#i convinced him to give it to me last week but the battery was messed up from having sit unused for so long

[redladydeath]

getting a new laptop tomorrow/monday. my current one's really started to break down (programs freeze constantly and it starts overheating at the slightest of strain), so it'll be nice to have a fresh one. i'm gonna try to resume making six edits once i get it.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst 

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

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Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

 “Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

           “I…” you shrug. “No?”

           Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

           You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

           “Yup.”

           “Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

           You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

           “Ok.”

           You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

           For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

           It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.  

           For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

           Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

           While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

           Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

           “I do. Every day.”

           Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

           Or his lips, for that matter.

           The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

           By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

           This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

           The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

           For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

           To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

           You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

           “You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

           “Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

           Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

           “Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

           “Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

           He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

           Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

           Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

           “Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

           He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

           “Ouch.”

           Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

           You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

           “Yeah.”

           Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

           Him.

           “Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

           Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

           As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

           The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

           There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

           “I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

           “Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

           I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

           “How’re you holding up?”

           Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

           “I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

           He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

           “You suck.”

           “See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

           “Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

           He shrugs. “And so am I.”

           You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

           “Yes!”

           Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

           You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

           I loved her first.

           Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

           The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

           Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

           “Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

           A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

           “We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

           A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

           “YES.”

            You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

           There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

           “Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

           It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

           “Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

           You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

           Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

           “How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

           “But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

           Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

           “Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

           You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

           It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

           The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

           “Why are you alone?”

           Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

           “Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

           “Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

           You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

           “No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

           “What?”

           “That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

           You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

           “Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

           “I don’t see why not.”

           With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

           If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

           Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

           “Did the nosy maid get to you?”

           Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

           “Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

           “No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

           Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

           The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

           “Oh, no.”

           Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

           “I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

           Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

           Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

           “You’re so pretty.”

           Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

           “What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

           You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

           Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

           “Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

           “You brought food, so now we’re even.”

           Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

           “Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

           “Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

           Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

           “Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

           The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

           Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

           A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

           “Wait!”

           Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

           You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

           Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

           “Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

           “Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

           “I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

           From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

           “Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

           “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

           With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

           When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

           “So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

           You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

           “Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

           Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

           “It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

           “How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

           The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

           “But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

           You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

           “Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

           Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

           “Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

           “I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

           Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

           A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

           “It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

           “Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

           Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

           “Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

           You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

           “It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

           Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

           Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

           Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

           “Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

           “Hmm?”

           Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

           Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

           The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

           Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

           Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

           “I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

           You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

           “And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

           “Woah, back up.”

           Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

           “You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

           “W-we’re staying?”

           Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

           “I wanna stay.”

           “Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

           Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

           “I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

           “What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

           “-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

           “The little…note?”

           “Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

           You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

           “The note.”

           It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

           “Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

           You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

           “Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

           Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

           “I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

           He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

           The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

           “I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

           “When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

           Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “Why did you tell me that?”

           You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

           Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

           “Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

           A falling star.

           In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

           Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

           “You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

           Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

           “You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

           If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

           All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

           Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

           There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

           It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

           “It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

           Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

           Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

           “You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

           You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

           The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

           “C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

           “Mmm.”

           It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

           Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

           “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

           Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

           We.

           Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

           “Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

           “Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

           With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

           “I know.” He whispers back.

           And then he’s gone.

           And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that! 

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys 

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797  @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224  @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger  @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes​ @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic​ 

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said. 

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt. 

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush. 

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day. 

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things. 

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again. 

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table. 

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.” 

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?” 

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.” 

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.” 

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.” 

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger. 

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend. 

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left. 

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.  

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded. 

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.” 

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?” 

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet. 

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head. 

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.” 

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers. 

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up. 

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet. 

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work. 

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly. 

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said. 

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister. 

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.” 

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice. 

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?” 

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?” 

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face. 

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?” 

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.” 

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.” 

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her. 

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” 

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart. 

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve. 

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth. 

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand. 

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide. 

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household. 

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said. 

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.” 

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.” 

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window. 

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!” 

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said. 

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.” 

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship. 

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”  

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be. 

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself. 

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights. 

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages. 

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat. 

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid. 

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.” 

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?” 

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.” 

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess. 

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in. 

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate. 

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie. 

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full. 

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?” 

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.” 

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her. 

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things. 

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him. 

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question. 

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again. 

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy. 

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?” 

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place. 

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared. 

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb. 

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning. 

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away. 

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course. 

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine. 

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise. 

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted. 

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist. 

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite. 

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs. 

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide. 

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner. 

“Jamie Taylor?” 

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her. 

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different. 

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment. 

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away. 

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware. 

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met. 

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable. 

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress. 

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself. 

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring. 

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin. 

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed. 

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked. 

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled. 

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake. 

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning. 

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. 

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?” 

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.  

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away. 

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed. 

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned. 

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified. 

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively. 

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. 

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Chapter Five

JJ Maybank x OC x Topper Thorton Soulmate AU

warnings: none, let me know if there ever are :)

notes: first, I know this took agesssss I'm sorry but I've been sitting on a couple chapters so you guys should be getting some updates for a while. Second, I lost my tag lists. so lmk if you want added to this one or my general tag list. I've been writing a lot more to cope with my anxiety so... things are coming bahaha. Love you guys, thanks for your support recently - J

Silver Keys Masterlist

June probably wouldn’t admit it to anyone besides her sister and Kie, but going out with Topper was fun. When he had asked her out to have dinner at the country club, she was worried she wouldn’t fit in at all. June was convinced she’d make it about 15 minutes before she bailed and met everyone back at the Chateau. She had on shoes she could barely walk in and a dress she found at goodwill, no doubt someone’s from a homecoming dance in years past and she was fighting the urge to pull her hair up all night. But then she realized they had talked straight through appetizers, dinner, and the waiter had come by twice for the check. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable understanding with each other that had continued into the following weeks.

He picked her up from work on most days, driving around in search of the perfect chocolate chip cookie. June argues that the small bakery run out of one of the local’s houses has the best cookies, but Topper is determined to try every option before making a decision. It had started as kind of a joke, but now it was just an excuse for them to hang out.

Currently, they were at the island’s movie night, chairs propped up near the back and various snacks shared between the two of them. Topper’s arm rested on her shoulders, something she had become accustomed to the past few weeks. June found herself more relaxed with him, it was easy being with Topper. She didn’t have to think or worry, June could just be.

They were playing The Sandlot, arguably the best movie of all time and June had to hold back from saying the iconic lines with the characters. She had grown up watching this movie with her sister and had practically begged Topper to go see it.

“Really?” He had asked the day before, “The movie nights aren’t really our thing.”

“Yeah, that’s because you guys always cause trouble and then get kicked out.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, you do. Besides, you’re gonna be with me and I am a model citizen.”

He laughed then and again in the chair beside her now.

She found herself leaning into him naturally, even with the arms of both their chairs in between them. It was something she had never had previously. June didn’t do relationships. In high school, she mostly stuck with the pogues and focused on school and not getting in trouble with the cops. Sure, she had the occasional crush or hookup with a touron, but nothing was ever serious. Not that this was, but it was closer to that than anything else June had experienced.

The next morning June had her last piano rehearsal with Mrs. Hana before the recital. The Saturday coming up was the big dress rehearsal. The one with the kids from all over the island and hundreds of different schools and programs. And the weekend following that was the recital. Her whole family was going. Her dad had even surprised her by getting a hotel room for all of them and making a whole trip about it. He had to work night shifts for two weeks, but he assured her it was worth it. Not that that added any pressure.

At rehearsal, June played nearly perfectly. She had only messed up a couple of notes near the end. She’d be lucky if Saturday went as smoothly as this. Mrs. Hana corrected her posture and made her go from the top. They went on like this the whole lesson: June playing and her correcting one thing at a time before making her start over. Normally, June would argue, but she knew it was because Mrs. Hana understood how important this was. This could set her future up, get her off the island if she wanted. She could do something she loved every day.

The night before the recital, June was laying on a hammock in John B’s backyard.

“Nervous?” Kie questions.

June shrugged, “Kinda, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do fine,” Pope said with confidence. It was only the three of them. John B and JJ had ventured out to get snacks and beer but hadn’t been back for an hour. June’s guess was they found a party and couldn’t bother to text an update. That or they got arrested. Which probably would’ve earned a phone call quicker than the first option. She chuckled thinking about this.

“It’s just a rehearsal and Liv is driving down with me so I don’t really have anything to worry about.”

“You seem to have this all figured out,” he said with a laugh.

Kie said, “And I cannot wait to celebrate when you get back! It’s gonna be so fun.”

June could only imagine what her best friend was thinking when she said this. She was sure it would end like most nights did, tipsy and watching movies on John B’s couch. Her favorite way to end a day. The three of them drift into a comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts. June starts to hear a familiar melody, but can’t quite put her finger on it. She was sure it wasn’t anything she had chosen to listen to, but couldn’t figure out where she had heard it before.

She was brought back to reality when John B and JJ come strutting into the yard, cases of beer on their shoulders and grocery bags in their hands. Kie and June both started cheering.

They set down the stuff on the closest table.

“What took so long?” Pope asked, getting up and rummaging through the bags. He pulls out a bag of chips before turning around.

“You’re not even going to believe it.” John B starts, taking a seat.

“Hey,” JJ yelled at June, “Gummies?” He asks and holds up a bag of gummy worms.

She nods her head and he tosses them over before grabbing his own snack and beer and joining her on the hammock. They all listen to JB’s story, JJ adding in his own variations and making everyone laugh.

“And who ended up being in front of us at the grocery store?” He paused for dramatic effect, “Sarah Cameron.”

June realized a beat late that she was supposed to be reacting, “Sarah Cameron!” she repeated.

JJ turned his head to keep from laughing.

“Am I supposed to be excited?” Kie asked, an annoyed expression on her face. She and Sarah used to be friends before they drifted into different friend groups.

“Yes, Kie. It was like fate.”

JJ spoke up, “I would hardly call it fate.”

John B just rolled his eyes at his friends and took another drink.

“What happened to Molly Fields?” Pope questioned. That was the girl we had gone to elementary school with, the latest victim of John B’s soulmate search.

“Nah,'' he dismissed, “This one’s different.”

“Well, I hope it is, JB,” June spoke up. He looked over and smiled at her.

The next morning June and Olivia jump in the car and start towards the concert hall where her dress rehearsal was being held. She had been up for hours, too excited and nervous to sleep. June had gotten ready, done her makeup, changed three times, and called Topper twice all before Olivia had even woken up. Downstairs, their mom had made some breakfast and June couldn’t bear to tell her she was too nervous to eat anything. So, she grabbed a pancake and thanked her parents.

They listened to music the whole way down, Liv was always determined to get June to listen to the most mainstream pop music she could. She always argued that she wouldn’t understand anyone’s references and it would be an embarrassing mess. June made sure to point out that she had made it 18 years without that ever happening, but nonetheless she persisted.

When they arrived, they parked the car and decided to window shop. They were still about an hour early from call time and Liv was restless enough as it was. June was trying to push her nerves down. She didn’t want to come across that way to the instructors. June had a vision that she would walk across the stage, take a deep breath, and be transported by the music. She didn’t want to have the weight of the competition on her shoulders or the constant confusion about her soulmate circling in her head. That was a new development. June found herself lying awake at night going over everything Topper had said or done and trying to place it into this mysterious soulmate cut out she had in her head. She was trying to do a puzzle with the wrong number of pieces. And she wasn’t even sure if it was the right picture on the box.

….

“Okay, turning the key a bunch of times isn’t going to do any good if the battery is dead,” Olivia said, snapping her head to look at June from the passenger side.

After the dress rehearsal, June had called Liv and the two of them had eaten in the cafeteria with a few other performers. June was practically glowing after being there for a few hours, she couldn’t imagine how she would feel at the actual recital. Everything was going perfectly.

Until they got back to the car and realized the battery was dead.

“Well,” June sighed, “I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice pinched.

“Can’t we call a mechanic?”

“Liv, you know we can’t afford that. Especially in this area. We just need a jump.”

She surveyed the empty parking lot and tried to think of what to do without panicking. They were too far from home to have someone just pick them up and there were no cars in sight. Even if there were, they didn’t have any jumper cables. Maybe they could take the bus home and get help tomorrow. June probably had enough cash in her purse for two bus tickets.

“Isn’t there like a trick with distilled water? That could get us somewhere.”

“You think I have distilled water in my car? Besides, I have no idea how to do that.”

“I’m just trying to give you ideas here,” Olivia said, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

June leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking and thinking.

She was interrupted when Olivia opened the driver’s side door and handed her the phone, “here.”

Confused, June lifted the phone to her ear, “hello?”

“June? What’s going on?” JJ’s voice was on the other end.

“J, we’re fine. Just a little car trouble.” She rolled her eyes at her sister.

“We’re stranded!” Olivia yelled so that he could hear.

“We’re fine,” she said, shooting her sister a look.

JJ speaks up, “Doesn’t sound fine. June, I’ll just come out and help. No problem.”

“No, no. We just need a jump-”

“I’m already in the car, just send me your location.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to.”

Defeated, June agrees and sends him the address of the music hall.

About 45 minutes later, JJ pulls into the parking spot opposite of them, “Hey,” he says as he turns the key and gets out of the car.

“Oh thank god! JJ, do you have AC? I’m melting.” Olivia yells. She’s already getting in his truck and rotating the fans to blow her hair back before he can process what she’s just said.

“I’m sorry,” June starts, but he interrupts her.

“Eh, no big deal”

“I can give you gas money for coming all the way out here.”

He shakes his head, “Nah. Here catch.” JJ throws one end of the jumper cables to her, “You know how to put them on?”

June scoffs, “This isn’t my first jump, Maybank.”

