on a rope just for nostalgia’s sake.”

“I see nothing wrong with that.” Finnick tells you, “It’s my turn.”

You laugh, and he gets fixed onto the knots how he wants. You both pull the rope to get him up a little higher, and then you push him so he starts swinging too. You can see some of the other tributes stopping to stare at you guys. Acting like you’re a bunch of nutcases.

Eventually, Johanna jumps down from where she was practicing and heads over to you two.

“Really?”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to try.” you smirk, “Wanna go up next?”

“I think I’ll pass,” she goes over to grab a bottle of water.

“Johanna Mason, the girl who never had fun.” Finnick laughs, letting himself down too, “God, that hurts the thighs.”

Johanna rolls her eyes, “I know how to have fun, thank you.”

She then squirts water at you two, smiling slightly as she heads back to where she was practicing. Unbothered, you turn back to the rope swing.

“I should definitely hang upside down.”

“That is where I draw the line.” Finnick tells you, beginning to pull the rope down, “You’re not doing that.”

“Oh, why not?” you pout slightly, but there’s a smile on your face.

“You know why.” he tells you, gathering up the rope and then tossing it back into the display it came from, “What’s next?”

“Fish hook making?” you suggest, offering your hand for him to take.

He does take it, and squeezes your hand tightly, “Mine are going to look so much better than yours.”

“Another competition?” you ask, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Honey, we both know who’s the better fisher here.”

And only five minutes later, Finnick is eating his words.

“All the fish have fallen asleep again.” you tell him, “Or they’re leaving the area from how long you’re taking.”

He looks a little frustrated, and then motions to your hook, “Not like that could catch anything, anyway.”

“Just because it looks nice, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.” you argue, looking up when you hear someone coming, “Ah look, we have a judge!”

Katniss doesn’t look too thrilled at her new title.

“Tell us, who’s looking better?” you motion to what you have.

“I’m not done yet–” FInnick tries to protest.

“You can’t fix the unfixable.”

Finnick glares at you, “Honestly, fuck you.”

Katniss cracks a smile, coming closer as she looks over what you guys have made. She seems hesitant, uncomfortable. She’s obviously trying to make allies, but she doesn’t want to. You guys need to make a lasting impression on her. Especially since she’s seen you fuck around with a rope swing and argue over fish hooks so far.

“(Y/n)’s is better.” she decides.

“Smart girl!” you flip off Finnick for a moment, and then you turn to Katniss, “Alright, protege, I could teach you a few things.”

“Like you know anything.” Finnick jokes.

“We come from the exact same district,” you shake your head at him.

Katniss accepts your offer. As soon as she does, the bickering between you and Finnick calms down a lot since you’re in teaching mode. Every now and then Finnick will chime in with some good advice on how to get a fish to bite quicker, or make a hook that’s flimsy but it works.

Eventually, she offers to teach you specifically, how to shoot a bow and arrow. You turn it down, telling her you have better ways to deal with long-range enemies, but you and Finnick definitely follow her over to see what she can do. Sure, you saw her in the arena last year, but these holograms are something else.

She’s quick on her feet. She turns quickly, her eyes are always searching around. She doesn’t get surprised easily, and she almost dances around.

“She doesn’t want to make too much noise,” you point out to Finnick, pressing your finger against the glass, “Look at how she moves her feet.”

“Definitely a hunter, I’ll give her that.” Finnick nods, “I wonder what else she knows.”

By the time she’s done shooting, she’s gathered a whole crowd. The careers, Wiress and Beetee, Johanna, Peeta, Cecelia and Woof and a few of the others. Wiress erupts into clapping when Katniss is finished, and you can’t help but to smile.

“This is going to work perfectly.”

[thegodshavehorns]

Capture the Wind (4/5)

Chapter 4: Zugzwang

You are on the road all night.

You watch the lit signs along the road pass by, the lights of the cars flashing red and white. It’s mid Leo and the night is warm and clear. You wonder where you’re going, but don’t want to ask your dad. You’re kind of angry at him. He’s trying to run away from the Seer, and he thinks you’re in danger. But you prayed a lot when you were still going to church and nothing bad ever happened. Your dad is full of shit, and you sit sullenly in the passenger seat, marinating in your resentment.

Your dad doesn’t talk much, and you fall asleep around 2am slumped over a duffel bag. Your sleep is troubled, but you don’t remember your dreams.

In the morning, you are in Canada.

Your dad pulls into the lot of an economy-size motel in a small town, and buys a room. You are exhausted and unhappy and have no trace of empathy for your dad. So what if he drove all night? He chose to do that. Today is Vantaday; you were supposed to go to karate lessons! You don’t even have a permission slip or anything.

You pick up a set of keycards with the receptionist, and drag your duffel and your dad’s suitcases to the second floor. As your dad fiddles with the key card, you pretend to be interested in the floral patterns on the walls. You are pretty sure the receptionist said the room only had one bed. This is going to suck.

When the door opens, the Seer is inside the room.

She has obviously dressed to impress. Her robe is billowing (did she set up a fan?), and she has sigils of Mind blazoned not just on her chest but down the sides of her leggings and on bracelets that attach to rings on her fingers. The blue-green outfit is accentuated by splashes of red, on the belt, the shoes, and the cuffs of her sleeves. Her wings, which you’ve only seen her spread a few times, practically fill the tiny motel room.

She tilts her head, and the red glasses flash. “Took you a long enough. Was the traffic that bad?”

Your dad is standing utterly still, one arm held to the out as though to shield you from the goddess. But this is stupid, you’ve talked with her plenty of times before. You don’t really like her, but you’re not scared of her, not anymore.

The Seer sighs. “You told yourself that this would work, didn't you? My friend Eridan would be livid. Mr. Egbert, I think you are underestimating how valuable your son is to us.”

Your dad does not respond, and she steps to the side, revealing a small table and some chairs. “Unless you want to talk still half-standing in the hallway, I would recommend coming inside.”

You look up at your dad. Slowly, he nods, and steps forward, but only just enough to let the door close behind him. “John,” he says. “You should stay out-”

“No, he shouldn’t,” interrupts the Seer. “It is important for him to be involved.”

A brief look of pain passes over your dad's face. “Please, Seer, he is only a-”

“God,” interrupts the Seer. “He is only a God.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your dad pales.

The Seer smiles like a shark, and folds her hands on the carved head of her cane. “Oh, good, I have your attention. Now come in before I start to get irritated.”

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

You sit at the table, looking at your dad and the Seer, who are standing. Your dad refuses to sit.

She is explaining your destiny.

“There is a method,” she says, “by which mortals become gods. A trial, of sorts. This trial is only viable for certain individuals, and your son is one of those. Some of my... cohort don’t feel that this method of ascension should be used, but its occurrence is both necessary and inevitable. And, this is the most important part, even though the trial is going to inevitably happen, it is not inevitable that it succeed. Your son may die in the attempt. And so I have, out of the desire to see this trial succeed, taken it upon myself to tutor your son in the necessary skills for ascending to godhood.”

“I will not let you put my son into danger.” Your dad is talking back to the Seer. He’s defying her. You know he’s an atheist but this is insane.

“Your son has already accepted his destiny." The Seer materializes a coin from nowhere and flips it. “It was his choice.”

Your dad looks at you, and you try to stare back as defiantly as you can. “My son is a minor. He can’t be held to this.”

“Well, if you’re going to talk legality, Mr. Egbert, I think you might find yourself out of your depth.” The Seer flips her coin. “You will find that there are loopholes regarding divine pacts and agreements in the laws and statutes of every country on this planet, and in those of most other planets within reach.

“In addition,” she continues. “I think you may have missed the part where I said that the occurrence of the trial is inevitable. In a sense, it has already happened. Surely you know that we gods created ourselves? So it is with John. He has already created himself, and so it is certain that he will face this trial. And neither you nor I nor any other force in this universe could prevent it.” The Seer leans on her cane. “With that in mind, know that I am here to help your son. If it’s his safety you are worried about, rest assured that I am here to make him immortal. With my help, your son will live to see stars birth and die, watch civilizations rise and fall. He will be praised and worshipped. His potential will be limitless. Isn’t that what any father would want?”

Your dad is very still. “How confident are you?”

“I know the trial will happen. I cannot guarantee its success, but training John under my wings is a decent way to hedge his bets.”

“Has it happened before?”

The Seer is impassive. “Not on this planet.”

“And when is this trial to occur?”

“When John is ready.” The Seer pauses. “You are already thinking that you can sabotage my efforts and delay the trial. You think that if you delay it long enough, the inevitable will not occur.” She shakes her head. “You would not be doing your son any favors, by interfering with his training.”

Your dad looks like he’s about to speak, but the Seer interrupts again. “You cannot outrun me, outwait me, or outwit me. Please don’t hurt yourself or John by trying.”

Your dad straightens. “I have conditions.”

The Seer smiles. “You are in no position to make demands, Mr. Egbert. All the same, I am willing to let John stay with you, and allow you to remain a family unit. I am willing to provide education and funds for the remainder of the time before the trial, as you and John may need them. But your final condition is misguided.”

“I will not allow you to keep hurting my son!”

The Seer flips her coin. “Mr. Egbert, I am not doing this because I enjoy hurting your son, much as he might think so. I am doing this because it will help him in his coming trials. Changing the methods of my training would be utterly beside the point. Now, if we’re done with that, you will find that SkaiaCorp has purchased a nice home for you in Calgary. You will be provided with furnishings.”

“Wait,” you interject. “We’re not going home?”

“Your home burned down last night,” the Seer says. “It is good you moved when you did. Not all the gods are as good at tracking as I am.”

Your dad slowly sinks into a chair. His expression is taut, lips pulled tight.

“I am glad we reached this understanding,” says the Seer. “Feel free to stay in this motel as long as you wish, but your new home will be waiting for you when you come out. And John,” she turns to you. “I hope you brought your hammer with you. We will be resuming our lessons tomorrow.”

She leaves, folding her wings to fit through the doorway. Your dad opens his bag and takes out his pipe. He lights it, and smokes silently for several long minutes.

Then he reaches over and hugs you, hard enough to compress your ribs. He smells of tobacco and very faintly of cake.

And all you can think about is that your computer was in your house, and all your movies.

This is going to suck.

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

You stay in the motel for much longer than your dad originally paid for. You strife with the Seer in the parking lot, and attempt to play psion chess in your tiny room. Your dad applies ice packs to your bruises, and gives you clandestine but unhelpful hints about the chess until the Seer shoos him away.

When you are not with the Seer, you are bored out of your mind. You didn’t bring any books with you,  or video games, or magazines, or anything. The TV in the room is lame, but you watch it for hours with nothing better to do. Your dad won’t take you into town, won’t let you leave the motel. The Seer must have put the fear of Gods in him.

One day, your dad comes back from shopping. You watch as he takes out a small framed print of a clown and props it up on top of the TV, right next to grandma’s cookie jar of ashes. He smiles at you, his eyes sad, and you look away.

You are slowly going insane.

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

The cane swipes overhead, and you duck and strike at the Seer’s knees. She jumps back and strikes low, before whipping the cane up and bashing your chin. Your teeth clack together and you reel back. You hope your teeth didn’t crack. She doesn’t usually aim for the face.