Once everything is sorted out with June’s car, the three of them drive to the nearest ice cream shop. Mostly because Olivia was being dramatic and promised to pay for herself, but also to thank JJ for driving the whole way out here just to get them home.

“I don’t know, it’s like what if my soulmate doesn’t like ice cream? Ew, or worse, orders mint chocolate chip.” Olivia said as they headed to a table outside. The spot they had picked was really nice, there were picnic tables with umbrellas lined up on a patio in front of the window they had ordered from.

June just laughed, a conversation the two of them had had more than once.

“What’s wrong with mint chocolate chip?” JJ asked.

Olivia made a face, “only everything.”

“Isn’t the whole point of a soulmate that you overlook those flaws and-”

“Please. Don’t lecture me.” She begs.

“She’s kinda right though,” JJ replies, looking at June for a second and scrunching his nose. She smiles back, looking down at her ice cream.

“Have you heard it?” She asks him.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “the other night at John B’s.” He meets June’s eyes. “I fell asleep on the pullout and the storm woke me up. So I was just laying awake and that’s when I heard it. It was really faint. Mad weird though,” He finished and took a bite of his ice cream, making June shudder.

She remembered the night he was talking about. It had stormed for about two days last week. She thought about what she was probably doing at the time, practicing for the recital, maybe reading until

she drifted off.

“Do you think you know who it is?” Olivia inquired.

He shook his head, “No, haven’t thought about it.”

“You don’t wanna know?”

“I mean, sure. But if I’m gonna find out anyway by force of,” he struggled for the right word before landing on, “the universe, then why stress right now?”

That answer seemed to have satisfied her enough because she nodded her head and stopped asking questions.

When she finally pulled into her driveway, June had a phone call.

The three of them had left shortly after ice cream, JJ following them most of the way back before he went off towards John B’s and June continued straight, with a quick wave behind her.

Olivia had practically jumped out of the car before she had even parked so now, June answered her phone, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Hey,”

“Hey!” Topper said on the other end, “I wanted to see how everything went. I stopped by your house just a little bit ago, but your car wasn’t in front.”

June groaned, “That’s because we just now pulled in. The practice was great! Everyone was so talented and I got to meet a couple of instructors. It was really cool.”

“That’s amazing, bub.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

“What took you so long getting home?”

“Oh, uh. I just had some car trouble, no biggie.”

“Oh, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just needed a quick jump and then we were on our way.” June chuckled, nervously. She hadn’t even thought to call Topper when her car wouldn’t start. Truthfully she hadn’t thought to call anyone, but she still felt nervous to tell him what happened.

“So someone had cables? That’s pretty lucky.” He pressed.

“Uhm. No, actually. We had to call JJ for some help and then we were good to go. It drove perfectly on the way home.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, “You could’ve called or texted me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I wasn’t even the one who called JJ, it was Liv.”

“Well, I could’ve helped.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I would’ve called a mechanic for you, had someone come out and get you.”

“And I would have really appreciated it,” June laughed nervously, “Next time I promise I will call you.”

He stayed silent for a long time before speaking, “It’s just your first thought wasn’t to call your boyfriend. Forgive me if I’m a little upset.”

She pondered over his words for a moment, skipping over the mention of ‘boyfriend,’ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “yeah, you’re right. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

June nodded even though he couldn’t see her and hung up the phone. She huffed, threw her phone in her bag, and marched up the sidewalk inside.

[julemmaes]

Pinky Promise - Chapter Four

A/N: I love them so much and if they don't kiss in the immediate future I'm gonna sue myself. This is some fluffy-whump shit I don’t even know, I tried to update earlier this time, I hope I didn’t fuck anything up and please please be nice if you don’t like the chapter cause today was hard - we found out my uncle is positive and my parents might be at risk (me as well) and it’s not good. Enjoy!:)

Fic masterlist

Word count: 4,779

Nesta sat on the armchair in Cassian's apartment and stared at the void, clutching her hands around her cup of tea.

She had been there for thirty minutes, joined by her boyfriend, and they had both said only a few words. She was terrified at the idea of having to force herself to listen to him and he, unaware of the battle that was raging inside her, seemed not to want to drop this crazy idea.

"I spoke with Feyre this morning," Nesta murmured. Cassian's head snapped up, a not too convinced smile flashed on his lips, inciting her to continue. "She told me I should listen to you."

The half smile turned into a proper one at her words, but he got serious when she gave him a dirty look, "Why?"

"She said that if you've gone so far as to call this insane mission of yours a dream, then it must be important." she held the cup even tighter between her fingers. Cassian followed the movement with his eyes, frowning. "She says I can't clip your wings. That it would do us more harm than the prospectus of you dying in combat, apparently." her sharp tone that of a woman who leaves no witnesses.

He stiffened in his seat, "Nes..."

"I'm not saying that she's right. I'm not going to give you my consent to do shit like that, not yet..." she pointed out, looking him straight in the eye, "But I want you to explain to me how it would work."

She saw the second hope ignited in his irises. The moment he knew that if he used the right words, if he pushed the right buttons, he would be able to make her give in. And Nesta wanted to shut herself down. She wanted to throw the cup against the wall and yell at him how stupid, stupid, stupid he had been to think such a thing.

She wanted to tear her hair out because the man in front of her was the only thing that hadn't brought her down in the last ten years and now he was slipping through her fingers, and she couldn't do anything to avoid it.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, pushing himself forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn't smiling openly, but she could see that the conversation was making him happy.

She licked her lips and saw him swallow.

They hadn't kissed in about four days and Nesta was counting the minutes since their mouths had touched before they started fighting, wondering if it would be the last one every second that passed.

"I want to know everything." she stammered, "What should you do now, right now, to prepare to join the army?"

He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up, "I'll have to take a medical examination, of course, and do a physical screening." He began, "This will be held in MEPS, which stands for Military Entrance Processing Station," Nesta had a feeling that she would remain silent for much of the explanation, without interfering. Not because she didn't want to, but because she could better absorb the information and all the acronyms he would spill on her.

As if she had been in class and they were explaining yet another protocol.

"I'll have to go there to process into the army." he looked her in the eye, "Basically, I'm gonna spend a night in an hotel, chosen by them. You can come visit me with the others, but you'll have to leave at ten and-" he stopped, arching his eyebrows, "Do you want the details of what I'm gonna do or?

She stopped him, "Please, tell me everything."

Something in her voice must have moved him, because he looked at her carefully before he resumed, "Alright, I'm gonna get a call at four in the morning, I'll get breakfast there at the hotel cause they do that for you," he said as if it were something to be applauded.

She snorted, "I think that's the least."

She wasn't ready to thank an organization that would surely destroy her family just because it would give her boyfriend a free breakfast.

Cassian glared, "And then we're all there at MEPS at five."

The fact that Cassian already saw a "we" in the army made her skin crawl.

"They'll assign me to a liason and that person is gonna explain what the day will entail and what we should expect."

He took a deep breath, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He did that so often, "Then, there's the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, that I'm gonna call ASVAB from now on. It is a mock test used to screen applicants to ensure that they mesure up to the high standards that are required."

And here it was, his recruiter voice. Nesta didn't think he would mention other propaganda videos, like the night before, but it seemed exactly like he was doing that while saying, "The main reason this test exists is because for Prythian Armed Forces it's important that they employ people who show strong levels of enthusiasm and skill." he winked at her and Nesta had to make an effort not to throw the cup at him, "You know, in order to maintain a great level of service and professionalism."

He puffed his cheeks, with thoughtful expression, tapping a finger on his lips, "There are nine subtests to this thing." And then he started counting on his fingers, "There are General Science, Arithmetic Reasoning, World Knowledge, Paragraph Comprehension, Mathematics Knowledge, Electronics Information, Auto and Shop Information, Mechanical Comprehension and Assembling Objects."

He stood up, took the phone at the center of the coffee table and passed it to her. She hesitantly picked it up and saw only a picture of a book, "There are plenty of sites and a specific book with sample questions I'll need to try out." he pointed the phone into her hands, "Just like a normal exam, same exact stuff."

He joked that he would need her to study, but she didn't change her expression, putting the phone on the coffee table and taking a sip of her tea.

"I'm gonna get a medical briefing and after that I have to get an exam with some physicians," he continued, "Once I'll be done with medical part-"

She interrupted him again, having to stop that dump of information that was being tossed at her, "And at this point you're not enlisted yet, are you?"

Cassian's smile turned soft, "No, baby, this is the moment they see if I'm suitable."

She nodded, "Got it."

He gave her the thumbs up, "Resuming, once I'm done with medical, I'll meet up with a counselor and that's the part where I negotiate a job. We'll talk about this later." he cracked his fingers, sighing, "With that being done, I'll go to the processing section, they'll do what they have to and at this point, I'll take the Oath of Enlistment, where I'd like you to be there."

He looked hopefully at her and Nesta closed her eyes, breathing through her nose.

Cassian stood up, approaching her. When she felt his hand on her leg, Nesta opened her eyes and saw him kneeling in front of her, his eyes glowing as he stared up at her.

"And then I'm gonna come home. To you." he whispered, stroking her thigh with his thumb, "And the first part will be done."

She moved her leg, fleeing his touch. She missed him too much and that hand, whether it was a strategy to soften her up, to make her lower her guard or simply because he missed touching her too, was messing with her brain.

Cassian swallowed noisily, clenching his hand in a fist and bringing it to his side. He stood up and sat down on the sofa, as close as possible to her armchair, "I'll return to the MEPS a second time, to begin my path on the army. A second medical inspection, a second oath and final processing and then I'll leave for BMT, which is Basic Military Training," he concluded.

Nesta looked across the room, toward the kitchen, where they had argued heavily just a few hours earlier. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, suddenly feeling weak.

His words appeared behind her eyelids, as clear as the sun.

We can always have children and pursue the careers we want.

He had seemed so sure of what he was saying.

We don't have to choose.

"Sooner or later we will have to..." she whispered.

Cassian pushed himself towards her, "Sorry I didn't hear that."

Nesta passed her hand over her face, "No, nothing," she sighed, "I was just thinking out loud."

He nodded, biting his upper lip.

"Is that why you've been training so hard?" she asked, remembering only then how much more he had actually started working out in the last few weeks. In the last few months.

Cassian responded positively and they continued talking for hours.

Nesta asked question after question: what would happen now, what would change in the immediate future in their lives, when was he supposed to leave Velaris - when was he supposed to leave here.

He explained to her what they were going to do. He would sign the contract for enlistment in a delayed entry so that he could leave in more than six months. So that they could plan everything calmly without the fear that he might be called to start Basic.

The departure date would have been decided together before he left for MEPS. He would apply for a career in the Transportation, Distribution & Logistics field as a Cargo Specialist.

Cassian had opened a web page on his phone and had her read what a job in that field involved.

"Cargo specialists ensure service members all over the world receive needed supplies and are themselves transferred safely and efficiently to their destinations. They are responsible for transferring or supervising the transfer of cargo to and from air, land, and water transport by manual and mechanical methods. They also plan and organize loading schedules." she read aloud.

Exactly what Declan was doing at that moment, he explained.

Cassian remained silent for a few minutes, allowing her time to assimilate any information he had given her. There was still so much to discuss that Nesta's head was bursting at the thought.

Before she could say anything about the fact that they were done for today, the door of the house opened and Azriel entered, with two vases so big that they covered his face, followed by a smiling Elain.

Cassian puffed and looked at her, whispering so that the others would not hear him, "I can't wait to have our own house," Nesta felt her heart implode, "so no one would ever come into the middle of our arguments to interrupt." she knew that his was a poor attempt to make her laugh, but she had completely turned her brain off.

She was used to talking about these things with him. Her heart hadn't hurt at the idea of the two of them just living together. Her whole body had hurt at the idea that in that house, there would only be her. No one else.

Even if they spent the next six months looking for the perfect house and found it, she would be alone.

Because Cassian would be overseas.

She turned to him, really looking at him and concentrating on the long black eyelashes that were fluttering fast.

She caught her breath, rising abruptly and Elain realized at that moment that she and Azriel were not alone. Both of them seemed more than surprised to find her in their living room, but, exchanging a quick glance, they decided not to say anything about it.

Azriel put the large vases on the floor, taking the smaller ones she was carrying out of Elain's hand, "Hello," greeted both of them and Cassian stood up in turn, turning to the newcomers and giving them a tight smile, "have you read the messages?" Azriel asked, taking off his coat and scarf that Elain had knitted for him.

Nesta smiled slightly.

It was Cassian who shook his head.

"Mor said that Manon arrived early. There was a misunderstanding with the time zones and they got confused with the days, but she's here anyway." Elain sounded excited, "Dinner at hers tonight."

"Fuck." Nesta murmured, running a hand over her face. She grunted in pain thinking of the headache she would have the next morning when she was due back at work. The week she spent at home on vacation had certainly made it easier for her to lay in bed without having to spend hours in the bookshop.

Cassian turned to her, slightly worried, "We don't have to go if you don't want to".

We.

Azriel looked closely at them and when he crossed Nesta's gaze, he sighed.

"We-" she began, "We?" she asked sarcastically, laughing in his face.

She was getting angry and had to try to control all the emotions roaring inside her.

After all the things he had decided without her, there was still an us. Apparently.

Cassian seemed to be in trouble, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "You don't have to come if you don't feel well." he corrected himself, "I'm sure Mor can arrange a meeting with just the three of you."

Nesta looked him in the face, clenching her jaw, "I'm going."

Elain let go an excited scream and went up to her, "I'm glad you're coming too."

They exchanged a quick hug and the older one almost cried.

She didn't realize how much the lack of physical contact weighed on her. And how more than half of that contact came from Cassian.

***

"Hey girls, come on in!" Mor greeted Nesta and Feyre with a bright smile on her lips.

As soon as they entered the house, they smelled the smell of baked pasta and both their mouths watered.

"Amren and Varian are in the kitchen with Manon and Rhys is wandering around the house somewhere, so," she told them, informing them on who was already there. Then she took one look at Nesta, "You're sure you and Cassian can stay in the same room without jumping at each other's throats?"

Feyre giggled next to them, shutting up immediately when Nesta looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

She turned to Mor, "He promised me he wouldn't bring up the army topic tonight and I promised him I wouldn't get mad about anything he said, so there shouldn't be any problems."

The blonde didn't seem so convinced, but then someone called her from the kitchen and her face lit up. She grabbed them both by the hand and dragged them into the other room, where a tall girl, with almost blinding white hair, was standing with a pan in her hand. When she saw them, she opened her eyes wide and flashed them a smile.

Feyre raised her hand in greeting and Nesta smiled tightly.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," Mor approached Manon, taking the food and placing it in the center of the table.

"Baby, these are two of the three sisters, Nesta," she said, pointing to the eldest, who reached out to Manon to shake her hand, "and Feyre, the youngest of our group."

"Pleased to meet you," murmured Feyre, blushing under the inquisitive gaze of Manon.

The girl smirked, "The pleasure is all mine." then she turned to Mor, "Our Morrigan told me that you were all very beautiful, but I didn't think I'd join a group of models."

Amren, who hadn't taken her eyes off Nesta until then, snickered, "And we're the modest ones, just wait until Rhys and Cass are in the same room and we'll have a hard time breathing from how much space their egos will take up."

Feyre laughed, "You say that as if Azriel didn't know he was the most charming one in the group," then turned to Varian, "Nothing personal," she joked, sitting between Amren and Mor. The boy shook his head smiling, always with his silent manner.

"At least dear Az remains humble and does not go around proclaiming himself Miss Velaris," said Mor.

"It happened only once and I was drunk off my ass."

Rhysand entered the kitchen with his usual grin on his face, sitting next to Nesta.

He greeted the sisters with a quick smile, and she saw Feyre smiling back as if they hadn't yelled at each other five nights earlier.

She looked around, trying to figure out if she had missed something in the last few days or if she was really the only one who just couldn't let things go.

It was true, she wasn't going to cause Mor any trouble that night and she certainly wasn't going to spoil everyone's dinner by arguing with Cassian, but she wasn't going to pretend it was all okay either. Looking at each person at that table, however, it seemed that the fight that everyone had heard had never happened.

They were talking about the university and the jobs they had and Manon seemed more than calm and comfortable in that group. Feyre, strangely enough, was the one who was the most involved in the conversation and Nesta realized with no small apprehension that it must have been because Tamlin didn't let her make new friends so often.

Manon was a flower that had just bloomed in the burnt lawn that was her sister's life.

When the other three arrived, Azriel had one arm around Elain's shoulders and Cassian, behind them, had shiny eyes. Nesta knew very well that he was not crying or drunk. That was the face Cassian had when he was exhausted and only two days of deep sleep could fix that.

Manon and Mor had got up to make introductions and Nesta had burst out laughing when the newcomer had extended her hand to Az and said, "You must be Lucien. You and Elain are a splendid couple."

Elain laughed and shrugged Azriel off, "Oh, no. He is Azriel. Lucien's not coming tonight."

Mor had cast a long look at her girlfriend and Manon had apologized, smirking, as if she had done it on purpose.

Nesta knew very well that the blonde in their group often talked about the relationships-non-relations within their circle, so Manon must have known that no one in that house really believed that Elain loved Lucien. At least, no one in that house believed that Lucien was the right person for Elain.

There was a time when Nesta was convinced that he was going to propose to her. That sweet little Ellie would finally leave the nest and build her family elsewhere, but whenever she was asked questions about their relationship, she seemed indifferent. She cared about Lucien, she did, and it was obvious.

But maybe that wasn't enough anymore.

Azriel had introduced himself for who he really was and then rushed to the table, sitting next to her, red from head to toe. Nesta bent over to him, making a joke about what had just happened, and then whispered, "Thank you." Azriel raised a confused eyebrow. "For sitting here," she pointed to the chair, "I didn't want to have to spend the whole evening next to him."

He smiled at her, clutching her knee under the table and reassuring her that it was not a problem.

When they all sat back down to eat, Manon was looking at her and smiling at her in a reassuring way. Whatever Mor had told her, the white-haired girl knew more about them all than she let on.

Cassian didn't speak to her the whole time, too lost to have a chat with Varian and she was grateful that both of them were sitting on the same side of the table, because she didn't risk crossing his gaze, not once.

Also because she was sure that if he looked at her even for a moment, he would notice that something was wrong and that Nesta was not feeling well.

When Mor put the wine on the table, half of them refused the alcohol, finding a plausible excuse that they would all have to work the next day, but Nesta knew every person at that table like the back of her hand and she knew that Feyre had refused because she would have argued with Tamlin if she drank without him being there. Elain would bring up things that weren't supposed to go out in such a context and she and Cassian would start fighting, driven by the liquid courage in their glasses.

Halfway through the meal, Nesta got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as she shut the door behind her, she sighed closing her eyes.

Cassian was right when he told her that she should not come. Her headache was getting worse and she couldn't concentrate on anything that was being said.

She sat on the closed toilet and put her hands to her face.

She felt her fingertips tingling and her stomach hurt so much that she would not be surprised if she vomited all over the table when she got back.

She had to go home and sleep and not think about anything.

She heard the others burst out laughing and suppressed a groan of pain when her ears started ringing.

She was dying, she could feel it.

She came out of the bathroom staggering, almost as if she were high on drugs.

Leaning on the wall for support she managed to return to the kitchen and covered her eyes with one hand, sheltering herself from the light. She coughed to call Mor's attention and they all turned towards her.

Nesta sighed for the umpteenth time, "I'm really sorry but I don't feel so good and I'd rather go home," she stepped to the table, approaching Manon and offering her a tired smile, "It was nice to meet you, I hope you can come back soon and visit us."

She had no idea what she was saying, the ringing in her ears became louder and louder.

Cassian stood up and everyone's attention shifted to him, "Do you want me to give you a ride?" he was already slipping out of his seat.

Nesta shook her head, grimacing, "No, there's no need-"

"You're sick, you shouldn't drive in these conditions," said Amren, looking at her severely.

Feyre came to her aid, "If you want I can take you. I can go out with them tomorrow," she said, pointing to her friend and her visiting girlfriend. Mor nodded, looking at her pale face and looking more concerned than necessary.

"Nesta," whispered Cassian, "please."

The fact that no one was making fun of him for literally begging her to drive her home made her realize that others had also sensed the emotion in his voice.

She looked him in the eye and nodded slightly with her head.

She saw Cassian sag with relief and then he was gone to the other room, fetching their stuff for her. She arranged with the sisters how they would return home and Azriel reassured her that one way or another they would safely go home. This made her slightly agitated as Azriel wore that stupid sneer he had every time he exaggerated with wine. Elain told her that she would be driving, since both Az and Rhys did not seem to be properly sober, and Nesta calmed down. She was about to thank Mor again when she felt the weight of the jacket on her shoulders.

She turned and smiled gently at Cassian, who had a tired and worried look on his face and shifted his gaze over her cheeks as if he could find the illness on her skin and remove it only by willpower.

He put his arm around her shoulders when she got dressed and said goodbye to everyone one last time, while Nesta, tired of being angry and on the verge of another hysterical crisis, snuggled up against him, letting herself be dragged out of the apartment and into the car.

As soon as she sat down, she leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes, yawning.

"Let me," Cassian murmured to her. He looked at her hopefully and it took her a few seconds to realize that he was asking her if he could fasten her seatbelt. She nodded almost imperceptibly, swallowing when he smiled at her and stretched over her to reach the other side of the seat.

She breathed the air deeply and had to close her eyes tightly when his scent ran over her and tears made their way under her eyelids.

She missed him so much.

Cassian closed her door carefully and then went around the car, settling down behind the wheel.

Like the last time they had been in the car together, he was not putting the keys in the patch and she was getting nervous.

She didn't have the strength to argue at that moment and if Cassian had offered to accompany her and she had accepted without too much fuss, it meant that her body knew it too.

"What is it?" he asked her finally, starting the car.

Nesta looked at him from the side, with a lost look, "Everything hurts, I think I might have a fever".

Throwing her a look full of worry, he said, "Why don't you close your eyes for a while? I'll wake you up when we get to your house."

She nodded and leaned her forehead against the cold window.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep, lulled by the gentle humming of Cassian and the rocking movement of the car.

When she woke up, she was no longer in the seat of her boyfriend's Jeep, but someone was carrying her and her head fell right and left as she was being bounced up the stairs. She tried to open her eyes and recognized the stairwell of her building.

She had her head resting on his chest, one arm around her back and one under her legs to support her.

"Sssh," he murmured into her hair, "we are almost there."

She grunted in pain, whimpering and almost crying when Cassian had to put her down to get the keys and open the front door. Her feet touched the ground and she leaned completely against him, gasping against his chest.

She didn't even have the strength to touch him and her arms were dangling along her sides. It was as if her legs had become jelly, she couldn't stand on her own.

"Sweetheart," he called her and she moaned, "I know, I'm sorry," he rubbed his hands on her back, stroking her gently, "but you have to give me a moment to open the door. So I can take you inside and you can sleep."

Nesta couldn't see anything and if she tried to keep her eyes open, everything would spin, but she still heard the hint of panic in his voice and could picture the worry painted on his face. Clenching her teeth she pulled herself away from Cassian and backed against the wall, "Hurry up," she said through her teeth.

The door was opened in a second and then Cassian picked her up without her even noticing. He took her directly to her room and as soon as she touched the bed, she sighed, pressing her face against the pillow.

Cassian took off her shoes and pants, helping her slip into her pajamas and covering her legs with the comforter. When he tried to pull her up to sit down, Nesta twisted, her head pounding.

"I know everything hurts, but if I let you sleep in your bra, tomorrow your ribs will hurt even more," he explained to her, sitting on the mattress, "Lean on me and I'll take care of it, Nes," she laid down, her head turned to the other side.

She heard him sigh and then Cassian's arms wrapped around her chest. She leaned completely against him with her eyes closed as she cried silently. The pain had reached overwhelming levels.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she heard him murmuring when she sobbed.

Once he had removed her shirt and bra and put the top of her pajamas on, he laid her gently on the bed and put the comforter on her so that she was not exposed to the cold.

She felt Cassian's lips on her forehead a second before sleep took over.

“I promise we’ll get through this, too.”

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[imkylotrash]

Can I Have This Dance?

Pairing: John B. x reader

Request: John b and reader at a school dance. @augustwalking

A/N It’s a rocky start, but it’s a real cute ending so just keep holding on, haha. 

“People are saying that John B. asked you to the dance on Friday?” Your best friend has just dropped onto the chair next to you in the cafeteria and of course she needs the latest gossip immediately. News spread quickly around here.

“Is it really a surprise? We’ve been going out for like 4 weeks now,” you reply. You don’t appreciate the tone of surprise in her voice. It’s been like this ever since you started going out with him. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, he barely shows up to school as it is and so far he’s made no advances to make you his girlfriend.” Although she has a point, you still don’t like what she’s hinting at. 

“We don’t need to have a label to be a couple. I’m in no rush. So back off.” 

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She takes your hand and gives it a little squeeze. Deep down you know that she doesn’t mean anything by it and that she’s just looking out for you. But it hurts, because it’s the exact same thing you’ve been thinking yourself. Why hasn’t he asked you to be his girlfriend? It’s been four weeks since you went out the first time and you weren’t any closer to becoming a thing. You are pretty sure his friends don’t even know about you yet. And the logic part of you is telling you not to worry, but there’s a small part of you that’s whispering and convincing you that he doesn’t care about you the same way you care about him. 

“I’m going to go find him,” you say getting up from the table. Before you go to the dance with him, you need to know how he feels. Of course this plan means skipping the last couple of classes because once again John B seem to have forgotten that he too needs an education. You text him asking where he is but when 10 minutes has passed by without an answer you decide to just head to his house. It’s not that long of a drive. He isn’t there but you figure he’s got to come home at one point so you decide to wait. Two hours later you hear him. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks giving you a tight hug. 

“Did you go to the land of no cellphones?” you ask feeling rather salty about the fact that you’ve been waiting this long for him. 

“It ran out of battery. What’s going on?” 

“That’s what I need to know, John B! God, what are we doing? What is this between me and you?” Your hands are gesturing between the two of you while you’re desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking. Two hours of uninterrupted time to overthink the entire situation has messed with your mind and while you had a plan to ask calmly, now you’re finding yourself shouting the question. 

“Did someone say something?” His attempt to avoid your question just infuriates you even more. 

“This is not about anyone else. I’m asking you what we are? Because I’m tired of not knowing!” 

“What happened between yesterday and today? Because yesterday everything was fine and now you’re acting like I’ve been stringing you along. We both agreed not to rush anything!” This is not how you wanted it to go. What was supposed to be a normal conversation has turned into a screaming match. But somehow you can’t stop yourself. 

“It’s been a month, John B! I’m not rushing anything. And if you really can’t give me an answer after this long, then I don’t know what we’re doing.” Suddenly all fight has left you. What are you even doing trying to push this on him. So far he’s avoided all your questions and really that should be answer enough. 

“I’m done,” you say before he gets a chance to respond. You collect your things and head for the car. You don’t want to stay a minute longer. 

“Y/N, please don’t go.” You look back but he hasn’t moved an inch to stop you. It’s just words, you tell yourself before closing the car door and driving away. 