But you’re still standing, so the strife is still on. She strikes for your belly, and you answer without thinking, directing your blow not at her, but at her cane.

The cane is only light wood, and it splinters.

The Seer holds the broken cane for a moment, then grins wryly. “Not a bad idea, shortening my reach. But now the end is sharp.”

That’s not good. “What? You’re not going to…”

“Are you certain?” Her voice is low. “How can you be sure of what your enemy will or won’t do?” She takes a step forward. “How can you be sure you haven’t bitten off more than can fit down your throat?”

“We’re not enemies! That’s not why you’re even here!”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t know!” Your teeth hurt and your chin is bleeding a little and you’re losing your temper. “How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to do? I can’t beat you!”

“That’s a defeatist attitude, John. What’s wrong?” She takes out a coin and flips it. Are you done strifing, for now?

“Are you really asking what is wrong?” You gesture angrily with the hammer. “You should know; you know everything!”

She flips the coin. “John, whether or not you are frustrated, bored, or lonely must have no bearing on your martial ability. An enemy will take advantage of you, when you are weak.” She lifts the broken, sharp-pointed cane. “Defend yourself, John.”

But you’re not looking at her. You’re looking at the coin. She’s still flipping it, even as she steps forward to strife. Is this some kind of handicap on herself, to make up for the sharp cane?

You decide to strike first, and she blocks your hammer, unerring as usual. She strikes, and you move to block, but of course it’s a feint, and then the sharp end of the cane rips your sleeve. She’s playing with you, not even breaking skin.

She flips the coin, you strike, she blocks, one-handed. Even with the handicap, she outclasses you in every way.

The coin lands, face-up, and an odd impulse occurs to you. You strike left, and she blocks.

She flips. The coin lands, face-down, and you strike right. She blocks.

You watch the coin as you strife, giving the Seer a lesser degree of attention. She rips your pant leg, your shirt collar, then scratches a shallow cut on your forearm. You ignore it. Face-up. Left. Face-down. Right. Face-down. Right.

Face-up. Left, and she is a moment slower in blocking.

Face-down. Right, and you-

The sound is a dull thud traveling up your arm. And the Seer drops her cane, cradling her hand where you hit her.

“Shit.” You say. “Shit, gods, Seer, I’m sorry-”

She lifts her head, then bares her teeth in something that can’t possibly be a smile, can it?

“Don’t apologize.” She reaches for the cane with her other arm. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”

Your arms are shaking from exhaustion. This is probably the longest strife you’ve had yet. And now she’s not flipping the coin, how can you-

You continue your strife, she draws more blood, shallow cuts and scrapes, and you’re faltering, hoping she just ends this without poking your eye out. You wonder whether she would consider that a just punishment, for landing a hit on her.

There is a strong breeze going, and the Canadian flag is flapping in the wind. You decide to use it as an ersatz coin. If it’s flapping toward you, left, if it’s flapping away, right.

You strike left, left, left, right, right- and strike the goddess in the breastbone with a dull smack.

She staggers back, coughs, gasps. Then, she laughs.

“Oh! Gosh, oh fuck, are you okay?” You are freaking out. This is not okay.

Her laughter turns into coughing. “Go back inside, John,” she croaks. “Good work today.”

You do not feel good about this. You can’t just leave her sitting in the parking lot with possibly broken ribs! “Will you be-”

“GO 1NS1D3.”

You haven't heard her use the Tinge since you first met. You go inside.

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

It’s only that night, after your dad has put unnecessary bandages on all your scrapes (which really aren’t that bad), while you’re lying awake in bed, that you realize she’s never said ‘good work’ to you before.

Does that mean you're getting closer to becoming a god, like her? You've been trying not to think about that part, about what that might mean, or what the 'trial' might be like. You imagine being forced to fight duels against powerful opponents, or to play chess against some kind of crazy-advanced 5th-dimensional computer. You toss and turn on the hide-a-bed, and as you fall into a troubled sleep, your theoretical opponents become shadowy, cackling, horned figures wielding rolled-up posters as swords, and in your half-dreaming state, behind the blackness of sleep, you see for once the faintest hints of gold...

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

Two days pass, and the Seer does not return. Your dad buys another clown picture, and hangs it over the hide-a-bed. This motel room is starting to make you sick.

You are planning your escape.

By which you mean, you are not planning it. You know her weakness, now. She knows what you think, and what you choose. But she doesn’t know what you don’t think and what you don’t choose.

So you’re not going to think. You are not going to plan, you are not going to prepare, and you are going to leave your route up to chance. You are going to flip two coins, whenever you need to decide where to go. Head-Head, you go right. Tail Tail, you go left. Head-Tail, you keep straight.

You can’t tell your dad. He’d probably try to stop you. But he’s recently bought an EZ Bake oven and keeps trying to make muffins, so you can probably sneak out without him noticing.

You are leaving the room. Your dad should be busy with late-night baking, so you’re fine, you’ll be-

“Son.”

Shit. What is he doing out in the hall?

“Dad?” you ask. “What are you doing out here?”

Your dad smiles, and lifts a plastic bag. “I didn’t get quite enough chocolate at the store. I could have gone back, but I thought, ‘The vending machine has chocolate bars. I'll just get those.’ And that's what I did.”

“Oh.” You shove your hands in your pockets and fiddle with your two coins.

Your dad holds his hand out, proffering a chocolate bar. “I got an extra one for you.”

“That’s okay, Dad. I am not hungry.” You’re really not. Your stomach is fluttering and you don’t feel at all like eating.

Your dad wiggles the bar. “Chocolate is good for your heart, you know.”

You snort. “Pff. Yeah right.”

“It’s scientifically proven. Are you going to argue with science?”

“Dad, I’m fine.” How are you going to get out of this?

“It’s also scientifically proven that kids your age argue with their parents whenever possible.” Your dad is still smiling, but the expression is slightly more melancholic than before. “John, take the chocolate.”

You give your dad your most skeptical look, and he sighs.

“You can talk to me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

Oh crap. Not another Talk. This is not what you need right now. Time to parry the conversation. “What is there to talk about?”

Your dad reaches forward to touch the scab on your chin from the recent strife.

“Maybe stuff like that,” he says. “Or maybe the bruises that don’t show on your skin.”

You step back, avoiding his hand and taking your hands out of your pockets to shield yourself. “There is nothing to talk about. You know what’s going on now.”

Your dad nods. “I know this must be hard for you, Son. Kids aren’t meant to deal with things like this. She's trying to control our family and your future, and it's wrong.”

You mumble; “I can handle it,” and your dad affixes you with a Look.

“Dad, what do you expect me to say?” You are getting irritated now,and you groan in exasperation. “Augh, it’s, look, talking to her is no big deal. That is not a problem.”

“And the fighting?” Your dad's voice is quiet.

“That isn't a problem either. It’s nothing.” You are lying, and from the way your dad is looking at you, you’re beginning to wonder if the Seer isn’t the only mind reader around.

“Son.” Your dad leans down, looks you in the eye. “She drew blood on you. That’s not nothing.”

He’s right. You look to the side, away from him, at the cheap floral print wallpaper of the motel. “I… think I might have hurt her.”

Your dad puts down the plastic bag, then reaches into it and takes out another chocolate bar, adding it to the first. “Well done.” Then, he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently, to not aggravate the bruising. “But if this is bothering you, then we should talk about it.”

Argh. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything. You are STUPID stupid.

“I’m not bothered,” you say, chewing on your lower lip.

“You are bothered."

“Dad, I'm not, it's just... I dunno, it is weird and strange and I don't know how I'm supposed to act or feel. At all. I do not know what I am supposed to do. Argh. It's like, I don't know. It's dumb. I just can't figure out what she wants from me.” You lower your voice, not even sure if you should be saying this next part, hoping that she can’t hear you thinking it. "I don’t really like her. And I do not think she wants me to like her. But I didn't like hurting her, either."

Your dad gestures vaguely near his face, and you get the feeling that he’d like to have a pipe there. “Well. At least I don’t have to worry about my son getting a crush on a goddess.”

“Dad, please. I am serious.”

“I’m serious too. You don't understand, being a kid, but that would be a real headache. Who would you ask for a blessing, for one? She made herself, so is she her own mother and father?”

You roll your eyes so far back that your eyeballs hurt. “Okaaaaay, Dad!”

Your dad is grinning like a cat. “At least fall in love with a regular alien, if you decide to go that route. They might have funny numbers of eyes and arms, but at least I would know what to do when the in-laws are over.”

“DAD.”

“SON.”

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me?”

He abruptly stops smiling. “I want you to be happy. And I will defy any god who stands in the way of that.”

“Well, that sure didn't make a difference with the Seer!” you snap. It comes out a lot harsher than you meant it to, and you can see immediately that your dad is hurt.

“You’re right,” he says, softly. “I’m sorry, John. I failed you.”

That makes you really uncomfortable to hear, and you put your hands back in your pockets. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just saying, it probably doesn’t matter what you do to try and stop her, she’ll do it anyway.”

“Maybe she lied,” says your dad. “It’s been known to happen. Maybe it’s not inevitable, this thing she is training you for.”

“Maybe.” That’s what you’re banking on. You broke her prophecy about your dad, after all. “She doesn’t know everything.”

Your dad arches a brow. “Oh?”

You nod. “Yeah. That’s how I hurt her. I found something she couldn't predict.”

“A blind spot, you could say?” your Dad proffers, and you groan. “And what is this ‘something?’”

You pause. You can’t afford to let your ace slip from your sleeve. “I don’t want to say it out loud. Or even think about it a lot.  It is all I have right now.”

Your dad makes that gesture again, like he’s reaching for his pipe. “I see. So what are you planning to do, if you can’t think about it?”

You clutch the coins tightly in your pockets. You could lie to your dad, but at this point you just… really want someone on your side. You are so lonely.

“I’m going to run.” And, at the shocked look on your dad’s face, you continue hurriedly, wanting to explain, not giving him the chance to scold you for being stupid. “I feel like I have to. She hasn't been back in a few days, so now's my chance. And anyway, like you said, since she doesn't know everything, maybe she's wrong about the trial, too.”

Your dad looks solemn. “John, is that what you were going to do, when you bumped into me?”

You look away, “No. I mean, yes.”

“Weren’t you going to bring anything with you?”

“I… didn’t want to think too much about it.”

You glance back at your dad. His lips are sealed tight, but his eyes look soft, almost sad. Is he going to punish you? Send you back into the motel room?

Then, he whips out his wallet, and hands it to you.

“Dad?

“Use the credit cards only if you absolutely have to. They could use them to track you, so use the paper money for what you need. You have five thousand dollars in cash. Budget it."

You take the wallet, eyes wide. You didn’t know what you expected, but it sure wasn’t this. “Dad???”

Your dad is grabbing you by the shoulders, marching you forward. You don’t push back or resist, absolutely flummoxed. He’s still talking. “Don’t withdraw more than a thousand dollars at one location. Don’t go into any churches. Don’t talk to anyone wearing a sigil.”

You are outside the motel, in the parking lot. Your dad turns you around and hugs you, squeezing your shoulders so hard it would hurt even without the bruises.

He lets go of you, not waiting for you to hug him back. “Now go.”

You don’t have time to say anything, no thank yous or goodbyes. He’s already gone into the motel. You’re holding his wallet in one hand, your coins in the other.