The next couple of days pass by in a blur. You remember your best friend stopping by to try to cheer you up but it’s no use. Your heart is shattered. It’s not until Friday when she shows up with a dress and a fierce determination. 

“No more pouting. I won’t let that stupid boy be the reason you miss out on this dance. We’ve talked about this since we were 10,” she says pushing the curtain aside to let the light in. 

“And when’s the last time you’ve had a shower? You’re a complete mess,” she says never having been one to sugarcoat things. 

“Leave me alone,” you whisper hiding under your duvet. The last thing you want is to go to the dance and see his face. He probably already has another date. Or maybe he’s not even going. You can’t decide which is worse. 

“No. As your best friend I have a responsibility that I refuse to ignore,” she says grabbing hold of the duvet and pulling it away from you. Sitting down on the side of the bed she tucks some strands of hair behind your ear. 

“He does not get to break you, babe. And I know you’re hurting right now, but if you miss tonight then that’s something you’ll regret longer than you’ll remember a teenage crush. So let’s get ready and have the time of our lives.” She’s always been good at the motivational speech thing. 

“If you come tonight, I’ll let you sulk for a week and I won’t say a thing,” she offers but she already has you convinced. You can’t miss tonight. So you take a deep breath and start the process of getting ready. A shower, just a smidge of makeup and then it’s time for the dress. It’s the most gorgeous blue satin dress with a thigh-high slit and spaghetti straps. 

“Ready to go?” You nod following her down the stairs. When you reach the school, you feel the nerves hit you. But tonight is about having fun so you can’t let this affect you. Instead you promise yourself that tomorrow will be extra sulky if you can just get through tonight. 

Once inside you’re immediately dragged to the dance floor but your best friend and you can’t help but laugh. This will be a fun night. But no matter how fun the dancing is you have to admit that after two hours your feet need a break. 

“I’m going to get something to drink,” you yell and she just nods while she continues to dance. After locating the punch bowl you locate a chair in the corner where you can sit undisturbed. Or at least you thought so. 

“Hey. Can we talk for a second?” You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“It’s probably not a good-”

“Please don’t go,” he says grabbing hold of your arm. Slowly, you turn around to face him. He’s wearing a tux and it looks breathtaking on him. 

“You asked me a question the other day and you left without an answer. But you caught me off guard and you messed everything up. I wasn’t expecting you-” 

“How the hell did I mess everything up?” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, I had this plan and then you showed up like that. I didn’t know what to do and suddenly you were gone.” He’s muddling through the words like he can’t get them out fast enough. 

“You had a plan?” 

“Yes! I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend tonight. JJ was going to give you a note that said to meet me outside where I planned to set up lights and then I was going to be standing there with flowers and Hold My Girl was going to be playing. And then I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. And now it’s all messed up. I should’ve just told you the other day.” You take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“Why Hold My Girl?” you ask because you need to break the silence while you’re processing everything he just said. He wants you to be his girlfriend. He wants the same as you. 

“Because it played on the radio when I picked you up on our first date.” 

“Ask me.” 

“What?” Hearing his plan made you so happy but it also made you realise that you don’t need a big and fancy moment. Just being with him is enough and you don’t want to spend another moment without being his girlfriend. 

“Ask me now. Please,” you say taking a step forward so that you’re only separated by mere inches. 

“Will you-”

“Yes!” He grabs you around the waist and spins you around before he lets you down and kissed you. It’s gentle and sweet but there’s so much more in the kiss than just this moment now. It’s the time spent apart, it’s every minute spent together for the past month. Everything has surmounted to this right here. 

“Can I have this dance?” Without another word you let him lead you to the dance floor where you find your best friend waiting. You give her the look that says “I’ll explain later” and she hits you back with the “Damn right”. But you can tell that she’s happy for you. 

“I really care about you,” he whispers into your ear. The music is too loud to have an actual conversation so you kiss him instead. Somehow this turned into the most amazing night ever. The rest of the night you and John B don’t leave each other’s side. It’s like you’re joint at the hip. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he says at one point and you follow him outside to your car. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask looking over at him. 

“As long as I’m with you, I’ll go anywhere.”

[junghelioseok]

pronoia.

↳ you can definitively say that you did not sign up for this.

◇ namjoon x reader ◇ zombie apocalypse!au | college!au ◇ 15k [1/1]

notes: a very late birthday present for @imaginationofacrazyfangirl, who i kind of like for some reason. 

⇢ pronoia (n): a state of mind that is the opposite of paranoia. a suspicion that the universe is conspiring in your favor.

warnings: some violence obviously. some gore. mostly just me trying to be funny. irreverent humor, zombieland jokes, and a couple bad philosophy references bc idk what i’m talking about. exactly one (1) brooklyn 99 joke. yoongi is lowkey a badass bc u cannot convince me his crafty, conniving ass wouldn’t be good in this kind of situation. jk’s ready to risk it all for a twinkie. tbh this is kind of a mess and the ending might be rushed but i still worked really hard on it so please leave feedback sndfjfkjsksds 🙈

It’s too quiet.

Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, the dull hum fading into the background as water starts dripping somewhere to your left. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically against your ribcage as you suck in a deep breath and tighten your grip on your baseball bat.

It’s hard to believe that just three days ago, you were a regular college student. Three days ago, your biggest concerns were finding a decently paid summer job and getting through your last philosophy lecture without daydreaming about the cute teaching assistant bending you over his desk. But now, sandwiched between two rows in the back of your university’s biggest auditorium, you have several new concerns. Bigger concerns.

And first and foremost among them, are the zombies.

To be honest, you still aren’t entirely sure how it happened. The last emergency alert had killed your phone’s battery for good, and you’d only just managed to catch a glimpse of the words “mutated virus” and “nationwide epidemic” before the screen faded to black. And a good thing too—the undead guy trying to sneak up on you from behind definitely would have gotten you had you not seen his reflection in your now-useless hunk of metal and glass.

Thank god for the softball unit in high school gym class, you think to yourself, trying in vain to wipe the blood and brain matter off of your bat. Sure, you didn’t think you’d be utilizing those skills to kill zombies, but at this new low point in your life, anything that aids your survival is a home run in your book.

Deeming your weapon sufficiently clean, you tuck it back into a makeshift sling you’d fashioned out of an old scarf, adjusting it so that it lays flat against your spine. With both hands now free, you begin inching toward the back exit. There’s a growing ache in your bladder that you can no longer ignore, and you send a quick prayer up to any gods that may exist before cracking the auditorium door open, glancing left and right down the seemingly empty hallway. Silently, you count to ten.

After a few more moments of deliberation, you decide the coast is clear. The restrooms are at the very end of the hall, and you can’t help but feel like the little gendered stick figures are taunting you as you cautiously make your way toward them, your shoes silent against the linoleum floor.

You are approximately fifteen feet away from your destination when you hear footsteps. Your heart kicks into overdrive at the unsteady rhythm—a short tap followed by a long dragging sound, as if the approaching individual were limping. For a moment, you debate running for the nearest bathroom and barricading yourself inside, but enclosed spaces are a bad idea according to every zombie movie you’ve ever seen, and you aren’t particularly keen on the idea of becoming zombie food.

Instead, you steel yourself and turn around, pulling out your bat. The approaching zombie doesn’t look like a student—in fact, you’re pretty sure he was your trigonometry teacher for a semester during freshman year—but that’s hardly important right now.

What is important, however, is the black-and-white figure that’s just rounded the corner behind the limping math professor-turned-zombie. And it’s running toward you—fast. Far faster than any of the undead beings you’ve seen, and, upon closer inspection, faster than most of the human beings you know.

And that can only mean one thing.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, half in surprise and half in horror as the dark-haired track star pulls even with your former professor and swings at his head, using all of his momentum and landing a solid crack. The zombie crumples to the linoleum floor, blood and viscera seeping from the crack in his skull, and you frown in distaste before looking up at your classmate. “Uh, hi?”

“{Name}?” Jungkook asks in disbelief, skidding to a stop. He’s wearing a single boxing glove on one hand and wielding a smashed wine bottle in the other, and you almost want to laugh at his appearance. After all, you’re about ninety-nine percent sure he was wearing the exact same thing at the last house party you both attended. But now—with a bloodied zombie still twitching at your feet and the imminent threat of even more coming after you—probably isn’t the best time to bring that up.

“It is you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, his eyes widening. “Are you alone?”

You nod. “Yeah. You?”

Jungkook nods back. “Yeah. You’re the first person I’ve come across who hasn’t—well… you know.” He gestures downward vaguely.

“Yeah. I know.”

For a few seconds, the two of you stand in silence, ruminating on how everything managed to change so quickly. Just last week, you and Jungkook were regular college students. He ran track and and co-captained the campus dance crew, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lab partners, you aren’t sure you ever would have met. But after months of sitting together in class, equally stumped by the biology textbooks you were forced to buy and elbow-deep in formaldehyde far too often for your liking, you’ve grown to consider him a friend. And right now, you really, really needed a friend.

“Jungkook,” you begin, laying an arm on his shoulder, “I need your help.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he says, shaking his shaggy hair out of his face like a dog and glancing around the hallway. “We should team up. I mean, we’ve been lab partners for months so we already know we work great togethe—“

“We’ve failed almost half of our lab reports, and you nearly set the table on fire last Tuesday,” you cut in. “But that’s not the point. The point is the current state of my bladder and how you can help me with it.”

Jungkook blinks. “Uh.”

“I need to pee,” you clarify.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that?”

“Come with me,” you reply, grabbing his wrist. Jungkook lets out a protesting grunt when you begin pulling him down the hallway toward the restrooms, struggling even more vigorously when you try to make him follow you inside.

“This is the girl’s bathroom!” he gasps, wrenching out of your grasp.

You stare at him. “The entire city is overrun by zombies and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“It’s weird!” he protests. Nevertheless, he trots in on your heels, peering around curiously as you bang on the wall of the nearest stall in an attempt to draw any lurkers out into the open.

“Check for zombies, idiot,” you instruct when Jungkook gets distracted by his own reflection in the mirror. “I don’t wanna get eaten.”

He huffs but complies nonetheless. Raising his broken wine bottle, he glances into each stall, kicking open the doors with unnecessary force. “Clear,” he reports once he’s checked the last one, offering you a mock salute. The effect is ruined by the bright red boxing glove still on his hand, but you bite back the snide remark on your tongue and instead walk into the nearest stall.

“Plug your ears or something,” you tell him as you lock the door. “I don’t want you listening to me pee.”

“Why the hell would I listen?” Jungkook retorts, sounding thoroughly horrified.

“Some people are into that,” you reply, wagging a finger at him despite the fact that he can’t see you through the closed door. “It’s called urolagnia. Don’t kinkshame.”

“I don’t want to know why you know that,” he grumbles under his breath. “Shut up and pee already. I have to go too.”

“But this is the girls’ room,” you snipe, finishing your business and stepping out to wash your hands. Jungkook takes your place inside the stall while you turn on the sink, eyeing his reflection pointedly in the mirror. “You’re gonna get cooties.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Ha, ha,” he says dryly. “You’re hilarious.”

And then he’s turning around, flipping you the bird before slamming the metal door in your face.

You shrug, unfazed. “I know I am,” you say, addressing your own reflection in the mirror. “Also, do you by any chance own a car?”

///

“This feels like a bad idea,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing the quiet parking lot. It’s nowhere near full, but there are still several dozen cars scattered around, empty and abandoned with no owners to be found. At the far end lies your prize—a black SUV with tinted windows and a bicycle strapped to the roof. “Should we make a run for it?” Jungkook asks. “I mean, we don’t really have any other options if we wanna make it out of here with our brains intact, and—”

“Hang on a sec,” you interrupt, grabbing his arm. “We can create a diversion first. Give me your wine bottle—I’m gonna throw it.”

Jungkook hugs the glass bottle to his chest, eyes round and expression aghast. “And leave myself defenseless? What do you want me to do, punch the zombies away?”

“That’s literally what you did ten minutes ago,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

He pauses for a long moment before a resigned sigh leaves his lips. “Fine. I get to throw it, though.”

“Whatever,” you reply, waving a hand at him. “Knock yourself out. Or them. You should really knock them out, on second thought.”

Jungkook wisely chooses to ignore your rambling, hefting the bottle and testing its weight. Rearing back, he tosses it in a perfect arc, and you watch in fascination as it somersaults through the air before crashing down onto the asphalt in an explosion of shattered glass. “There!” you hiss urgently, tugging on Jungkook’s sleeve when a zombie immediately lumbers out from behind a nearby sedan, searching for the source of the noise. “We run on three, got it?”

“Got it,” he whispers back, watching raptly as several more zombies follow the first. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Together, you make a mad dash for the SUV. Jungkook gets there first, skidding to a stop and trying the driver’s side door only to find it locked. “I’ll check the other side,” you tell him, glancing around to make sure the zombies are still distracted. “Work on breaking a window or something, fast!”

The sound of a throat being cleared stops you dead in your tracks. “You’ll do no such thing,” a low voice drawls. A moment later, the platinum blond head of Min Yoongi—a reclusive senior you only know because he deejays at your favorite club every Friday night— pops out from behind the hood of the car, his dark eyes narrowed at you accusingly. “We got dibs on this one.”

“Yoongi?” you ask in surprise. “What are you—wait. We? Who’s we?”

“I’m we,” a new voice announces—one that you’re very, very familiar with. Kim Namjoon steps into view behind Yoongi, and you aren’t sure whether to be horrified or thrilled to see your philosophy TA alive and well, with what looks like a metal fence pole perched on his shoulder like a bayonet. “Hey, {Name},” Namjoon says, offering you a small smile. “Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“N-Namjoon,” you stammer, your heart skipping a beat and racing to catch back up. “You’re… okay.”