You nod, even though he can’t see it. You breathe. Then you turn, and run.

[split-n-splice]

This chapter picks up the scene where Ch25 Welfare Check left off. Ya, it's a short one, ya, it's fluffy (I think so anyway), but it leads into things. Not exactly romantic things, but we'll get there. There’s a reference to Bad is Good and Good is Bad (a precursor to this fic) in this chapter, so maybe check that out if you haven’t yet.

Ao3 | FFn | Chapter Art!

[Chapter Guide]

27. Aura of Others – 1

Drakken smirked back at her for a moment, until she wiped her own smile off her face. His gaze hardened to somber stone then and turned down to the cutting board, and Shego had to wonder inwardly if he was imagining it was his competition’s fingers he was slicing through, given the newfound vigor with which he was chopping.

“We leave Friday,” he said decisively. “ASAP.”

Normally she’d be inclined to pluck a slice of pepper from the board and pop off something like, “What’s the rush?” but instead she crossed her arms and bit her lip to stifle a groan. “Mmm, no can do,” she regrettably informed. “Can it wait until Saturday?”

Drakken’s brow creased. “Why? Have a convenience store to rob, do you?” he shot.

She reached for the little paper in her pocket but stopped herself. Her hands were just beginning to spark – her nervous tell. She hid them under the countertop as she reigned it in. “No,” she snorted. “I have a date.” Though maybe angel boy wasn’t so innocent after all. Maybe he’d be down for a little burglary.

The sound of the knife chop-chop-chopping through veggies paused. From the corner of her eye, she could see him staring. Her stomach lurched – she didn’t want to look directly at him – but she shot a frown his way. “You have a problem with that, Doc?” she snipped after a moment.

His eyes snapped back down. “No. Not at all,” he said brusquely and spun around with the cutting board to focus on the stove instead. He flapped a dismissive hand. “Go hog wild. As long as it doesn’t interfere with what I have cooking.”

She watched his back as he worked, grabbing the olive oil and spices from the cabinet to throw in a pan, moving awkwardly as if determined to keep his back to her. She got the sense she wouldn’t be the only one keen on a change of subject. “What are you cooking?” she lazily wondered. She meant to stay perched on the barstool. She didn’t mean to hop off and open up the fridge beside him or steal a glance at the pan.

He shrugged, eyes flickering as he threw a sidelong peek her way. “Fajitas. Do you like fajitas?”

“Better than fish tacos,” she mumbled under her breath.

Shego reached for a can of root beer but caught herself eyeing an elaborately marbled dessert sitting on the shelf below, protected by a sparkling glass lid. He either had a knack for it or he’d been working on his presentation, she mused to herself. She caught a distinct whiff of pumpkin. No wonder it smelled so sweet in the lair. Unbefitting for a villain as it was, her partner was unabashed as ever about his sweet tooth.

“Enough for a guest?” she piped wryly, ignoring the twist in her gut as she leaned back on the fridge to watch the rogue doctor’s frown give way to a strained smirk. For the moment, she focused on the relief that her family had left – which meant she could stick around for dessert.

With something other than value-menu Chow in her stomach, plus an artfully-plated slice of sinfully decadent cheesecake to top it off, she was happier still to sink down in the soft corduroy cushions of Drakken’s couch that evening, hugging a throw pillow under her cheek. She was even content enough to sigh and say nothing in objection when the goober of a man eagerly tuned in to a Space Passage film on television.

The movie was tough to focus on. Shego barely followed, though her droopy fatigued stare straying off toward Drakken time and time again that may have been to blame. He sat slumped in his recliner nearby, absorbed in the franchise sci-fi flick and oblivious to her eyes continuously straying from the hunky Commander Cain. Eventually she tore her eyes away and shut them, nuzzling into the throw pillow and trying not to consider how much it smelled like him, staving off the smirk when the very idea infected her brain.

The room was mostly dark by the time her eyes opened again. The television was off, and only the lamp on the end table was left on to dimly light the den. There was a hand gripping her shoulder, and she turned her bleary eyes up at the dark shape of Drakken kneeling next to her. He smelled of booze again. He really shouldn’t have been leaning close enough she could smell it on his breath, but there he was, ballsy as ever when he’d had a bit to drink.

He swayed unsteadily before plopping over to sit on the floor, and just about melted against the edge of the couch. Shego scooted back a little bit as he rested his cheek on the cushion, his sickly-dark eyelids falling shut. “Why don’t you ever sleep in your own bed?” he grumbled to the corduroy.

She shifted, propping up on an elbow and rubbing her eyes to distract herself from how close his face had been. “Because I hate the springs,” she fibbed, and stifled a yawn. She didn’t want to admit that the mattress was one more bad night away from being completely unusable, if that. She slept better on the couch anyway.

The boozy man heaved a long sigh and hefted himself to sit in an almost upright position. She might be inclined to lecture him if the drinking habit kept up. “I suppose you want a ride home now, hm?”

“You couldn’t ask before you started drinking?” she groused. She bit back further chiding for now, giving a grimace and shake of her head. Even if he was in a state to drive, she wouldn’t want to go. She wasn’t ready to be tempted so soon by an addictive sleep aid, one of the scarce few things that promised relief. Too bad it came with side effects. Sinking back down into the pillow, she grumbled, “Go to bed, Doc.”

Drakken grunted as he stood up on wobbly legs. “Yes, ma’am.” He spun toward her as he backed away, kicking the coffee table and nearly falling as he went, and Shego wondered if he even knew what he was saying as he gave an awkward bow and made an even more awkward offer. “Well, if you care to join – i-it’s fit for a king – I mean, um – there’s room. ‘Night!”

She stared as he quickly retreated, shuffling and tripping his way out of the room. She didn’t hear his door click shut, and she stared for an extra moment as she deciphered the invitation before her face flushed pink.

The whole point of crashing at the lair tonight was to escape the temptation of popping another special little pill. And the whole reason for the temptation in the first place was a lack of control over an accursed otherworldly gift she was still battling to tame.

So it didn’t make a lot of sense to sit up, kicking away the fleece throw blanket that had been courteously draped over her. Her eyes remained on the door tucked away in the niche, and she gripped her knees tight enough her nails dug through the denim. She drew a deep breath. She wasn’t warm. He didn’t make her warm. She inwardly repeated it like a mantra, even as she tugged the collar of her blouse, blowing down it in a futile effort to cool herself.

It didn’t make sense when she stood either, and it made less sense to gravitate toward that door when she really should have been turning around and heading out the other to go home, or to her own room, or something.

It was cracked – she’d expected that – but she didn’t expect herself to raise her knuckles to rap lightly and push it open. Curiosity reeled her in, hook, line, and sinker.

Like the den, Drakken’s bedroom was dark, save for a reading lamp perched on the shelf built into the headboard of the oversized bed, casting a warm yellow glow. She’d stolen a peek once before when the lights were on, weeks ago, and silky scarlet bedding indeed fit for a king had been alarming then, but the bedspread had since been replaced with something more suitable to the new season. She could barely see his shape beneath the puffy blue comforter, and she couldn’t help musing how small and lonely he looked in the huge bed. Fidgeting anxiously with the beads around her wrist, her feet carried her forward before she could think twice.

The spring water stream cutting through the room was like a clear line warning her not to come any closer. Shego paused at the edge as a distant sense of déjà vu echoed at the back of her mind, and she couldn’t help reaching for her throat.

There’d been a warning line before, years ago. He’d crossed it with zero regard, though it had been clearly painted across the floor of her chamber at the research facility, marking how close was too close to the volatile subject she’d been reduced to. Maybe she should have taken the trench as a similar warning.

She crossed it anyway.

But not before clipping off the stupid bracelet and stuffing in the pocket of her jeans. It hadn’t felt so much like jagged rocks digging to her wrist until now. It didn’t even feel right in her pocket, and she had half a mind to discard it in the flow of murky water.

Heat rose around her collar again, but each step closer had yet to feel like an outright mistake as she circled cautiously around to a vast open side of the bed.

Drakken lay bundled on his side, something fuzzy and brown tucked under his chin as he scratched away lazily in his little leather notebook. He licked a finger and flipped a page to start on another before Shego cleared her throat softly, and his heavy-lidded eyes cut up to her through the skewed glasses. The book snapped shut and was quickly tucked under his pillow, one of several heaped on his bed, all bearing miss-matched pillowcases in shades of blue or red or grey.

Shego took half a step back when he jerked upright, catching his spectacles before they could fall off his face. He fixed the glasses on his nose, jaw unhinged, and she tried not to stare back. The once-over he gave her didn’t help the rising warmth she had to steel herself against with a deep breath.

His mouth moved, and she didn’t catch what came out, but she was sure it was confused gibberish anyway.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously on him. The open space was inviting, offering ample room to toss and sprawl. “Do you promise not to touch me?” she asked carefully. It shouldn’t be hard to keep to the edge. The size of the bed was absurd really, at least for someone so solitary.

She shouldn’t be considering.

Drakken both shook his head and nodded, and looked rather confused himself in that moment. He all but tore off his glasses then, folding them up and discarding them to the shelf, as if to willingly blind himself so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. “Ah…yes?” he practically croaked.

“Pinky swear?”

Without question, he raised a hand and stuck out his pinky, but retracted it and pursed his lips with a hum. “That would be touching you,” he said absolutely, sounding a little too straight-laced and polite for a guy wearing an old rock-n-roll shirt to bed.

“Good catch.” A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. Shego fidgeted, but the buttons of her blouse shouldn’t have been what she fidgeted with. “I’ll kick your ass if you do,” she added without the conviction to back up the threat, and bit her lip as she hoped he wouldn’t prove crossing the line to be a mistake. She hoped he was as blind as she suspected he was, but even if he wasn’t, she might not mind the gawping as long as he kept his end of the deal.

She didn’t know what she was thinking, because the sake of comfort couldn’t be the sole reason for shedding her layers. She was warm, sure, but she could ignore the fact as she smirked impishly at the alarmed stare snapping down to her waist as her fingers popped off the last button in question. She almost laughed when stark uncertainty dawned on the tipsy man and he bit down hard on his lip, completely frozen and holding his breath. No sooner had Shego stripped down to her camisole did he throw himself back down, back to her before he could witness her stepping out of her jeans as well.

She couldn’t say she was all that let down he’d lost the brazenness that seemed to come hand-in-hand with alcohol lately. She wasn’t terribly offended by the cold shoulder either. If anything, it came as a comfort, as she could breathe easier when she wasn’t being watched. She was pushing her luck already, and she didn’t need to cross anymore lines tonight. She’d gone far enough. If she could just withstand this without the drug, then she could withstand Friday night.

A deep breath to calm her nerves once more, and Shego slipped into the soft cushy bed and under the heavy cover. She tried not to think back on the unwelcome wakeup call she’d had the last time she’d nodded off somewhere she shouldn’t have. Staring at Drakken’s back well out of reach, she relaxed, convinced he wouldn’t prove this to be a mistake after all.

The inferno of alien fire raging to be let out died down and she felt a few degrees cooler as she unwound with remarkable ease. Maybe she was being just a little too trusting, but she’d grown foolishly comfortable with this scientist over the past several weeks. She was banking on the rising villain to stay trustworthy.

Every blink stung, but rather than shutting them for good, her tired eyes strayed from Drakken’s back to the brown thing that had been discarded, forgotten on the sheets between them. She raised her brow but decided not to mention it until his own measured breathing had relaxed. By then, she couldn’t hold a small laugh back any longer. “You sleep with a teddy bear?”

By the level of irritation in the man’s harrumph, he’d nearly been asleep. She caught a glimpse of his purple face as he patted around behind himself for it, grumbling unhappily, “It was my dog’s.”

The room felt cold suddenly, which might have been a welcomed sensation if she were at home battling the resolve not to pop a pill. The thought of Drakken all alone in the great big bed crossed her mind again, and she tried to imagine him in the lab with a dog around to remind him to take a break for fresh air and a walk. She kept her mouth shut about the little memento, muttering instead, “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Yes, well, there are a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

“But I could know them,” she whispered over, watching his shoulders tense. She wriggled a bit to get comfortable, and maybe a couple inches closer. “What kind of dog?”

Drakken deflated with a long weary sigh. “He’s…was a beagle.”

She decided not to press it further. Now was the time for sleep, not for idly chitchatting like middle-schoolers at a sleepover. She was ready to shut her eyes, but suddenly Drakken shifted and her heavy lids snapped back open as he reached for the lamp. “Leave it on,” she blurted.

“Why?”

“Because – um.” She zipped her lips. Because she didn’t want to be sitting in the dark, with pinpricks of her nerves standing out like stars in the night. But wasn’t that why she was lying here anyway? To challenge her nature? She didn’t need him accusing her of being afraid of the dark. That would only worsen her condition and get her wound up again. “Nevermind. Whatever. Hit it.”

And the room went dark, save for the red glow of the digital alarm clock on the shelf.

As her eyes adjusted, she heard the shuffle and felt the slight shift across from her, still safely out of reach. He’d turned to face her now, the faint glint of light shining off his lenses indicating he’d donned his spectacles again. Nerves fluttered back to fan the alien fire at the thought that maybe he only needed the dark to get gutsy again. His pensive hum didn’t help. She was ready to snap at him to take a picture, it would last longer.

“You’ve got freckles?”

“What—”

“Like radium,” said Drakken between yawns. “Radium freckles.” No doubt about it, he was looking at her.

She wanted to roll over and bundle up so he couldn’t see any of her skin whatsoever, but she couldn’t even tuck a stray arm under the cover, momentarily frozen. She didn’t need to glance at herself to know the little pinpricks of plasma were firing off. Even her breath felt hotter now, the more she tried to restrain it. She shifted, hugging herself and rubbing a bare arm as if she could rub away the pinpoints of plasma looking for an exit. She wished for a fleeting second that she had the damn bottle of pills handy after all.

“Doesn’t it freak you out?” she wondered a little too crossly.

“Nah,” Drakken grunted. “It’s rather pretty. Dangerous things tend to be.”

Her brow furrowed. It was reassuring, and comforting, and it made her warm in the worst way – but it was midnight. It was time to shut up. So she grabbed one of the many pillows piled up and threw it in the general vicinity of his head. “Go to sleep, Doc.”

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

The Crossing || Rebecca and Kaden

TIMING: Present LOACTION: Kaden’s Apartment PARTIES: @exorciseyourspirit and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: This mom empty

Kaden was sitting in his apartment, Abel in the crate he almost never used next to him, circle of salt around them both. He had an iron knife in one hand, a salt shaker in the other. Sure, the apartment was warded off already, but he’d thought that was the case before. He wasn't taking chances. Especially knowing that they were going to try and send her away tonight. There was no way she didn’t know. And no way this would go smoothly. So Kaden sat there in his stupid salt circle next to his whining confused dog and watched the door. Rebecca should be here any minute. He knew he should apologize, hell Theo told him as much, but he’d consider it after they got rid of the poltergeist. Maybe after her processed that, too. For now he was choosing to stay focused on the task. Emotions could come later. A knock on the door. He leapt up, moved his knife and salt shaker to the same hand and got the door, opening it wide for her to enter. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

Preparations were checked and double checked and triple checked. And then Theo had even insisted on checking, until Rebecca finally stood firmly outside the door, staring hard into the wood. It’’d been almost two years since she’d done an exorcism, let alone a summoning and banishment in one. Something curdled inside of her, a feeling-- but she pushed it aside, raised her hand, and knocked. The door swung open far too quickly and he was looking at her with far too much worry. “Yes,” she answered, stepping in beside him, “let’s.” She noted the salt circle on the floor, around the dog’s cage. “Is he secure?” she asked, glancing back. Having an animal in the room would make things difficult, but not ultimately harder. “We need as little room for error as possible. I’ll need a large space to set up the summoning circle, as well. And something of hers, if you’ve got it, to help.”

Kaden nodded. “He is. But I can move the crate to the bedroom if you think he’s not--” Safe. He didn’t want to know what his mother would potentially do to Abel. She always thought pets were pointless, would only tolerate the best hunting dogs. And in this state-- “Uh, yeah, I’ll move him while you get set up. Move whatever you have to,” he said pointing to the living room. He thought about telling her to be nice to any skulls around but bit his tongue. Not the kind of impression he wanted to make right now. He let the dog out of the crate and carried it to the bedroom. Gave Abel a deer antler and put more salt around the crate. Not taking any fucking chances with his dog. When he came back to the living room, he held out a necklace to her, silver bullet dangling at the end. “This was hers. Always wore it. Still wearing it in her spectral form, even.” If anything was going to work, it would be that. “Uh, how bad you think this could get?”

Rebecca didn’t have to answer, listening to him figure it out himself. When he was out of the room, she pushed the coffee table out of the way and began to lay down the papers she’d carefully sketched out, sticking them onto the floor. She figured he probably didn’t want her to draw all over his carpet, and by the time they activated, the magic would hold them together. She didn’t bother to explain there could be possible burn marks, depending on how easily his mother came. When he returned with the necklace, she took it gingerly. Surely, it meant something to him if he’d kept it. “Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her wrist next to her red Kabbalah bracelet. Paused. “There’s a reason exorcists retire early,” was all she said, knowing he would understand. He was, after all, a hunter. “Stand in your salt circle. She’ll likely go for you once she realizes she can’t touch me.” Poised herself at the head of the circle. “Ready when you are.”

Kaden’s eyes stayed fixed on the necklace as she placed it around her wrist. So much of him felt like he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t care so much about his mother or her possessions at this point. Still did. “Yeah, I figured as much,” he said. He knew all too well about the toll this sort of work put on people. And he figured it was just as hard for an exorcist to walk away from fighting the fight as it was for a hunter. Stupid as it was for them to keep throwing themselves in the line of danger. With a sigh, he nodded and stepped back into his salt circle a bit away from the papers laid on the ground. His iron knife gripped in his hand, he took a deep breath and braced himself for this. This whole time, through all the torment, he hadn’t had to see her or even directly hear her for the most part. The last time he’d seen his mother was when he threw that coin over the side of Hanging Rock. He had a feeling this would be much different. “Do it,” he said with a small nod.

Rebecca drew in a deep breath. She could do this. She focused, concentrated on the bracelet on her arm, the dagger at her hip. She used the pull of the silver bullet necklace to search through the ether for his mother’s spirit. And when she was ready, she opened her eyes, chanting quietly in Hebrew. Her voice was deep, strong. The papers on the floor began to glow where she had marked them with paint. Harsh and yellow, pouring out light. The room shook with the force as Rebecca reached through the ether, searching for the soul connected to the necklace. Finally, she found out. Gripped, and pulled. The resistance was expected-- the strength, not so much. Rebecca grit her teeth, pulling her to them. Lauren Langley’s form flickered in the circle. She didn’t waver, even as an anger filled the room. And, finally, the woman was there, glowing with a light that matched the ruins beneath her.

Kaden could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, but they kept getting shorter and shorter. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust Rebecca, she sure looked like she knew what she was doing and he could read the experience coming off her, he just wasn't sure he was ever going to be ready for this confrontation. His brow furrowed a moment as it looked like Rebecca struggled. Shit. Was it going wrong already? Leave it to his mother to make this shit difficult. He thought he might sigh in relief when he saw his mother's form. Instead his breath caught in his throat. She looked angrier than the last time he saw her. Much. Putain.

Lauren had done her best not to get dragged into some surely half rate exorcist’s summoning circle if she could avoid it. Apparently she could not. Rage boiled deep through her as she appeared in Kaden’s apartment, still in disarray from the other night. If she still cared, she might be proud to see him wielding an iron knife while standing in his little salt circle. Still he looked petrified, almost shrunken. Certainly no son of hers. “I see you’re trying to be rid of me, mon petitou,” she said, voice laced with venom, ignoring the exorcist across from her. “I’m sure she’s only as good as your standards seem to be lately.”

Rebecca didn’t often engage with spirits once they were in her circle, but something told her Kaden, and perhaps Theo, might appreciate the words this time. The circle was holding her tight in place, but the real trouble would come when she started the exorcism. Sending away a poltergeist, not just banishing them, was painful and hard, and Lauren was sure to resist, more so than even from the summoning. “He must have pretty high standards, then,” she quipped, before slowly pulling out the emblazoned dagger on her side. Iron, engraved, a hilt to match her bracelet. “I’d say sorry, but I’m really not. You’ve caused your last wound, Langley,” she said stiffly, before drawing in a breath, and letting it go as she spoke the words, low and heavy and demanding. Bracing herself for the resistance she was sure to meet.

Lauren wasn’t going down so easily. Whoever this exorcist was, she didn’t care. She was a Langley and a DuBois, she was descended from centuries of hunters. She would protect her line, whatever the cost. Even if that meant pruning the family tree. As soon as this exorcist started chanting, Lauren called on all the anger festering inside her. The room began to tremble, slowly at first, then building. The furniture scraped against the floors before raising up, shaky and rattling into one another. Lights flashed in and out, flickering and twitching. “This just proves it, Kaden. You’re rotten to the core. Filth. Just like that fae of yours. You will never be a Langley ever again. You hear me? You can cast me out but you’ll never forget my words, never!” she bellowed.

Kaden figured he should just stand there. Not interrupt or engage unless absolutely necessary. But as the room shook, he just wanted to turn and run. His mother was somehow even worse than he’d imagined. Shadowy, bristling with rage, and still somehow a part of like how he remembered her. Just on her worst days. The days he failed in training. Or tried to ask questions. Or spent too much time with the few friends he was able to see. All those times he stood there and bit his tongue, took his punishment silently and raged about it later when he was alone. No. Not this time. “Rotten? You tried to fucking kill me! What kind of mother does that?! Did you ever even lo--” The word caught in his throat. “Was I just some fucking prop for your precious legacy?”

The power of the ghost before her was pushing through Rebecca’s strength, reaching through the circle. Wind billowed throughout the room. Furniture hovered, the walls rattled. The two were yelling at each other and Rebecca had to cling to her own voice, raising it louder to try and drown out the anger. “Kaden!” she said when she had the chance to pause, “Do not engage her! Now get over here! I need your help-- your power!” She snapped, pointing to the spot she’d marked next to her. She’d hope she wouldn’t have needed to tap into him, but Lauren was fighting harder than she’d hoped she would. Rebecca’s arms felt weak, and she felt something reaching up inside of her. Dammit, she didn’t have the energy to fight both of them off. She needed Kaden now. “Hurry!”