“More or less,” the tall man replies agreeably, shrugging. Then he glances toward his blond companion, raising a quizzical brow. “Come on, Yoongi. We’ve got room for two more, don’t we?”

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath that sounds like acquiescence, and Namjoon grins, patting him on the back. “Welcome aboard,” he says, turning back to face you and Jungkook. “We’ve got to move fast. You’re Jeon Jungkook, right? I’ve seen you around the track field. Can you do me a favor and watch my back while I open this door?”

Jungkook nods, accepting Namjoon’s brief handshake and the metal pole he hands over. Namjoon then pulls a wire coat hanger out of his jacket pocket, and you watch, awestruck, as he jimmies the car door open.

“There aren’t any keys,” Jungkook points out, peering over the taller man’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the ignition. “Now what? Does anyone know how to hotwire a car?”

“Yes,” Namjoon and Yoongi say simultaneously.

“Well, only in theory,” Namjoon adds when Yoongi rolls his eyes and brushes past him to duck underneath the steering wheel. “Yoongi’s the real expert here.”

“That makes me sound like a criminal,” the blond man grumbles as he sets his toolbox on the ground and gets to work. “For the record, I only know how to do this because of all the times my keys have gone missing. I’m not the fucking Pontiac Bandit.”

“Sounds exactly like what the fucking Pontiac Bandit would say,” you and Jungkook say at the same time, high-fiving each other.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “This isn’t even a Pontiac,” he grumbles, hissing through his teeth as he pulls a few wires free and begins fiddling with them. “Quit watching me and make yourselves useful. Go check the trunk for supplies, or something. Christ.”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, eyeing the surrounding cars. “That’s actually a good idea. There might be something useful in some of these other cars too. {Name}, why don’t you come with me? Jungkook should probably stay here and keep watch.”

Your mouth goes dry at his suggestion, but you nod hurriedly before your brain can short-circuit at the sound of your name leaving his lips so casually. “That… yeah. That sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“Good luck!” Jungkook calls cheerily as you walk off, earning himself a hard kick in the shins from Yoongi, who’s still flat on his back on the floor of the car.

“Dude, shut the fuck up! Do you want to die?”

Jungkook looks properly abashed. “Right,�� he says, lowering his voice. “My bad.”

To your left, Namjoon muffles his laugh behind his hand. Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, and you grin, waving at the two before departing with Namjoon. Together, you wander deeper back into the maze of abandoned vehicles scattered around the lot, peering inside for anything that might be useful. Stopping at a sedan with open windows, you slip a hand inside and unlock the door. There’s an unopened bottle of soda in the cupholder, and Namjoon smiles as he reaches into the backseat and pulls out a few grocery bags.

“Try popping the trunk,” he suggests.

“On it,” you reply, searching for the right button. Namjoon walks around back to open the lid, grinning triumphantly when he sees what’s inside.

“More groceries,” he says, hefting another bag. “And half a case of bottled water. This should be enough to get us started.” Beckoning for you to join him, he hands over the three bags before hefting the case of water over one shoulder. “You okay? I can take a bag if you want.”

You shake your head, threading your baseball bat through the handles of each bag and hefting it onto your shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks, though,” you tell him, trying to ignore the way your heart rate picks up when he gives you a look of approval, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth and dimpling his cheeks.

“So,” you begin as the two of you start trekking back toward the SUV, “where are we headed, anyway? It seems like you and Yoongi have a plan.”

Namjoon nods. “We do. There’s a reported quarantine zone up north—it’s all over Twitter.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out his cellphone, along with a massive battery pack. “I’ve been conserving my phone battery as much as I can, keeping track of any news, and I think it’s our best bet.”

“Smart.” Ruefully, you pull out your own device and show him the black screen. “My phone died ages ago.”

“You still might be able to charge it,” Namjoon points out. “The electrical grids haven’t gone down yet. And I know Yoongi’s got a cord back at the car, so we can charge our devices on the road too. He’s got all sorts of stuff—this battery pack is his, actually. I couldn’t find mine.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” you mutter, thinking back to every time he’s misplaced his laser pointer or lecture notes during class.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. Off in the distance, you spot a few zombies shambling along, no doubt searching for their next meal. Silently, you and Namjoon begin walking faster.

Yoongi and Jungkook are both seated inside the car by the time you return. Jungkook hops out to help you load the bags, and you shoot him a grateful grin as you climb into the backseat alongside him. Namjoon takes the passenger seat, kindly plugging in your phone while Yoongi adjusts his mirrors with a frown. “The engine’s gonna draw their attention,” he says. “They probably won’t be able to get us in the car, but hang onto your weapons just in case.” Then he pauses, glancing back at the metal pole in Jungkook’s hands and the wooden bat in yours. “Well. We’ll need to make a stop and get actual weapons.”

“We can try the police station,” Namjoon suggests. “I’m sure others will have had the same idea, but it’s really our only option. Then we’ll have to load up on food, water, and gas.”

Curiously, you peer into the grocery bags sitting on the floor between you and Jungkook. “Most of this stuff’s perishable. We’ll need to get non-perishable stuff if we’re going to be on the road for a long time. How far did you say that quarantined zone is, Namjoon?”

“I didn’t. I’m not actually one-hundred percent sure myself. Social media is a mess, as you might imagine.” Turning around in his seat, Namjoon shows you his Twitter feed—conflicting news alerts interspersed with grisly photos of the destroyed city and panicked requests for aid. “The last emergency alert said that the military base just outside of city limits is safe, but I’m not so sure.” He scrolls down, revealing several videos of zombies staggering around a helicopter, and upon closer inspection, you realize that they’re in full military garb. Horrified, you take his phone to get a closer look, thumbing down the page to reveal even more atrocities.

“Shit,” Jungkook breathes, sidling over to look over your shoulder. “That’s not good.”

Yoongi sighs, eyeing both of you in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, no kidding. The only thing we’re sure about so far is that the infection started in the south, so heading north is our best bet. And hopefully, we’ll find—”

THWUMP!

Namjoon’s phone clatters out of your hands as the parked car suddenly tilts, swaying dangerously to the left before all four wheels return to the asphalt once more. Horrified, you stare at the huddled horde of zombies that has suddenly appeared at your window, bloodstained hands trying in vain to reach you through the glass. “Yoongi, I think you need to drive now!” you shout, wincing as they begin thumping on the window in earnest.

The blond man curses when the car rocks again, his eyes flickering between the dashboard and the zombies swarming on Namjoon’s side of the car. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfu—HA!”

The engine roars to life, and you watch as the zombies closest to you flinch at the sudden noise before renewing their efforts, banging on the window until spiderwebbing cracks begin to form.

“Dude, floor it!” Jungkook yells.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. The car lurches forward, tires squealing, and you yelp as you’re slammed back against the seat. Instinctively, you fumble for your seat belt, ignoring the stunned look Jungkook shoots you in favor of buckling yourself in and watching the undead horde recede in the distance as you pull farther and farther away. “Holy shit,” you mutter, your head falling back against the backrest, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Holy fucking shit.”

Yoongi huffs out a sardonic chuckle as he slows ever so slightly to turn onto the main road. “Yeah. Welcome to the apocalypse.”

///

It’s odd, seeing the city you know and love in ruins. Billowing black smoke rises in the distance, filling the air with an acrid stench and a metallic tinge that you don’t want to think about. The roar of the SUV’s engine sounds like a siren’s song in the eerie silence of the streets, drawing unwanted attention from the undead. Everywhere you look, soulless eyes follow. Some zombies even try to chase the car, but they are quickly left behind as Yoongi slams down on the gas pedal, weaving past overturned vehicles and prone bodies.

You don’t wait to see if any of the bodies will rise up again.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio as Yoongi turns down yet another street, heading downtown. Static blares from the speakers, and you watch his frown get deeper the further along he scrolls through the stations. “Nothing,” he mutters after a few long minutes. “That’s not a good sign. The infrastructure is crumbling.”

Jungkook tears his gaze from the window. “What do you mean?”

Namjoon switches off the radio, letting silence envelop the car for a few seconds before speaking again. “I mean everything that sustains our way of life—the things we take for granted most days, like running water and electricity and the internet. We aren’t going to have them for much longer. Without workers to run things, we…” He sighs. “I figure we have maybe a week, at the most.”

“And then what happens?” you ask, your voice soft.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon admits. “To be honest, we might not even survive long enough to find out.”

“But we have to try,” you murmur. “Sure, we’re outnumbered and weaponless, but we have a car. We’re faster and smarter. I don’t think things are hopeless just yet.”

Namjoon shakes his head at your optimism, but Yoongi’s nodding, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Don’t mind him,” he advises. “Joon likes to overthink things and work himself up into a frenzy, but I think we’ve got a chance at making it through. Besides...” He gestures out the window with his thumb. “We won’t be weaponless for much longer.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of a square brick building that you recognize as the police station, the dark windows overlooking the street like gaping mouths. Most of the glass is broken—even on the higher stories—and you shiver at the sight of the jagged edges glinting like teeth in the wan afternoon sun.

“So... getting inside won’t be a problem,” Jungkook says dryly.

“Guess not,” Namjoon says, frowning. “Somebody definitely beat us here. Should we chance it? Everything could already be gone.”

“We’re already here, man,” Yoongi drawls, already beginning to open the door. “We may as well check it out.”

Cautiously, the four of you pile out of the SUV, eyes darting left and right as you make your way toward the front door with Jungkook in the lead. It’s hanging off its hinges and the glass is pocked with bullet holes, and a frown spreads across your face as you trace one lightly with your index finger. “Looks like there was a fight,” you murmur quietly to Namjoon, who’s standing just behind you with a rather large rock that he must have just picked up from outside. Yoongi takes up the rear with a hammer grasped tightly in his hand, and you bite back the Thor joke that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here anymore, though,” Jungkook says, winding his way farther into the lobby. “Think these elevators still work?” he asks, gesturing at the twin metal doors on the far wall.

“Not worth the risk,” Namjoon decides, walking over to the stairwell and opening the door. He peers inside before gesturing for you to enter, allowing everyone to step past him before quietly shutting the door and eyeing the two sets of stairs branching out from the landing. “We’re looking for the station’s armory,” he whispers. “What do you guys think? Up or down?”

“We could split u—” Jungkook begins to suggest, but you cut him off before he can even finish the sentence.

“And get killed off one by one like in every horror movie ever? Are you serious, Jeon?”

Jungkook blinks. “Fine. What do you think, then?”

“I think the parking garage is probably downstairs,” you muse, peering over the railing to look at the lower landing. “And it doesn’t look like there’s another level below that, so I’d say going up is our best bet.”

A smile curls the corner of Namjoon’s mouth, dimpling one cheek as he follows your lead and glances downstairs. “Nice observation,” he says once he’s straightened up again, laying a hand on your shoulder. The gentle pressure sends a shiver up your spine, a butterfly taking flight in your stomach on fluttering, iridescent wings. It’s all you can do to smile back, thanking him softly as he retracts his hand. Already, you miss the warmth of his palm.

“Let’s go,” Jungkook says, effectively ruining the moment as he begins the ascent with his pole at the ready. Yoongi follows, and Namjoon gestures for you to go ahead of him, tucking his rock under one arm.

“It’s not the best weapon,” he says when he catches you looking, a rueful chuckle escaping him.

You grin back. “Better than nothing.”

Up ahead, Jungkook stops on the second floor landing, pressing his ear against the door. “I can’t hear anything,” he grumbles, fumbling for the doorknob and cracking the door open. “But it looks like the coast is cle— oh, shit!” Jungkook pulls the door shut again, his eyes wide.

“What happened?” Yoongi hisses. “What did you see?”

“There’s a bunch of them in the corner,” Jungkook whispers. “They’re… eating something.”

“Someone,” Yoongi corrects wryly, earning himself an elbow in the ribs courtesy of Namjoon. “Sorry,” he mutters, not sounding very sorry at all.

“How many are there?” Namjoon asks.

Jungkook pauses, casting his gaze upward as he does a mental tally. “At least seven or eight that I saw. There could be more though.”

“Did you see anything that could’ve been an armory? Some place where weapons would be stored?” Namjoon presses.

“Nah. Looked like a bunch of desks, mostly. Offices and whatnot.”

Namjoon nods slowly, tapping his chin. “Okay,” he says after a few seconds of deliberation. “Let’s keep going.” He takes the lead this time, stepping past Jungkook to the next staircase, and you follow after him, struggling to keep up when he elects to take the steps two at a time. His long legs span the increased distance with ease, and it takes every ounce of self-control you possess to refrain from staring at his flexing thigh muscles.

One flight of stairs and several instances of shameless ogling later, you find yourselves on the third floor, tiptoeing through a darkened hallway lined with doors and peering inside one by one.

“These all look like interrogation rooms,” Yoongi grumbles after a few fruitless minutes.

“Nope, this one’s a closet,” Jungkook pipes up, walking inside and exiting with a mop. The door slams shut behind him, and he winces under the absolutely withering glare Namjoon shoots at him. “My bad,” he whispers, offering the taller man the mop. “But on the bright side, I think this might be a better weapon than a rock.”

Namjoon sighs and accepts the mop. “Fine. Let’s make the rest of this search quick though. And be quiet,” he adds, with a pointed look at Jungkook. “We might be close to where the weapons are kept now, since we’ve left the administrative areas behind.”

And as it turns out, he’s right. The very next door you open is a room with a multitude of industrial shelves and racks lining the walls. Much to your disappointment, most of them are empty, but a more thorough search turns up a couple of handguns along with several cases of ammunition. Jungkook finds a stockpile of smoke grenades that he refuses to part with, and you roll your eyes as he shoves them into his pockets. “What the hell are smoke grenades going to do against zombies?”