When Rebecca shouted his name, Kaden realized how fucking stupid he was, yelling at a poltergeist. But he’d heard so much second hand by now, it just-- he needed to say it. He needed to yell back for two seconds. Still he sniffed and pushed his emotions back down. His mother was still yelling, the same shit she’d been saying to everyone else who could hear her, he was sure. No answers, no comfort, nothing to make him feel better about any of this. Why he’d hoped for that, he didn’t know. He took his place next to Rebecca, not entirely sure how this part worked. He’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a poltergeist exorcism til now.

Rebecca held out her other hand to Kaden, prompting him to take it. When he did, she immediately drew upon the well of power that sat in every hunter. She remembered the way Theo’s energy felt, and it lurched inside of her, the feeling of it, fighting off the memories. Something clawing for the power at the back of her mind. No, fuck, no. Eyes flickering for a moment. He came out just long enough to taste Kaden’s power, to taste her power, to interrupt her words. To falter the exorcism. And even after she shoved him back down, she could still feel him. She turned, letting go of Kaden’s hand. “In the circle!” she shouted, shoving against him, but her body moved stiffly. Give me his power, “The salt circle!” But it was too late. The binding circle was broken, and Lauren Langley was out.

Lauren had been pushing her powers at the edge of the circle from the moment she was dragged in there. When she felt the split second break, she smirked and slid out  of the exorcist’s trap. “Looks like I was right, again, Kaden.” He started to head to the salt circle, at least he was trying to obey someone here. It wouldn’t work, though. “This is far from over,” she told him as she slipped into his skin. He fought it more than the Harlow brat did, it wasn’t as easy as possessing a medium, but it hardly mattered. She had control of the body. First thing’s first was to get rid of the exorcist trying to cut her time short before she was properly repaid for all she’d done for son. “Remind me again about your standards,” she said as she reached over to grab Rebecca’s wrist where her silver necklace hung. She could feel the hunter strength in this body, a far cry from Blanche’s. She wasn't shy about using it. She went to take the necklace “I believe this is mine.” She had every intention of twisting her arm around, breaking her wrist, something fun, when she was interrupted.

Kaden didn’t know what happened, but Rebecca seemed to stagger and dropped his hand. When he turned, he blacked out. No. He was there. But not in control. What was-- No. His mother. Taking his body. No-- No. He caused this with inaction. Not again. He saw his hand reach for the necklace and he pushed it down and away; tried to throw himself to the ground. He felt his knees buckle and his body waver but she was still there. It was still there, fighting back tooth and nail.

Rebecca jerked away as fast as she could. “Give me his power!” she said in a foreign voice, the first time he’d used his own voice through her mouth. She clasped her hands over her mouth for a moment, struggling to keep him contained. He struggled against her, tearing at her insides as well. She cried out. “Let me help you,” he said inside of her. She could feel him grinning. “Let me consume her. It’ll be so easy. So fast.” he reached out, using her hand, the arm with his brand on it. It glowed. Her palm made contact with his body and it burned. It seared, steam wafting from where they’d made contact. Fuck, no. Fuck. “Get out of him!” Rebecca shouted. “Get out of him, or I will destroy you!”

Looks like her son had more bite to him than he’d been demonstrating recently. Lauren stomped her foot before pushing the body back to standing. Then she heard the unnatural voice that radiated from the exorcist and she took a half step back. Her rage gave way for terror for just a flash. “What are you?” she asked, eyes wide. She didn’t get an answer, just pain, pain searing through her as the exorcist tried to force her from his body. “No! You’ll destroy me anyway. I still need to--”

Even from the back of his own mind, Kaden felt the pain rip through him. It was enough, it could be enough if he just pushed. His body toppled, collapsed in a pile of limbs. But it was his again. For now. “It’s me!” he shouted. “She’s out, she’s--” He almost said gone. But that wasn’t right. She was still there just not inside of his body. For now. It was only a matter of time. He needed Rebecca to hurry up. Even if he made it to the salt circle, it was broken; line split by the scuff of a shoe.

Rebecca stumbled back when Kaden’s shouted. It was him again. She forced her hands away, took all the energy she had, and shoved the Dybbuk back. I’ll never let go. But she ignored him. She needed to finish this. Drawing in a deep breath, she brandished her dagger again, gripping the hilt. “This is gonna hurt,” she said to Kaden, knowing he would accept the pain. Because it was what they did. It was what Theo would do. She nodded once before opening her mouth and bellowing the rest of the exorcism, calling on the energy of the universe to draw the spirit back into it. To take her away. To dispose of her anger and her soul and to recycle her back into the ether. Speaking in her ancient people’s language, feeling the power swell through her, watching as the spirit was torn from Kaden’s body. A tinge of jealousy in her heart. If only it were that easy.

Kaden didn’t need to be told it would hurt. Nothing in his life came pain free. Why would this? He nodded and braced himself, but of his countless near death experiences, not one could prepare him for this. He could feel his mother’s spirit clawing into him, trying to hold on with every bit of rage and vice she had. He could also feel Rebecca’s words drawing it out. If he could be torn from the inside out he was sure it felt like this. The flashes of thoughts he could manage through the blistering pain were all hers, the last ones he’d hear. You’re not my son, deserter, traitor, and filthy disgrace all rang through his head while he screamed and crumbled to the ground. The anger felt like daggers as it was pulled out from him. Every drop of rage like another pin prick. He kept wailing and clawed his fist into the ground, fighting to stay grounded, to keep himself there while she went away. When it was over, he folded over his hands and tried to breathe. The memory of the pain was like an aftershock he couldn’t shake right away. Bile rose up in his throat and he gulped it back. Not now. Not yet, at least. Maybe when she left. “Is it… Is it over?” he asked, shaking a little as he leaned on his hands. “What happened? You--” he looked up at her, trying to figure out what went wrong, hoping a glance could explain it all.

The world always stilled just before it happened. Rebecca, momentarily frozen in her own little pocket, watched as the spirit of Lauren Langley, full formed and floating above her son, glowered down at them with angry eyes. Such ire. She wondered if it had always been there, or if her decades as a spirit had multiplied the anger she’d felt in her life. She wondered if Theo would ever look at her like this. And then reality snapped back, and her spirit disintegrated before her eyes, and the room was still once again. Furniture was upturned and askew, the floor was covered in ash and paper shreds, a scorch mark from where the vengeful spirit had been summoned and let her anger spill over. The salt circle broken, scattered. Kaden’s voice was small, unsteady, and she looked down at him, shaking with her own exhaustion. She held out a hand to him, the brand on her arm burning. “Spirits often think they’re stronger than us,” she said quietly, “they’re wrong, of course.” She helped him stand. “You did good.”

Kaden took a moment to make sure all the bile was back down before taking her hand to stand up. He really hated how apt Blanche’s stupid phrase was, but he did in fact feel like used jell-o all over again. “Thanks. Didn’t feel like--” He cut himself short and looked in her eye. “Thanks,” he told her sincerely. Even if he could finally feel the full weight of what he’d just done starting to creep in. The tightness in his chest, the lump in his throat. God, he was so sick of feeling this raw and juts hurt and empty. He could hear Abel in the other room barking his head off. Probably had been almost the whole time, but there was too much going on for him to notice. He breathed a small sigh of relief knowing he was alright. He was sure Abel was going to love having a salty, sobbed ruff again tonight. Kaden took a glance around the room, unsure what to do next. “I-- How do you normally, uh, clean up? All this?”

He looked worn. And shitty. And Rebecca knew that, even though it was over, it would never really be over. She knew how words from loved ones hung in the air and stung. She knew how losing someone, even if they weren’t cruel and unjust, burned in the back of your mind. She understood. It wasn’t something to be solved in a night or in one exorcism. Without the ever present looming of his mother, surely now he would be facing the consequences of his actions. And of hers. The trail of destruction she’d surely left because that was the way of the world. That was the fate of all spirits who linger for too long and took too much. She turned to face the room, a disaster in its own right. Sighing, she looked over her shoulder back at him. “Tediously,” was all she answered.

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Happy Mother’s Day - Leo x Isabella

A short story for all the mama’s out there! ❤️ A sugary sweet story for a Sunday

@drakewalkerfantasy @lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @desireepow-1986 @liam-rhys @rainbowsinthestorm​ 

Quietly creeping into their parents room, Alessandra and Natalia tiptoed across the plush carpets towards their father’s side of the bed, the two four year old princesses were so excited to celebrate Mother’s Day and give Isabella her present from them. Leo had promised that he would help them make her a special Mother’s Day breakfast. “Papa” they whispered to him, as he snored, “Wake up...” The twins looked at each other unimpressed as their father didn’t answer, laying there at the edge of the bed as Isabella starfished out. “Papa!” They said a little louder, Alessandra being brave, shoved him slightly. With a snort, Leo opened his eyes wearily; slightly jumping as he saw his two daughters standing in front of him, both pulling on his muscular arm as hard as they could, “Come on!!”

Leo looked over his shoulder watching as Isabella continued to sleep before returning his attention to the girls placing his index finger across his lips, “Shush...” before he chuckled lowly, “Ok... ok... I’m up... we need to be very quiet though...” both girls nodded excitedly as Leo carefully draped the duvet back across her exposed shoulders as he got out of bed before he fixed the waistband of his pyjama pants that rested on his hips. Groggily, he followed the girls out of the room before picking them both up into his arms to carry them towards the kitchen, “You two never heard of a sleep in?” Leo quickly chuckled as they made their way through the eerily quiet Laurentian Palace. Leo had given everyone the day off to be at home with their families and to give the young Royal family some well deserved space.

“So what should we make mama today?” Leo cooed as his daughters draped their arms around his neck, “Cake!” Natalia exclaimed excitedly, Alessandra following with “Chocolate Cake!” both of their eyes widening in excitement at the thought of eating cake for breakfast. Leo began to laugh heartily, “I don’t think your mama would be too happy with us making chocolate cake for breakfast...” The little Princesses began to pout threatening a meltdown but all Leo could do was smile at their attempt, “But we can make one for mama later, is that ok?” Those two little madams had Leo wrapped around their little fingers; whatever they wanted, he would always find a way to make it happen but for now, he was concentrating on making breakfast. To placate the young Princesses further and his wife for the potential mess that was going to happen, he placed Alessandra and Natalia onto the ground before pointing over to the other side of the kitchen, “Papa will make pancakes if you both go and make mama her Mother’s Day cards over at the table...”

The Princesses happily drew on the pre-folded cards that Leo set out the evening before decorating them with glitter crayons and stickers as he began to mix up the crêpe batter. He chuckled to himself as he watched his girls colour in their cards with such concentration realising how much his life had changed for the better. Never in a million years did the former Crown Prince of Cordonia believe he would become domesticated and here he was washing and chopping up fresh fruit and making french press coffee. “Papa!!” Natalia shouted as they heard a quiet knock to the kitchen entrance, Leo allowed them to go to the door where a woman stood holding two bouquets of long stem red roses. “Good Morning... Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses... as you requested, the bouquets have been dethorned” The woman smiled warmly as she passed one bouquet to Natalia and the other to Alessandra. “Lia and Sasha... what do you say to the nice lady?” They both were a little shy, looking up to the florist with their glittering hazel eyes, “Gracias... thank you...”

With breakfast made and two excitable four year olds, Leo pushed the trolley as quietly as he could whilst Sasha and Lia followed behind him holding their bouquets of roses and each of them had a red leather box with their card that they held on so tightly to. As Leo looked behind him, his heart melted watching the two little Princesses concentrating so hard not to drop anything and he was so proud of them for wanting to make today special for their mama. With a gentle knock on their bedroom door, Leo opened it and allowed the girls to go first smiling as they ran to annoy their mother from her slumber. “Mama!!” They giggled in chorus, “Wake up, wake up Mama!!” Isabella slowly pulled herself up, propping herself against her multiple soft pillows smiling before leaning down and kissing them both “...Hola mis amores...” Isabella’s eyes widened with excitement, “What is all of this?”

As the twins passed Isabella the flowers, present and most importantly their cards, she happily lifted up her daughters into her and Leo’s super king size bed, cuddling them as Alessandra and Natalia were wrapped up underneath the covers as Isabella kissed the crown on the top of their heads before her dark chocolate brown eyes caught a very shirtless, muscle bound Leo which drew her eyes to his defined six pack. “Buenos días mi amor...” Isabella cooed as a coy smile spread across her lips, “Something smells amazing...” Leo dutifully served his three leading ladies their crêpe pancakes with strawberries and blueberries. Leo began to laugh heartily as he sat on top of the covers by Isabella’s legs, “It’s not hard to know where they get their sweet tooth from...” before taking a sip of his long awaited and well deserved cup of strong, black coffee.

Once Isabella and the twins finished their food, the twins began to fight between themselves of whose present Isabella would open first whilst trying to open the other one on her behalf. “Girls...” Leo spoke calmly with a firm tone, “Let mama open her presents... both of them are special... have patience...” Isabella opened both of the red leather Cartier boxes placing them onto the duvet as she smiled, staring at the two identical gold bracelets adorned with diamonds. Her almond shaped eyes narrowed slightly as she grinned, picking up each bracelet and noticing each of them were engraved with each daughters name before placing them onto her right arm. Isabella carefully closed the boxes, setting them on her nightstand before she leaned down to give Leo a gentle kiss to say thank you. Placing her hand delicately at the side of his cheek, the petite brunette placed her lips against his softly.

With a smirk as Isabella sat back, Leo cleared his throat, “I think mama has forgotten something... Sasha... Lia... Where are your cards?” Both of the little Princesses fumbled around, until they found their handmade cards, “Mira mama...” Leo cooed, “The girls got up extra early to make you cards... it was their idea to make today special for you...” Isabella put her arms around her daughters, giving them an extra big squeeze and cuddle, “Thank you my darlings for such a wonderful surprise!” The young Queen felt her eyes becoming hazy, blinking back the tears she felt coming. It always hit Isabella the hardest when she was able to have intimate moments with her family, just like this; it was those strands of normality that she craved which made everything else all so much more worthwhile.

With big yawns after all the excitement of the morning, Leo put the girls back to bed, returning to find his beautiful wife grinning from ear to ear as she smelt the long stemmed roses that she was gifted. With a smirk, Leo climbed into bed beside the gorgeous brunette. “Good morning beautiful...” he cooed into her ear as his lips barely grazed her neck. His hands wandered pulling up the ruby red silk chemise that lay against Isabella’s thigh towards her waist. “The girls are asleep... and we’ve got some time alone...” he whispered, “We should take advantage of that...” peppering Isabella’s neck and shoulder with kisses. With a raised brow, she sighed heavily, her shoulders dropped and began to count backwards, “5....4....3....2....” and right on queue, there the twins were back again running through the room with their dolls. Leo groaned as Isabella began to laugh, “You jinxed it mi amor...” Leo kissed her cheek gently, “Raincheck?” Smiling Isabella cooed, “Always...”

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (ch 11/?)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121633/chapters/61459765

I thought I was going to throw up.

My nerves were already bad enough even before I got into the police car, but as I sat in the back with Kunikida, our driver rushing us towards the nearest police station, every jostle and bump in the road made the bile rise higher and higher in the back of my throat. I turned to look at Kunikida, who was sitting one seat over from me by the other window and wondered how he could look so calm.

After we had identified the corpse as Taneda Mayu, the second woman reported missing, given her clothes and whatever identifiable features remained, I’d been given all of two minutes to finish freaking out before Kunikida pushed me towards the nearest police vehicle and joined me inside. Now that Mayu had been found, the police needed to complete the autopsy and call her parents for identification; since we were still officially helping the police on this investigation, Kunikida and I would be joining them.

Normally, we wouldn’t be allowed to stick our noses this far into an official investigation but Kunikida somehow managed to convince the police that we needed to talk to Mayu’s family before they delivered the bad news. They would let us borrow an interview room for a few minutes and there, I would need to activate my Ability and see if I could use my visions to learn something—anything—that could lead us to Mayu’s killer. Hopefully, I would see something important enough that would allow us to save the others before it was too late. If Mayu’s body had already turned up, then there was a possibility that Suzuki Yoshiko, victim number one, was also dead already too and that the other missing women would follow shortly if we didn’t hurry.

But there were several problems with this plan.

I never had full control of my Ability in the past, was terrified of activating it for the past several months to a year and I hadn’t even tried using it since joining the Agency. In fact, the very last person I had been in physical contact with was Dazai, which meant nothing considering his Ability nullified mine before it could even activate.

President Fukuzawa had said I should have control of it by now and Atsushi had mentioned the side effects being less severe but since I hadn’t tried using my Ability again since joining the Agency, I still didn’t have any idea to what degree either of these statements would be true. Sure my eyes looked normal again but would that be it? Would touching the Tanedas still result in nausea, dizziness, debilitating headaches or possibly even blacking out? Or would I see things from the perspective of someone who couldn’t give me any useful information?

Or worse... would I be forced to witness yet another death?

We hit another pothole and I slapped my hand over my mouth.

From his side of the vehicle, Kunikida glanced at me.

“Carsick?”

Not trusting myself to answer, I nodded weakly.

“I see.”

He pointed out the window, at the streetlights we were passing as they flickered on one by one. The sun was starting to set.

“Try counting the lights. We can’t roll down the windows back here but this might distract you. If it makes you feel better, we’re almost there.”

In the light of the setting sun, his gray-green eyes looked softer than usual.

“You can do this, Kusunoki. I believe in you.”

Nodding again, less hesitantly this time, I returned my attention to the outside and started counting. As the sky darkened and night began to fall, I began to see my face and the inside of the car reflected more clearly on the darkened glass of the window. I could see Kunikida, sitting there by the other window in the back seat, flicking through his phone with his arm propped up against the door and his long legs crossed in front of him. He looked slightly uncomfortable because of the hard seats and the overall lack of room (he was a hundred eighty-nine centimeters tall, after all), but other than that, he seemed completely at peace. And for some reason, seeing how calm Kunikida was as he sat there made me feel calmer as well.

As the car slowed to a gradual stop in front of the police station, I realized my nausea had long since faded away.

***

Kunikida shut the door behind us as the fluorescent lights clicked on overhead.

The interview room was warm and well-lit, with a couple of leafy plants in one corner and a set of filing cabinets in another. In the center of the room was a single, simple wooden desk with two chairs on either side; two were for us, and two were for Taneda Mayu’s parents, both of whom would be coming for this interview.

The nerves that had faded away on the car ride over came back with a vengeance as I realized that while I’d seen dead bodies before, this would be the very first time I had to meet with the relatives of someone who had passed—my first time seeing such grief in person. I was about to turn to Kunikida to ask how he dealt with it when the door opened once again and an older couple walked in.

My breath stilled in my lungs as I looked upon the woman’s face, which would have been an exact copy of her daughter Mayu’s over twenty years ago. Like her daughter, she was quite tall for a Japanese woman and had large, expressive brown eyes. Her husband, a man with a head of delightfully curly black hair, stood just a little shorter than her, but he kept one hand out to hold hers as they slowly came towards the desk where Kunikida and I would be interviewing them. Both the Tanedas were kind-faced and polite and as we bowed across the room to each other, I realized that they had no idea what they were about to hear.

My stomach clenched painfully as I heard the hopefulness in Mr. Taneda’s voice.

“Detectives,” he stated, his voice quavering a little as he looked from me to Kunikida. “Thank you for your hard work. We came as soon as we could.”

Kunikida nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

He gestured to the table and all four of us sat.

As Mrs. Taneda gingerly took her seat, I saw her knobby hand grip the armrest gently and my pulse went up the moment I saw her bare hands. To steady myself, I took a deep breath in and tried to put what I hoped was a polite smile on my face. I quickly stopped when I realized it must look more like a grimace.

“We called you here because we’d like to go over some things with you once more,” Kunikida explained, his back straight and his tone professional.

Shooting me a quick, meaningful glance, he put his elbows on the table and leaned forward a little, as if asking me to copy him. When I didn’t move, however, he pulled a photograph out of one of the police folders and slid it across the table towards the Taneda’s, throwing me another look as he did so. Very slowly and very hesitantly, I also put my arms up on the table, my bare fingers slightly outstretched.

“This is a copy of one of the photos you gave the police recently, correct?” Kunikida asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Taneda said, smiling a little as she glanced down at the picture. “This was taken a couple months ago, at a family gathering. She really loved that dress.”

“And that bracelet,” Mr. Taneda said, pointing to Mayu’s wrist in the photograph. “She insisted it was too much for us to give her something so expensive but she earned it. She did just start her new nursing job, after all.”

His fingers lingered on the photograph as he passed it back to us and I realized I had an opportunity to touch his hand.

But for some reason, I couldn’t move.

It’ll only be for a second. Maybe even less. A single brush will do it.

Mr. Taneda took his hand off the photograph and withdrew it and before I could bring myself to even try, my chance was already gone. I could feel Kunikida’s eyes on me but I wouldn’t look at him.

I felt, rather than heard, his sigh.

“Okay. I know this question has been asked before but I’d like to just confirm it,” Kunikida continued, not a trace of tension in his voice, “To our knowledge, you were the last people to see Mayu that afternoon when she went out for a tennis game?”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Taneda said. “She was supposed to meet a friend at a rec center between our house and the friend’s, but her friend said she never arrived and called us instead.”

“She didn’t have a tracking feature on her cell phone but it appears she at least got to this station,” Kunikida said, returning to the map and holding it such that all four of us could hang onto it if needed. “At least, that’s what our latest information indicates.”

He wasn’t lying; that information had literally just been handed to us as we’d walked in this room. Kunikida pointed to a spot not far from where Mayu had been reported missing. It was a train station that connected to the line that ran right by Saeki Mei’s place of work: the convenience store. I stared at it, and then looked back up at Kunikida, who was not looking at me but at the Tanedas in front of us.

I could tell he was just buying me enough time to try to attempt a touch (he knew how little time I actually needed) but try as I might, I just couldn’t bring myself to move. I could barely even breathe.

“Any idea on possible routes she might’ve taken? Stores or cafes she liked to drop by near this area?”