“You never know,” Jungkook retorts. “Besides, I don’t see anything else in here. Do you?”

Dejected, you shake your head. “No, I don’t. Guess Namjoon was right—someone had the same idea as us.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Namjoon says, picking up one of the guns and peering closely at it. “Who here knows how to handle a firearm?”

Yoongi grunts. “My uncle used to take us hunting on camping trips. I’m not a great shot, but I’m all right.”

Namjoon glances over at you Jungkook. “What about you guys? No?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Do shooting games count?”

“No.”

“Okay, then no.”

Namjoon sighs and hands the other gun to Yoongi, who accepts it and checks the safety before tucking it safely into his belt. You watch as Namjoon checks his own gun, unloading the magazine and inserting a new one. “I take it you know a thing or two about guns,” you remark, inching closer to him as he engages the safety with deft fingers.

“My grandfather was a cop,” he replies softly. “He taught me a lot before he passed away.”

You bite your lip as his brow furrows, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs, his gaze sliding up to meet yours. “It’s alright. It happened years ago.” Then he glances down at your hand, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “But I appreciate it. Thanks.”

The next few minutes pass in silence as the four of you complete your sweep of the room, peering at the bottommost shelves for any equipment you might have missed. “Hey,” Yoongi says suddenly, his voice hushed. “Hand me your bat, {Name}.”

Both you and Namjoon turn to face him. “Why?” you ask curiously, handing it over and watching as he lays it on the table and pulls his hammer from his waistband.

“Nails,” he says shortly. “Found some in that drawer and figured I’d make you a proper apocalypse weapon.”

“Wait,” Namjoon interrupts, striding over as Yoongi begins hammering nails into your wooden bat. “You’re making too much noise. Someone’s going to hear us.”

“Uh, it’s kinda already too late for that,” Jungkook hisses from the entrance. He’s peering through a little square window that sits about two-thirds of the way up the door, and flinches when a bloody, pale fist slams against it, splintering the glass. “We’ve got company, guys,” he grunts, pressing his full weight against the door and wincing as the glass shatters over his head. “Anyone got any bright ideas to get us out of here in one piece?”

“No,” Namjoon says slowly. “Unless…”

“Unless?” you press.

“We need a diversion,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t see how we’ll create one unless… well, unless one of us goes out there and leads them away from here. But that’s asking way too much, and—“

“I’ll do it.”

All three of you whirl around to face Yoongi, who looks thoroughly unfazed by the sudden scrutiny, picking idly at a frayed corner on his jacket. “You can’t be serious,” Namjoon says, finding his voice first. “It’s dangerous.”

“So is staying here,” Yoongi replies. “Besides, aren’t you always going on about the greater good? Altruism and Comte and all that shit? Let me do this, man. I can handle it.”

“That’s not—” Namjoon stops, rubbing the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. “That’s not the point. It’s just not practical, Yoongi. You’ll be vulnerable if you’re alone.”

“No, I’ll be fast,” Yoongi corrects, pulling out his gun and clicking off the safety. “You think we’ll do any better as groups of two? I don’t.”

“But—“ Namjoon tries again, his brow creasing, but Yoongi shakes his head and strides to the door.

“I’m gonna go left,” he says, his hand on the handle. “We came from the right, so you guys should be able to retrace our steps and get out.”

Jungkook stops him before he can exit, pressing a handful of smoke grenades into his palm. “Hang on,” he says, his throat tight. “You might need these.”

Yoongi pockets them, nodding. “Thanks, man.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue some more, but finally bites his lip and nods, his face resolute. “Good luck,” he says after a long, heavy pause. “Stay safe.”

Yoongi flashes you all a crooked grin. “See you soon.”

And then he’s flinging open the door, swinging his hammer into one zombie’s skull and kicking another in the knees. Namjoon stays in the doorway, shooting any and every zombie that he can see through the smashed window. You can just barely hear Yoongi jeering insults over the sound of gunfire and stumbling footsteps, the occasional thud of something heavy against the linoleum floor letting you know that Namjoon has successfully found his mark.

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally pulls back from the window and turns back to you and Jungkook. “Coast is clear,” he whispers. “Let’s go.”

“And Yoongi?” you ask, anxiety roiling in your gut at the thought of the blond man facing the horde of undead alone.

“He’ll be fine,” Namjoon says automatically, and you know he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s reassuring you. His grip is tight on his gun as he wrenches open the door and ushers the two of you out into the hallway, and even in the dimness you see the worried glance he shoots over his shoulder, lingering on the corner that Yoongi has disappeared around.

“Come on, Joon,” you murmur, nudging his arm gently. “Yoongi’s gonna beat us back to the car at the rate we’re going.”

That draws a soft chuckle from your companion. “You’re right,” he murmurs back. “Let’s go.”

///

As it turns out, however, Yoongi does not beat you back to the SUV. The blond-haired man is nowhere to be found, and you see concern etch itself permanently onto Namjoon’s forehead as he peers around the eerily quiet street. The air feels too still, and every crunch of gravel from underneath your sneakers sounds like a gunshot.

“He’ll be back, right?” Jungkook whispers urgently to you while Namjoon is out of earshot, his doe eyes wide and beseeching. “You don’t think he got…”

He trails off, and you shake your head, unwilling to even think of the possibility that harm has befallen the blond-haired man. “Yoongi’s tough,” you declare. “He’ll be back any minute, and we should be ready to take off when he does. In case, you know, he’s still being chased.”

“Right,” Jungkook says, glancing over at Namjoon, who’s standing closest to the driver’s side and is suddenly beginning to look very sheepish.

“So… I can’t actually drive,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as your jaw drops.

“Wait, you can’t drive? Don’t you live off-campus? How do you get to class?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I usually bike. Sometimes I walk to class, if the weather’s nice.” Then he pauses, dejection settling on his features. “Although I guess I won’t be teaching classes again any time soon.”

Your heart sinks. You know from the syllabus that he handed out on the first day that this was his first semester as a teaching assistant, his passion for philosophy shining through in every lecture he’s given. “You’re a great teacher,” you tell him, intent on cheering him up. “I learned so much from you. I mean, nobody likes moral philosophy, but you somehow managed to even make that interesting, which is pretty damn incredible.”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “Thanks. You were a pretty damn incredible student, yourself.”

“Why, thank you,” you tell him with a grin.

Beside you, Jungkook rolls his eyes and pretends to retch. “Fine, I guess I’ll drive.” Grumbling, he swings open the driver’s side door and plops down onto the seat, adjusting it for his longer legs. “Now how the hell do I start this thing?”

Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly and tears his gaze away from yours, reaching underneath the steering wheel and pulling out a tangle of wires. You stop listening as he explains to Jungkook how to spark them together and instead turn your gaze back to the looming police station, watching intently for any sign of Yoongi’s return. Crumpled newspapers and stray plastic bags roll by, buoyed by the spring breeze. Across the street, a lone pigeon roams, head bobbing as it searches for crumbs.

“Looking for me?”

You jump, letting out a surprised shriek as Yoongi’s blond head of hair suddenly pops out from behind the trunk. “Jesus Christ, Yoongi, what the hell? Where did you come from?”

“Originally? My mother’s womb,” he replies, shrugging. The movement draws your attention to the sleeves of his jacket, newly tattered and splattered with crimson, and any witty retort you might have had is immediately swallowed up by concern.

“Is that blood? Oh my god, is that your blood?”

Your shout alerts Namjoon and Jungkook, twin looks of concern marring their faces as they clamber out of the SUV and join the two of you. “No, no—I’m not hurt,” Yoongi reassures, dismissing your worries with a wave of his hand. “Things did get a little dicey, but it all worked out in the end.”

“How exactly did you escape?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi grins crookedly. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“If I couldn’t beat them, I had to join them,” Yoongi elaborates, gesturing to his tattered, dirty clothing. “I stumbled across the evidence room while I was trying to find another way out, and got an idea. This—” he gestures at the red stains splattered across his clothing, “—is actually spray paint. The police must’ve confiscated it from graffiti artists or something. Then all I had to do was rip up my jacket and limp a little and, well, here we are.”

“And that worked?” you ask in disbelief. “You just… pretended to be a zombie and walked out?”

“More or less,” Yoongi says with another shrug. “Now come on, let’s blow this joint. They could find us any second, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t really wanna die just yet. Pretending was enough.”

You have about a million more questions, but Yoongi takes his spot in the driver’s seat before you can ask any of them, readjusting the seat and promising an inquisitive Jungkook that he’ll teach him how to drive the hotwired vehicle next time. The rest of you take your seats as the engine roars to life underneath the blond man’s skilled fingertips, and with a squeal of tires against asphalt, you are off once again, heading toward the great unknown.

///

“Wait, wait, no, stop!”

Yoongi slams on the brakes at Jungkook’s shout, the car skidding to an abrupt halt. “What is it?” he demands, his gaze darting around frantically as his fingers reach for his gun. “Is there a problem?”

Jungkook winces. “Sorry. I was talking to Namjoon, actually.”

Yoongi visibly relaxes, shaking his head as he resumes driving. Namjoon glances back at Jungkook, his eyebrows disappearing behind his dark hair in silent inquiry. “Yes?”

“The radio,” Jungkook says, gesturing at the dashboard buttons that Namjoon has been fiddling with incessantly for the last several minutes. “Go back to the last station for a sec.”

Obediently, Namjoon turns the dial. Staticky white noise fills the air, and Jungkook frowns. Then a few jumbled words filter through the static, and he lets out a triumphant shout. “There!”

“Huh,” Namjoon says, leaning closer to the speaker. “I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. We must be out of range.”

“But we must be getting closer—I think I can make out a few words,” Jungkook says. “Everyone shut up and let me listen…” He trails off, and for a few moments, there is only the sound of garbled static and the low whir of the tires against pavement. Then Jungkook flops back against the seat, a pensive frown settling on his face. “Huh.”

You nudge his shoulder. “Well? What did you hear?”

“Not a whole lot,” he admits. “And I can’t be sure that what I heard was right, but… I think the broadcast is coming from Sonyeo City.”

Namjoon purses his lips, his chin jutting out in the way it does whenever he’s deep in thought. “Sonyeo City… that’s about six hours away, isn’t it?”

Yoongi hums. “Yeah, just about.”

“Do you think…” you trail off, hesitant. “Do you think that this means Sonyeo City’s… safe?”

“There’s no way to be sure.” Namjoon casts his gaze out the window, and you get the feeling he’s looking far beyond the crumbling streets and dark buildings, to the horizon where there still may be a glimmer of hope. “But at least we now have a destination in mind.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. Namjoon keeps the radio on just in case another snippet of discernible audio comes through, but none of you manage to catch anything important. Yoongi stops at a gas station to refuel, and a few minutes after that, finally manages to find a grocery store that looks to be mostly intact and devoid of any immediate threats.

“Let’s get this bread,” Jungkook proclaims as he slides out of the backseat, walking toward the entrance of the store. “And by bread, I mean Twinkies.”

You gape at his retreating back. “Is that a Zombieland reference?”

“Maybe,” he replies, shooting you a playful grin over his shoulder.

Shaking your head, you follow him through the automatic doors and glance around the interior of the store. Row after row of shelves take up the majority of the room, with an open space on the far right for fresh produce and glass-paneled refrigerators lining the wall. Behind you, the doors slide open again with a whoosh, and you turn to meet Namjoon’s eyes as he steps inside with Yoongi. “We should lock the doors,” you point out.

“You’re right,” Namjoon agrees, inspecting the metal frame surrounding the glass.

“Hang on,” Jungkook interrupts, eyes wide as he watches Namjoon fumble with the mechanism. “Are you locking us in?”

“For the time being,” Namjoon says absentmindedly, still focused on the door.

You walk over to Jungkook and pat his cheek. “He’s not locking us in; he’s locking them out. Or would you rather have a horde of zombies stumble in while we’re grabbing supplies?”

“... fair point.”

“Exactly.”

Yoongi, meanwhile, is gazing around the store, leery as always. “Hello?” he calls, his voice cutting through the silence. “Anyone home?”

Not even two seconds later, a shambling, shuffling figure emerges from a far aisle, moving surprisingly quickly despite its odd, lopsided gait. Two more follow, and Yoongi raises his gun, clicking off the safety and narrowing his eyes.

Toward the other end of the store, you spot another zombie dragging itself along the floor, leaving a trail of streaky, bloody handprints in its wake. Three more shuffle out from behind a display of watermelons, heading toward you, and you tighten your grip on your nail-studded bat as they draw ever closer.

Shots ring out behind you, but you don’t chance a glance backward. Out of your peripheral vision you spot Jungkook on your left, bringing his metal pole down onto the crawling zombie’s head with a sickening crunch. Leaping into action, you swing at the closest zombie’s head. It was once a woman, you notice—long stringy hair falling around her decaying face, the bottom half of her jaw visible through the peeling skin. “Sorry about this,” you say, wincing as your bat makes impact. The nails catch in her skin, her neck cracking under the force of the blow, and you yelp as she falls over and the other two zombies take her place.

“Watch out!”

Namjoon’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and you instinctively duck as he sprints over and shoots one point blank. Jungkook takes out the other, driving the pole through its chest before pulling it out and smashing it over the zombie’s head. “Are there more?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

“Not sure,” Yoongi says, rejoining you. “I would think most of the lurkers were drawn out by all the noise.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Namjoon says. Walking over to a checkout lane, he grabs a pile of plastic bags and an abandoned cart. “Let’s stay together and take the aisles one at a time. We’ll take as much as we can carry.”

“Don’t forget bottled water,” you pipe up, pointing at the stack of water bottles piled next to the door. “We’ve already drank most of what we have. And if we’re getting canned food, we’ll need a can opener too.”