As the Tanedas leaned in to study the map, I saw that there were wrinkles on one corner of the map. Without thinking about it too hard, I reached forward and went to smooth it out, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Taneda reach out as well; it seemed she had the same idea. If I just let my hand collide with hers for a moment, I would have what I needed.

Time seemed to slow.

Our fingertips were but centimeters apart.

But at the last minute, I looked up into Mrs. Taneda’s face...

...And saw Mayu’s dead, bloated face flipping over in the river, her sunken eyes boring into mine.

“NO!!”

I pushed back away from the table, nearly knocking over the table as I fell back in my seat, the metal chair I’d just been sitting in crashing to the ground with me in it. I scrambled to my feet to see the Tanedas looking just as terrified as I had been a moment earlier. Kunikida...

I froze.

I had seen him looking angry at Dazai before but nothing prepared me for the sheer fury I saw in his eyes. I looked away and ducked for the chair.

“I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry—” I stammered, bowing hastily as I picked it up with shaking hands.

But before I could upright the chair, Kunikida’s hand descended on my shoulder.

His hand never leaving my shoulder, I felt him pick up the chair next to me and instantly set it on the ground in one smooth motion. The legs scrunched up against the carpet just enough for me to hear it as it settled and before I could move away, his grip on my shoulder tightened considerably.

“I’m very sorry about this but could you please excuse us for a moment?”

His voice might’ve still been gentle and professional but I could tell that Kunikida was barely holding it in.

“Kusunoki?”

His glasses flashed as he turned to me.

“Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

***

The door crashed shut behind us and I winced.

“What are you doing?” Kunikida snapped. His voice echoed off the walls of the interrogation room the police officers had lent us, making me feel like I was the suspect in our kidnapping-turned-murder case.

“What the hell happened back there?!”

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, bowing because I had no idea what else to do. “I don’t know what came over me. I—I tried to reach out to touch Taneda-san but then she looked up and I saw Mayu and—”

“Mayu is not here,” Kunikida stated. “Her mother is. I know they look alike but you need to think about the person in front of you and the case we’re trying to solve. Don’t lose focus.”

“I... I know,” I stammered, clutching my arms to my sides.

I was shaking.

“I... I just need a minute. I haven’t used my Ability in so long and I don’t want to see another corpse—”

“You don’t want to see another corpse, huh?”

Kunikida’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

“Do you think any of us want to see another corpse?”

I heard the click of footsteps and looked up to see him advancing on me, a steely glint in his eye.

“Let me remind you, Kusunoki-kun,” he growled, “that Taneda Mayu is one of four—no, five—women who have gone missing within the last ten weeks. If we don’t solve this case fast, we are going to be fishing many more bodies out of Yokohama’s canals within the next several weeks, I guarantee it.”

He was right. There would be more.

And one of them would be Mei-chan...

As I thought about the girl at the convenience store with the long, black ponytail, the one who had been so nice to me that she’d cheered me up after a long hard day, Kunikida’s tall figure slowly disappeared behind a panel of rippled glass. I felt something cold on my face when I blinked and realized they were tears.

I quickly reached up to wipe them away just as I heard Kunikida’s voice again. He sounded more tired than stern.

“Get it together, Kusunoki.”

His large hands descended upon my shoulders again and I looked up through the spaces between my fingers to see him looking down at me from his considerable height.

“Listen to me. Taneda Mayu was killed very recently—within the last several days, the officer said. She was the second to go missing, which means there are still three—no, four—missing women who could still be found and saved, including your friend Mei.”

His hands were heavier than ever on my shoulders but his voice had softened a little. I put down my hands so I could better see his face.

“I know you’re scared of what you’re going to see,” Kunikida said quietly. “I am too, but I know you can do this. I brought you on this case because I know—because I have seen what you’re capable of. Stop letting your fear get the better of you and stop running away from your own Ability!”

He gritted his teeth and his grip tightened on my shoulders.

Kunikida looked like he was in pain and I was the one who had done this to him. I felt something constrict around my heart.

“Kunikida-san...?”

“When you asked me to let you join the Agency,” Kunikida whispered, his sage-colored eyes never leaving my face, “You said you wanted to help people. Is that still true or not?”

He may not have shouted but in the silence following his words, his voice echoed around the room.

“Is that still true or not?”

“It is...” I answered, my voice barely audible even to myself. “I want to save Mei-chan. I have to save her...”

“Then save her,” Kunikida said, squeezing my shoulders so tightly that they almost went numb. “Bring back the Kusunoki Kyou who ran back inside the art gallery to try to help me. Bring back the girl who tried to fight off Yasha Shirayuki with a pair of office scissors.”

His voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear it.

“Bring back the girl I vouched for when Dazai said she had potential.”

My shaking hands stilled at last.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. We were standing so close to each other that I could see my face reflected in Kunikida’s glasses. My eyes were red and I was still crying but I no longer looked scared.

Because I no longer felt scared.

Kunikida was right. I needed to stop running away. Both he and Dazai had vouched for me and I had passed the test; I was a member of the Armed Detective Agency now and I needed to start acting like one. If I didn’t stop running away now, then when would I? A year? Two years? More? If I continued to let my fears and anxieties make my decisions for me, I’d be right back where I started: hiding away in a cheap studio apartment, spending my days idling away with nothing to do but wait for my life to someday end.

This stopped now.

I let out a loud, undignified sniffle and started wiping my face again. When Kunikida let go of me and started backing away, I called out to him.

“It’s okay.”

I gave one last sniff, wiping my face with the tissue he awkwardly handed to me and blew my nose.

“How embarrassing of me...”

Kunikida was right. I was better than this. I should know that better than anyone, having risked life and limb to join the Agency, to gain control of my powers. I had to learn to face up to my fears if I was going to save Mei and the others... and if I were to become anything like Kunikida and the other detectives at the Agency.

I put away the tissue, took in a deep breath and straightened up.

Even at my full height, I was still a full head shorter than Kunikida but he was looking at me as if I stood taller than I was.

“Thank you, Kunikida-san. I’m fine now.”

I pushed past him and went to the door. When I had the thin handle of the doorknob in my grip, I turned to him and smiled. I could feel resolve burning in my chest.

“I’m going to save Mei-chan. I’m going to save all of them. And I’m going to touch as many hands as I need to do it.”

Kunikida crossed his arms over his chest.

“Good.”

***

“Sorry about that,” I said as I sat back down in my chair. “I thought I saw a uh... spider...”

“Oh, it’s okay!” Mrs. Taneda murmured, putting her hand over her mouth. “Are you alright?”

“I am,” I said hastily, hoping to move on from my stupid, made-up lie.

Even worse than the lie was the fact that Mrs. Taneda kind of reminded me of my own mother, and lying to my own mother had never been easy...

“But more importantly, we should finish up. I’m sorry we had to bring you here so abruptly, I’m sure you have things to do this evening.”

As I sat, Kunikida closed the door to the room and the puff of air lifted the map off the table and onto the floor.

“Oh!”

At once, Mrs. Taneda and I both reached for it and this time, I didn’t shy away from physical contact. A couple of fingers touched and although nothing happened at first, the moment I closed my eyes, an image washed over me...

I am in an old apartment complex. The door is open. Several people are inside the main living area. There, in the corner of the room, is a small shrine, a photo of Taneda Mayu framed in black sitting inside the wooden box. There is a bowl of incense, some oranges and a tiny teddy bear placed before the photo. These were all Mayu’s favorite things.

I smile and lay down one final item the detectives managed to recover from the killer’s home: a thin, silvery bracelet, the one Mayu had never taken off since the moment we bought it for her.

I do hope Mayu doesn’t mind that I kept it for her shrine. It was too late to bury her with it...

I clap my hands together and pray before the image, recalling my daughter’s laugh and her cheerful voice. Tears run down my face as I feel my husband walk up behind me and join me in prayer...

I heard someone clearing their throat loudly behind me and I realized it was Kunikida, I was still in the interview office and Mrs. Taneda had meekly retracted her hand. I couldn’t have been out that long but my fingers had definitely lingered long enough for the situation to get awkward. Shaking my head abruptly, I snapped back the map and rubbed my eyes.

I could feel a slight headache coming on but interestingly enough, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been the last time, when I’d seen that vision of Mrs. Yamazaki. Atsushi was right. The side effects really were becoming less severe...!

“Sorry. I think I fell asleep for a second.”

The name of the condition finally came back to me and I tried to force a laugh.

“I actually have narcolepsy...”

The Tanedas looked a little concerned so I sat back in the chair and gave the map back to Kunikida, who seemed to have understood what happened. He could tell from the look in my eyes that I’d seen something but wasn’t sure how useful it might be.

I faced Mr. Taneda and tried to think of a way to pull myself out of the vision once I was in. Kunikida making a noise definitely worked but how could I get myself out of it? I wouldn’t always be working with a partner on these assignments in the future and I had to learn how to do this on my own. Somehow, I would need to be able to move my own body or make it react while I was still occupied looking through someone else’s eyes, at another time. In a flash, it came to me.

I needed something heavy I could drop...

I put my messenger bag, the one I’d been carrying with me everywhere since starting my job at the Agency, on the corner of the table. Then, I looked around for something I could comment on, some way to get Mr. Taneda to lean forward a little more. I didn’t think reaching for a dropped item would work twice; it might look a little strange and I’d come across as even more unprofessional than before. To avoid arousing suspicion, I enlisted Kunikida’s help.

“By the way, Kunikida-san, what time is it?”

Raising one eyebrow, he lifted his watch up off the table.

“It’s six-thirty one.”

“You sure about that?”

I pointed to Mr. Taneda’s watch, a small, digital device that wrapped loosely around his wrist.

“I think yours is running a little fast. Look at Taneda-san’s watch.”

As both men leaned forward to compare, I subtly touched the tips of my fingers to Mr. Taneda’s wrist, taking care not to touch Kunikida’s (I wasn’t sure I could handle two people at once). This time, when I felt the pull, like I was circling a large drain, I was ready and I bumped into the table leg so that my bag would fall to the ground. I had two seconds before the sound of my stuff hitting the floor would wake me up...

I am walking in the streets. It’s mid-afternoon judging by where the sun is in the sky. I’m following the river where she was found…

I pass several benches, a train station, a rec center.

I’m not sure how much longer I will walk until I see it, the place where those two detectives pulled my Mayu out of the river.

How did it come to this? How did she end up so far from home? Why here?

I throw a flower into the water and watch the current take it away...

I hear the thud of my backpack hitting the floor and I pull my hands away. My head was starting to spin. Judging from Kunikida’s reaction, my actions were well-timed and I smiled softly and thanked Mr. Taneda for allowing me to check the time. As if on cue, one of the police officers we’d rode up to the station with rapped at the door and opened it. Kunikida looked to me and I met his gaze for the briefest of moments before I nodded to the officer.

“Would you like to speak to the Taneda family? We’re actually done.”

I bowed hastily to the old couple, thanked them for their time and walked out the door, Kunikida hot on my heels. I stumbled the moment I got out of the room and Kunikida grabbed onto my elbow to keep me steady.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, putting my hand over my eyes as the dizziness suddenly got worse.

“What did you see?” Kunikida whispered as we stood in the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly overhead.

“Not much,” I admitted and I relayed everything to him as best I could. Kunikida nodded and thought to himself as I tried to steady myself on my feet. Still feeling weak, I finally lifted up my head and he clapped me on the shoulder and nodded approvingly.

“We’ll have to keep investigating but I think we can call it a night for now. Nice work.”

“Thanks. Uh, Kunikida-san? Where’s the restroom?”

As soon as he pointed down the hall, I pushed past him but it was too late. I had only walked about two feet before I leaned over and puked right on the floor.

Kunikida winced.

“How about I take you home, Kusunoki-kun...?”

[brain-rott]

Holiday Heroes

Pairing: BNHA X Reader 

Characters:  Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima, Kaminari

Description: The Holidays are upon you and with it comes celebrations. Headcannons on how everyone spends their time preparing for the season.

Rating: PG

Midoriya 

It was christmas eve and he had the brilliant idea to make gingerbread houses after having overheard you talking about it a few days prior. He had slipped away from you the next day to run into town and get a few of those kits and a few extras for your soon to be built town. Walking out into the kitchen you were surprised to see Midoriya standing there with the biggest grin on his face clearly hiding something behind his back. Giving him a confused look he side steps to reveal a neatly laid out counter of gingerbread house materials. Little bowls of gumdrops and sprinkles, tiny gummy reindeer to populate your town and far too many bags of icing. Your excitement was soon overwhelming as you both got right to work constructing. Having had years of practice under your belt you were already decorating your first house with gumdrops and candy canes when you looked over to see Midoriya… struggling more or less. 

“Izuku your gingerbread house looks more like a… gingerbread pile.” you commented, trying to hold back your laughter as the walls of his house collapsed as soon as he took his hands off. 

“I-It's just not working for me.” Midoriya huffed clearly a bit embarrassed. Stepping back from your station you walked around the counter to join Midoriya as you carefully disassembled his pile and wiped the pieces clean so you could start anew. 

“Less is more when it comes to icing.” You explain as you carefully draw a line of white frosting down the side of one of the walls before firmly planting it onto the cardboard base. “See!” You announced joyfully as the long standing wall. Deku smiled and laughed as you both set to work on your house. Midoriya focused mainly on the decoration while you did the construction lining the shingles of the roof with icing before paving a walkway which he promptly covered in cookie crumbs and sprinkles. 

You two spent the rest of the afternoon adding the final touches before setting them out on display in the commons on a side table. You and Izuku had stepped back to take in all your hard work when Kirishima and Denki swooped in and immediately decapitated your gingerbread family that had been innocently posed outside. You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as the two boys gave you a guilty look Midoryia sighing in defeat.

Bakugo 

As soon as it was suggested that the dorm hold a party for the holidays Bakugo was immediately up in arms about the whole thing. Despite your pleading he wouldn’t budge on the issue even going as far to question you as to why you would be so excited to hang out with a bunch of ‘extras’. There was only an hour left before the part and you were all dressed and ready to go. You purposefully planned to leave early in an attempt to go and speak to Bakugo one last time hoping he had changed his mind. You made your way up to his room stopping before his door. Straightening out your Santa outfit you pulled on your hat to make sure it was snugly in place before knocking on the blonde’s door. A loud “Go away!” was his oh so charming reply. With a sigh you knock again though with a bit more force this time. A moment passed and there was no response. 

“Bakugo, please come with me to the party. You don't have to stay long just come and hang out for a few minutes?” You asked the sadness at having to spend the holidays alone evident in your tone. You were just about to turn and give up when the door flew open and there stood Bakugo in some track pants and a t-shirt giving you a once over before snorting loudly. 

“Ten minutes then I'm coming back to my room.” He announced as you smiled up at him over joyed. Taking his hand you practically skipped to the elevator the white poof on the end of your hat bouncing with each step. 

You both settled in quickly as things started to kick off. Food and presents were exchanged all with minimal outbursts from the blonde who was content to just sit beside you and offer an occasional remark on whatever you were conversing about at the time. You couldn’t do anything to hide the smile on your face with how he threw his arm over the couch behind your shoulders. ‘Tis the season’ you thought merrily as Bakugo began to berate you for having a goofy smile on your face again. 

Todoroki 

With the party happening so soon you were given the duty of collecting decorations for the others to put up in the commons. After asking around the school you were eventually pointed in the direction of the storage closets in the basement of the dorms. Being a hero you really should not have been so off put by such a simple task but taking one look into the black eerie abyss that was the dormitory basement you immediately gathered the courage to leave and return with back up. Thankfully as you were walking inside you caught Todoroki on his way inside as well. You called out to him as you approached waving your arm in an attempt to flag him down. He greeted you with a smile as you laughed awkwardly knowing what you were about to say maybe a little embarrassing. 

“If your not busy right now Todoroki would you mind coming with me to get ornaments out of the basement? It’s really dark and I don't want to go down alone…” you admitted unable to look him in the eyes as you rushed out the last part. You felt your cheeks flush as he laughed looking down at you clearly amused. 

“How can you be scared of the dark if you're going to be a hero?” Todoroki questioned

“Look It is scary down there I can show you!” You quickly retorted as you grabbed his hand and lead him off towards the basement entrance. Once there you flung open the door and pointed accusatorily at the dark hall before you both. Todoroki didn't hesitate as he walked forward into the darkness pulling out his phone as he went the light illuminating the long hall. 

“Do you know which room has the ornaments?”

“Fourth door on the left.” You instructed following Todorokis lead closely silently worried something might sneak up behind you in the dark. Todoroki stopped suddenly and being so focused on watching behind you for monsters you walked right into him. Before you could mutter out an apology Todoroki pulled open the door and walked in leaving you to scramble after him. 

“Look for the box that says holiday on it. It should be about yay big.” You explained motioning the size with your arms as you began to rummage through the countless boxes and bins. You felt like an eternity had passed before Todoroki let out a loud “A-ha!” Holding a fairly large sized bin aloft. 

“Great work!” You smiled as he handed off his phone to you as he hefted the box up into his arms. 

“It’s heavy so I’ll carry it. You just focus on not scaring yourself as you lead us out of here.” You frowned as he smirked down at you stomping out of the room grumbling about how it's perfectly normal to not like the dark. You safely escaped the dark throws of the basement slamming the door shut with a confident finality as you both made your way back upstairs to the common room where the others had already started setting up decorations and props and even a small gingerbread town. 

“Thanks for helping Todoroki i’ll let Uraraka know where the ornaments are for tomorrow.”

“You know you are going to have to put them back in the basement when your done with them right?” At this dawning realization your face blanched realizing that was the bleak truth. 

“Text me and I’ll go with you again wouldn’t want you to get scared after all.” He said softly and genuinely. You laughed, mostly at yourself, as you smiled up at him. 

“Or protect me from monsters.” You joked overjoyed when he let out a small chuckle 

“Or protect you from monsters.” he agreed before you were whisked away to begin helping the kitchen prep food. 

Kirishima

You had some things to take care of that morning so you left the job of decorating your room for the holidays in the hands of your best friend and crush Kirishima. He had been sending you update photos through class as he worked on unpacking your box of decorations and slowly placing them around your room and hanging them about. You were on your way back from class to your dorm to see how he had done when you got a picture of him smiling while sitting on your bed with the caption ‘I have a surprise for you when you get here.’. Now that was an easy way to make you worry as to what he had gotten into or up to. Hurrying up to your dorm you had to shout out a quick apology as you almost ran over Todoroki on his way into the dorms beside you. Storming up the stairs to your room you all but kicked the door open to see Kirishima standing there smiling at your innocently. 

“Are you ready for your surprise.” Kirishima said his smile never faltering as he stepped side and proudly presented a tiny Christmas tree in the corner of your room decorated in your bracelets and a few watches that where clearly his own. Though what really caught your eye where the various stones surrounding the bottom of the tree. 

“You did great on the room Kirishima but when Brenda Lee said rock around the Christmas tree she didn’t mean literally.” You snorted walking over to pick up one of the stones and confirmed that it was indeed a whole ass rock. 

“I thought it looked rustic…” Kirishima said with a soft sigh of defeat. You couldn't help but laugh as you set the stone back onto your floor and shook your head. 

“They can stay for now, Though the only rock I was hoping to have for Christmas was you.” At this comment Kirishima immediately returned to his overly exuberant and happy self as he almost tackled you as he pulled you into a hug. 

Kaminari 

With the Christmas party only hours away you had received a few frantic texts asking you to put up the lights while everyone else made a last minute run to get some things they had forgotten. Being the good friend you are you of course agreed to help out. Though you certainly weren’t going to be able to accomplish this task alone so you looked to Kaminari for help who was busying himself with videos while you struggled to untangle strands of lights. 

“Kaminari if you aren’t busy right now could you please help me? We gotta get this done before everyone gets back-” 

“I don't think I remember Uraraka asking me to put the lights up though.” He teased still engrossed in his game to even look back at you. 

“Denki please It’ll only take a second to untangle these then you can go back to your game.” You explained feeling a little desperate for help as you didn't want to disappoint your friends. Though Kaminari’s indifference to your suffering was getting very grating on your already strained nerves. 

“Kaminari-” Again you were cut short when he promptly shot up from his seat exclaiming in excitement as he won his round and was immediately booted to the next. Entirely fed up and feeling emotional exhausted you huffed. 

“Fine! I’ll put up the lights all by MYSELF.” You snapped roughly grabbing the box of lights and stomping to the other side of the room, fuming. ‘Who does he think he is? Freeloading off of everyone else's hard work…’ you grumbled internally as you aggressively ripped at the strands of lights no longer caring if they may break or not. 

Kaminari immediately took notice in your change of mood and felt awful knowing he was the cause of it. What he had meant as harmless teasing turned into something much worse. Switching off his game he slowly walked over to join you cautiously picking up a discarded strand of lights and joining you in your decoration effort. 

You had yet to notice him as you raged on tossing the strands of lights about as you had actually managed to fish out and untangle two hole strands when you felt his hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you before, do you want me to hang them up while you untangle them?” Kaminari offered quickly realizing you were much better at this than him as the strand in his hand was far worse now than when he had picked it up. “At least then we can still have this done in time for everyone else.”

You took a deep breath letting your shoulders slump before turning to answer him. 

“Sure that sounds like a good idea.” You said offering him a small smile. Confidence now returned to him from your improving mood Kaminari snatched the box of tacks from the bin and made off with the first strand of lights. Before you knew it, you were already working on the last strand of lights. This last one was of course being extremely difficult for you and Kaminari quickly took note as he returned to fetch another strand of lights. Picking up the plug end of one of the strands of lights Kaminari smirked as an idea popped into his head. 

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Kaminari asked as he came to stand beside you smiling. 

“Sure Kaminari.” You answer watching him expectantly. Kaminari laughed as he placed the end of the plug in his mouth and then proceeded to flicker the lights on and off presumably with his tongue. You couldn't help but laugh as he attempted to hum a song around the plug in his mouth the lights flashing in rhythm. 

“No one is gonna want to touch that now that you’ve had your mouth on it.” You offered as he chuckled to himself. 

“No one but you probably.” At that you flushed horribly returning to the last strand of lights as you attempted to hide your flushed appearance. ‘Stupid Denki and his stupid flirty was and his stupid good looks.’ you pouted.

This is my first time writing for BNHA so thank you for reading <3