Namjoon follows the direction of your finger. “Good call.”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook volunteers, jogging over to select a twenty-four pack of bottles and heaving it into the cart. “Now what?”

“Let’s grab the can opener first,” you say. “Maybe some other utensils too. Sound good?”

Namjoon nods. “Sounds great,” he says, handing you one of the bags. Jungkook and Yoongi accept the other bags that Namjoon doles out, and together the four of you head farther into the store, scanning the signs until you come across the one labeled household goods. It’s clear that others have been here before you, but a quick raid of the shelves yields two can openers and a set of silverware, all of which you deposit into your bag. Namjoon grabs four unbroken bowls, mismatched and in varying sizes, and you hold out your bag for him to drop them inside.

Next up is the canned food aisle, where you stock up on various vegetables and far more beans than you care to think about. Jungkook grabs a box of instant coffee, and Yoongi disappears for a few seconds and returns with a massive jar of vitamin supplements. “Gotta stay healthy,” he says in response to your raised eyebrows, adding it to the growing pile in Namjoon’s cart.

“Speaking of healthy, we should grab some produce,” you say. “It won’t stay good forever, but we can at least get some apples and oranges. And we should probably grab some stuff for dinner too. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

As if on cue, Namjoon’s stomach rumbles. “Dinner would be nice,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Let’s finish up here and then eat in the car. We probably don’t want to stick around here for much longer than we have to.”

After some discussion, the four of you decide on sandwiches for dinner and set about gathering the necessary ingredients. Yoongi wanders to the deli area to pick out a selection of meats that haven’t yet spoiled, and even manages to locate some cheese. You peruse the produce, selecting a head of lettuce and several ripe tomatoes while Namjoon fills a bag with apples and grabs a bunch of bananas. Jungkook raids the bread display, shoving two whole loaves and a box of dinner rolls into his bag. Several bags of chips and a pack of juice boxes later, you are ready to go, heading back out into the parking lot where the SUV is parked.

“Wait!” Jungkook suddenly yelps, stopping dead in the middle of loading the trunk. “I forgot my Twinkies!”

“Are you serious right now, Jeon?” you hiss, watching in disbelief as he hurriedly drops his bags and turns back toward the entrance.

“Yes,” he says stubbornly, already beginning to jog away.

Yoongi groans and flops down into the driver’s seat. “Sartre was right,” he grumbles under his breath. “Hell is other people.”

Namjoon gives him an astonished look, mouth already open and ready to question what exactly his friend knew about the French existentialist philosopher, but quickly snaps back to the issue at hand when you abandon your own bags and dart after Jungkook. Immediately, Namjoon follows, nearly tripping in his efforts to keep up with you, and you whirl in concern when he lets out a sudden, startled shout. “What is it?”

Namjoon grimaces, brushing a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Sorry, it’s just—holy shit!”

A skeletal, gaunt hand is grasping at Namjoon’s ankle, and you gasp when you realize that it belongs to the female zombie from before, her milky eyes gazing unseeingly out from beneath stringy hair. Cursing, Namjoon shakes her off and fumbles for his gun. Pointing it down, he aims and pulls the trigger.

Click.

“I’m out of bullets,” he whispers in dawning horror.

You reach for your trusty bat, tucked away in its sling on your back, but the handle keeps evading your grasping fingers, the nails catching in the fabric. Your palms begin to sweat as Namjoon kicks at the zombie, stomping on her arm and cracking all the bones. He’s glancing around frantically for something he can use as a weapon, but to no avail. And all the while, the undead woman continues her dogged pursuit, crawling after him with one good arm like a lopsided cockroach, teeth gnashing furiously in anticipation of her next meal.

“NOT TODAY, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Jungkook barges onto the scene with his metal pole in hand, glinting dull silver in the flickering fluorescent lights. He smashes the zombie over the head once, twice, three times before relenting, his chest heaving with exertion. Namjoon sucks in a deep breath when she finally falls limp, reaching out to clap Jungkook on the back. “Wow,” he says shakily. “Thanks, man. That was a close call.”

Jungkook straightens up and hefts his weapon over his shoulder. “And that’s why we have rule number two here in Zombieland,” he says proudly.

Namjoon asks the question before you even have a chance to stop him. “What’s rule two?”

Jungkook grins a grin so wide, you’re surprised his mouth doesn’t fall off altogether. “The Double Tap, of course.” Then his gaze flickers downward, to where a familiar blue-and-white box lies crumpled against the linoleum. “Oh, no. My Twinkies!”

You sigh.

///

Dinner—if it can even be called that—is a quick affair, eaten while huddled in the SUV and parked in an alley. The sun is setting rapidly, dipping beyond the horizon and bathing the surrounding buildings in a fiery orange glow. It’s been mercifully quiet for the past half hour, broken only by the occasional crunch of a chip or a slurp from a juice box.

Yoongi starts driving again after he’s polished off the last of his sandwich. Dusky twilight cloaks the city in purple—turning it into something strange and unfamiliar. Normally, the streets would be aglow with lit lamps and illuminated homes, crowded with people returning home after a long day of work or classes. Now, though, the streets are silent and abandoned. The few zombified citizens you pass are quickly left behind, and you know you aren’t imagining the melancholy air that’s settled over your companions, nestling deep into the nooks and crannies of the SUV, stagnant and unshakable. It grows stronger the farther Yoongi drives, the buildings getting shorter and the space between them growing longer, and your heart breaks a little in your chest when you turn for one last look at the city you’ve all come to call home.

You can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you know you won’t ever be coming back.

Namjoon begins fiddling with the radio dials again as Yoongi turns onto the highway, a burst of static breaking the stifling silence in the car. Jungkook startles slightly at the sharp sound, looking up from where he’d been staring out the window. “Is that the station from before?”

Namjoon hums in affirmation, adjusting the volume until the white noise is just a low buzz. Jungkook settles back into his seat, but you can see that he’s listening carefully, his knee bouncing in anticipation.

And then, without any warning whatsoever, a voice comes through the static, clear as day.

Testing, one, two. Is anybody out there?

If you’ve still got a functioning brain and at least one ear, congratulations! another voice chimes in, brighter than the first. You’re listening to 2J! Straight out of Sonyeo City, we’re your premier source of zombie news—

—your only source, really—

—and we’re here to bring you all the latest so that you can stay safe out there, the second voice continues as if there was no interruption at all.

Unfortunately, the first voice says, adopting a more somber tone now, there isn’t a lot of good news. We’re still in the dark about how this epidemic started. Reports claim that it began in a city in the south, which multiple sources have confirmed, but the government has yet to put out an official statement regarding the situation.

They’re being pretty dodgy about the whole thing, to be honest, the second voice continues. The first emergency alert said it was a mutated virus, but the second claimed it was a contaminated water reservoir. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some super-secret experiment gone wrong, Jin.

Honestly, me neither, the man named Jin says. But that’s enough of the conspiracies for now, Jay. Let’s talk survival! First thing you’ll want to do, dear listeners, is head north toward Sonyeo City, where a quarantine zone has been set up.

Jungkook releases a long, pent-up breath. “We were right,” he whispers. “Thank god.”

Namjoon flashes him a little smile and cranks up the volume, listening carefully as Jin’s voice fills the car.

Your best bet is to drive, of course, hop in your car and get going. Stock up on gas and non-perishable food, and some weapons certainly wouldn’t hurt either.

If worst comes to worst and you have to kill a zombie, the best way to do it is to smash its head in, Jay pipes up. You can also break their kneecaps to slow them down, but that won’t kill them for good. They’ll keep coming as long as they can still move—and if they bite you, you’re a goner.

Now onto ways to avoid zombies! Jin says, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. One thing I’ve noticed during my research is how quickly their optic nerves deteriorate once they’re infected. In fact, the rate of deterioration is second only to that of their vocal chords!

And now tell them what that means in plain English, Jay prods, laughing.

Jin chortles. Basically, they have shit eyesight, especially in the dark, he clarifies. If it’s nighttime and you find yourself surrounded somehow, your best bet is to stay quiet and move slowly. If they hear you, well…

You’re a goner, Jay supplies helpfully.

Exactly. Thanks, Jay.

No problem, Jin.

And that brings us to the end of this broadcast, Jin says, clapping his hands. Thanks for tuning in today, and we’ll see you next time.

Until then, this has been 2J. Stay safe out there!

There’s a dull click, and then the static resumes, filling the silence left in the wake of the broadcast. “Well, at least we’re headed in the right direction,” Yoongi says after a few long moments. “It’s a long drive though, and I don’t think I can stay awake for much longer. We might want to start looking for a place to sleep for the night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Namjoon says. “I’m pretty sure we’ve all been running on pure adrenaline up to this point, so we definitely need some rest. We’ll start fresh tomorrow morning.”

Mumbles of agreement all around. Ten minutes later, Jungkook points to a quaint little farmhouse on the right side of the road, the windows dark. “Think anyone’s home?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Yoongi replies, slowly pulling off the road and into the winding driveway, watching for any movement from the house or the surrounding fields. The hum of the engine doesn’t draw any unwanted attention, and you breathe a tentative sigh of relief as he parks the car beneath a large oak tree. Together, the four of you pile out and approach the house, weapons at the ready.

“Should we knock?” you whisper, looking at the little brass knocker in the middle of the front door. “Ring the doorbell, maybe?”

“Can’t hurt, right?” Jungkook jabs his thumb into the button by the doorknob, listening intently as the bell chimes inside the house. After a few beats of silence, he shrugs. “Guess no one’s home.”

“And the door’s locked,” Yoongi says, trying the knob. “Maybe they’re away on vacation or something.” Wandering over to a nearby window, he jimmies the frame, a wry grin crossing his features when it pops open easily. “They should probably invest in better locks, though.”

One by one, you climb through the window. Namjoon is the last one inside, folding his tall frame through the small space, and as soon as both his feet touch carpet, Yoongi shuts the window again and closes the curtains. “Don’t wanna be seen from the street,” he explains as he pulls out his cell phone and taps the flashlight button, illuminating the room in harsh white light. Namjoon does the same, as does Jungkook, and you pull your own phone out as well—now fully charged from the long car ride. A quick sweep of the house reveals that it is indeed empty, and Jungkook whoops when his flashlight falls upon a rifle mounted over the fireplace. Further investigation reveals two more pistols in a cabinet, along with ample ammunition, and Yoongi grins as he loads all three guns and hands one over to you.

“You ever shot one of these before?”

The gun is heavy in your palm. Slowly, you shake your head.

Yoongi glances over at Namjoon slyly. “Why don’t you give her a lesson out back, then?”

You don’t miss the way Namjoon’s ears flush pink, his feet scuffing nervously against the carpeted floor before he chances a look at you. The smile that he offers you is warm but hesitant, and when he speaks, his voice is even more so. “Sure,” he says. “I can show you how, if you’d like.”

“I’d really like that,” you tell him, the butterflies erupting in your chest when his smile widens. Together, the two of you head toward the back of the house, taking a detour to the kitchen where Namjoon grabs an armful of empty soda cans. His shoulder brushes against yours as you walk, but neither of you pull away. Even as you step onto the wooden patio that leads into the rest of the yard, you remain side by side, admiring the full moon that hangs bright in the sky, providing just enough illumination to view your surroundings.

“I suppose we should start with the basics,” Namjoon begins, his gaze alighting on a low fence lining the property. Jogging over, he lines the cans up on the wooden beam before returning to your side and gesturing for you to raise the pistol. His fingers skim across yours as he shows you how to disengage the safety, and your heart skips a beat when he explains how to reload once you run out of bullets, his large hands guiding yours through each step.

There’s a damp chill in the evening air, but you don’t even feel it. Namjoon is so close by this point, his chest pressed almost flush against your back as he shows you how to aim. His fingers wrap around your wrist, warm and gentle, and you shiver when he speaks again, his mouth at your ear, his voice rumbling through his chest.

“Ready?”

You nod, almost afraid to breathe as your finger finds the trigger. Namjoon’s grip on your wrist loosens but doesn’t disappear entirely, and you steel yourself for the recoil as you finally pull the trigger. The loud crack has you wincing, but Namjoon is laughing, the sound deep and husky as he urges you to lower the gun.

“Nice shot.”

You turn to look at the fence, now missing one soda can. “Oh, wow,” you breathe. “That was… kind of therapeutic, actually. Can we try again?”

Namjoon grins. “Of course we can.”

///

Ten cans and a box of ammunition later, you and Namjoon find yourselves lounging on the steps of the patio, staring up at the velvety night sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars before,” you murmur, a little awestruck by the sight. “But now that we’re away from the city and all that light pollution… wow. It’s amazing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Namjoon agrees, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before he collects himself and looks up at the sky once more.

“I wish I knew more constellations,” you say, laughing softly. “I can really only pick out the Big Dipper. And even then, I can only find it about eighty percent of the time.”

“What about the Little Dipper?” Namjoon asks. He scoots a little closer to you, pointing upward. “Do you see that really bright star up above the Big Dipper? That’s Polaris—the north star. It’s the end of the handle.”

You follow the trajectory of his finger curiously, eyes widening when you spot the smaller, but still distinctive, spoon shape. “Oh! Yes, I see it now. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before.”

Namjoon chuckles. “I can show you where Orion is too,” he says. “That’s as far as my knowledge of constellations goes, though.”

“You know more than I do,” you reply, smiling up at him. Softly, you lay a hand on his arm. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, cheeks dimpling as he gazes down at you. This close, you can see all the stars reflected in his irises, his skin glowing silver under the luminescence of the full moon. And in a sudden surge of boldness, you allow your hand to slide down until it’s laying atop his, your fingers settling in the spaces between his own.

Namjoon glances down at your intertwined hands, his lips twitching with a barely restrained smile. “You know,” he murmurs, his breath visible in the chilly air, “I’ve always kind of liked you.”

You blink at the admission. “Really?”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, his chest rumbling with the sound. “It’s crazy, right? But it’s true. Ever since you sat down in the front row on the first day of my class with a bright pink pen and no laptop… do you know how rare it is to see someone take handwritten notes in this day and age?”

Your cheeks heat up. “You noticed that?”

“I did,” he replies, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together properly. “Do you remember that essay the professor assigned? It must have been the second or third assignment—the one about moral responsibility in modern society?” At your nod, he smiles and continues. “Yours was the best one I read, hands down.”

“Yeah, he talked about it for three days straight,” a new voice says. Whirling around, you see Yoongi’s head poking out the back door, smirking like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. It was annoying as hell.”

Namjoon groans. “Seriously, Yoongi?”

The blond man puts his hands up innocently. “Just stopping by to make sure you guys weren’t dead,” he says before letting the door shut again, chortling to himself.

Namjoon sighs and turns back to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t have much of a filter.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand. “Don’t worry about it. He’s gone now, so I can finally do this.”

Namjoon tilts his head curiously. “Do wha—?” he begins to say, only to be cut off by your mouth on his. The kiss is soft and slow, your lips moving lazily against his, and by the time you pull away, both of you are breathing much more heavily. Namjoon’s hands find their way around your waist, tugging you close, and you nestle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, enjoying how it wards off the chill in the air.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you know,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He chuckles and chases after your mouth, his nose bumping affectionately against yours. “Yeah. Me too.”

///

You wake up the next morning to golden sunlight streaming in through the window and an arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Namjoon hasn’t opened his eyes yet, his hair sticking every which way, but his grip on you tightens when he feels you begin to stir. “Good morning,” he mumbles, finally cracking an eye open and smiling down at you.

“Good morning,” you whisper back. You’re positive that you look like an absolute mess—hair in disarray, face crusty from sleep, body desperately in need of a shower—and yet Namjoon is staring at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, dimples dotting his cheeks as he reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. You reciprocate with a kiss to his palm, and he grins. Grabbing your chin, he tilts your face up so he can kiss you properly—his lips soft and gentle against yours. It almost feels like an ordinary morning, and for a few moments, you can pretend that there isn’t a monstrous epidemic running rampant through large swathes of the country. For a few moments, you’re just a girl and a boy, basking in the idyllic haze of each other’s presence.

But then there’s a knock on the door, followed by Yoongi’s low drawl. “Get dressed and come eat, lovebirds. Sooner we get on the road, the better.”

You break apart from Namjoon, giggling when you see the dopey grin stretched across his face. “Why are you looking at me like that, you weirdo?”

His grin only widens, his arms looping around your waist. “It’s just funny,” he says. “Waking up with you, Yoongi yelling at us—this is the first ordinary morning I’ve had in a long time. And I’ve missed it. I’ve missed it a lot.”

“So have I,” you murmur, burying your face into the warm cotton of his t-shirt and allowing yourself one more moment of normalcy before getting out of bed. Walking into the bathroom, you are pleased to discover that the water is still running, and Namjoon even manages to unearth some unused toothbrushes and toothpaste from underneath the sink. The bristles are a little too stiff for your liking and the water has a metallic tinge that refuses to dissipate, but being able to brush your teeth makes a world of difference. There’s a noticeable bounce in your step as you make your way downstairs with Namjoon, and Yoongi and Jungkook pick up on it right away.

“Someone’s chipper this morning,” Yoongi says without looking up from his bowl of dry cereal. “The sex was that good, huh?”

“W-we didn’t…” Namjoon stammers, his cheeks flushing. “That’s not what we—”

You squeeze his hand, stopping his rambling in its tracks. “Let them think what they want,” you advise. “They’re just jealous of your dick game, anyway.”

“Ew,” Jungkook grumbles, throwing an apple at you. “Way too much information, {Name}.”

You shrug, just barely managing to catch the piece of fruit. “You guys brought it up first. Not my fault.”

The remainder of breakfast passes quickly. Yoongi and Jungkook head outside to start loading the car while you and Namjoon scour the house one last time for anything that might be useful, and within the hour, you are back on the road toward Sonyeo City.

“You know, this Jin character sounds like a piece of work,” Yoongi grumbles from the passenger seat for what feels like the millionth time. Jungkook is driving today, which leaves you and Namjoon in the backseat with the eclectic collection of food and weapons you’ve amassed. The four of you are listening to the 2J broadcast again, and after a rather lengthy discussion of zombie evasion techniques, Jin has lapsed into telling the worst dad jokes you’ve ever heard.

What does a vegetarian zombie eat? Graaains!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Yoongi groans.

Morning turns into midday, the sun high in the sky. The road winds on, through green cornfields and grassy plains and the occasional small town. Several times, you spot a zombie or two shambling around aimlessly through the windows, but they’re quickly forgotten as Jungkook slams on the gas pedal. You get the feeling that he’s relishing the lack of an enforced speed limit, and taking full advantage of the empty highway.

It’s late afternoon by the time you arrive on the outskirts of Sonyeo City. Off in the distance, you can see taller skyscrapers rising up, gray and hazy against the horizon, but the area you’re in right now seems to be the warehouse district. Low, squat factories sit on either side of the road and a branching network of railroad tracks weaves throughout, but everything is eerily still and deathly quiet. No smoke rises up from the smokestacks, and you’re pretty sure you spot a train that’s been toppled over onto its side before Jungkook hits the gas again and takes you deeper into the city. The buildings get taller the farther you drive, but you still have yet to see any signs of life besides the occasional bobbing pigeon or scurrying rat.

That all changes when the car rounds the next corner. It looks as if a bomb has gone off in one of the largest brick buildings lining the street, covering the entire block in a layer of rubble. Zombified citizens mill around in the debris, and Jungkook slams on the brakes, his eyes wide with panic.

“Dude, just back up and try another street,” Yoongi says when he doesn’t move. “They haven’t noticed us yet.”

“No, that’s not it,” Jungkook says, his voice shaking. “We’re… we’re low on gas. Like, really, really low.”

Yoongi takes another look outside and blanches. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’ll get killed if we try to refuel now!”

“I’ll—I’ll get us as far away as I can,” Jungkook stammers, throwing the vehicle into reverse and beginning to back away from the mayhem. He clears the corner and continues backward for another two blocks before the car slows to a full stop, a groan escaping his lips. “Fuck.”

Glancing out the window, you see four stray zombies stumbling toward you. “Uh, guys? We have a bit of a problem.”

Namjoon curses and begins digging through the stash of weapons at his feet, pulling out several long knives and an axe you’d taken from the farmhouse. “We don’t stand a chance without a car,” he mutters as he pulls out supplies. “Yoongi, grab the gas. I’ll watch your back while you fill up the tank. Jungkook, be ready to drive at a moment’s notice. {Name}...” He grins, handing you the rifle to join the pistol you already have at your side. “You’re on sniper duty. But save it as a last resort, okay? Gunshots will draw even more attention to us, which is the last thing we need right now.”

“Got it,” you say, accepting the box of ammunition he slides over and ignoring the way your heart begins to pound in your chest. “Stay safe out there, okay?”

Namjoon presses a quick kiss to your mouth, ignoring the disgusted sound Jungkook makes. “I will, don’t worry. Be back soon.” And then he’s hopping out of the car, joining Yoongi at the gas tank and scanning the street for any approaching threats. The four zombies at the end of the street are still a block and a half away, but the distance doesn’t make you feel any better as you watch Namjoon and Yoongi standing out in the open, unprotected. Through the open window, you can hear Yoongi cursing, hands shaking as he opens up the gas can.

Bang!

A young man bursts out of an apartment complex just up the street, the door slamming against the brick wall behind it. Even from a block away, you can see the frantic expression on his face as he dashes outside without taking proper stock of his surroundings. Your mouth opens to shout a warning—beside you, you can see Jungkook about to do the same—but it’s already too late. The zombies are upon him before he can even scream, rotting teeth tearing into his flesh and ripping chunks away until he’s reduced to a huddled mass of blood and viscera on the ground, deathly still and silent.

Then, to your absolute disbelief, the man is crawling to his feet again, his stance lopsided and his expression blank. Half of his jaw has been torn away, exposing teeth, and your stomach squirms at the sight of his fresh wounds still oozing crimson.

“Holy shit!” Jungkook screeches, whirling around to face you with wild eyes. “We need to get out of here!”

“I know, dumbass!” you yell back, craning your head back to check on your other two companions only to nearly jump out of your skin when the door flies open in your face.

“It’s me!” Namjoon shouts, sliding into his seat. Up front, Yoongi is already seated, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Drive, Jungkook!”

Jungkook lets loose a colorful string of curses and fumbles to start the engine, eyes skittering between the steering wheel and the approaching zombies. “Come on, come on—”

“WAIT!”

All four of you whirl around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. A split second later, a young man with fluffy blond hair pops up in your window, followed quickly by another man with longer, dark brown hair. “Please wait!” the blond man entreaties, wincing when you let out a startled yelp and slam a hand against the glass. “Please!”

“Who the fuck are you?” you gasp.

“My name’s Jimin, and this is Taehyung,” he says, glancing over to where the zombies are rapidly approaching. “You have to take us with you!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to butt in. “What the fuck? No way! How do we know you’re not infected?”

“We’re not!” It’s Taehyung who speaks this time, his voice low but no less urgent than Jimin’s. “Please, you have to believe us.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Yoongi growls. “We don’t know you—you could be trying to kill us, for all we know.”

“Why the hell would we kill you?” Jimin yelps, looking offended by the very idea.

“We’re not zombies, I promise” Taehyung adds, frowning. “No need to be so paranoid.”

“I think a healthy dose of paranoia is a good thing in this situation!” Yoongi snaps.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Namjoon’s pensive expression, his chin jutting out in the way it does when he’s focused. “Joon? You okay?”

His frown deepens. “I think we have to let them in.”

Yoongi balks. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No, seriously. Remember what Jin said in that broadcast—about how quickly an infected person’s vocal chords deteriorate? There’s no way they’d be talking if they were infected. Absolutely none.”

Jimin claps. “Exactly! Now can you please unlock the door?”

You look at Namjoon, who nods. Jungkook groans and Yoongi slaps a hand over his eyes, but you nod back and reach over to flip the switch, the door unlocking with an audible click.

“Thank you so much,” Jimin chants as he piles into the backseat in a mess of limbs. “Thank you. Holy shit, thank you.” Taehyung follows after him, slamming the door shut, and you grunt when Jimin scoots over to give him a little more room and nearly elbows you in the face.

“Careful,” Namjoon cautions, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging until you are practically seated in his lap. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung make themselves comfortable, carefully avoiding the bags of supplies on the floor as Jungkook starts the car.

“Thanks again,” Jimin repeats earnestly once he’s settled in. “I know it must’ve been hard sticking your necks out like that, but we really do appreciate it.”

“Why were you even out in the open like that?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at Jimin. “Isn’t there supposed to be a quarantine zone somewhere in this godforsaken city?”

Taehyung nods. “Yeah, it’s in the city center, past the river. We were headed there ourselves, but then the explosion happened.”

“You guys must’ve seen it,” Jimin says. “Few blocks back, rocks and garbage everywhere? We think it was a gas leak, but who knows? It totaled our car, and we’ve been on foot ever since.”

Yoongi looks a little abashed. “Sorry to hear that.”

Jimin shrugs and offers him a crooked grin. “It’s all good. We’re still here now, and we’re still alive. That’s really all that matters.”

///

As it turns out, Jimin is a cadet in the local police academy—something you discover when his jacket falls open to reveal an impressive array of weapons strapped to his belt. Taehyung is an art history student, but between his fondness for paintball and his childhood on a farm, you quickly find that he’s almost just as well-versed in marksmanship as Jimin.

In the last ten minutes, however, Taehyung has fallen oddly silent. A glance over at the brown-haired man reveals that he is staring out the window, lost in thought as buildings rush by. Jimin is still chattering about the academy to a very interested Namjoon, but you don’t miss the occasional furtive glance he gives his friend, his brow creasing briefly in concern before he manages to smooth his expression out again.

Up ahead, you catch a glimpse of the river—a ribbon of blue snaking its way through the city. “There’s a big bend in the river, kind of like a horseshoe, right around the downtown area,” Jimin explains. “I think it was some kind of fortress back in the day, before the rest of the city was built around it. Most of the walls are still standing—historical preservation and whatnot—so the only way to get there is by crossing the bridge or going through the tunnel. And I’m like ninety percent sure they’ve already closed the tunnel down.”

“Bridge it is, then,” Yoongi says. “You know how to get us there?”

“Yeah, you take a left at the next light and then—”

“Can we actually stop here for a minute?”

Everyone glances back at Taehyung, who seems to have finally found his voice again. “Stop?” Namjoon asks, a frown etching its way across his face. “Why?”

Taehyung sucks in a deep breath, his gaze darting over to an unassuming brick building on the corner. “It’s just that… that’s where my little sister lives.”

And in an instant, you understand. You understand why he’s been so quiet this entire time, and why he’s been gazing out the window so wistfully. Jungkook steps on the brake, and the car rolls to a slow stop at the curb. “I get it,” he mutters, his fingers tight around the steering wheel. “I’d… I’d want to check too, if it were my brother.”

Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung smiles weakly, mumbling his thanks, and Jimin takes his hand with a reassuring smile. “Come on, Tae. Let’s go get Eonjin.”

“I’ll come too,” Jungkook volunteers, hopping out of the driver’s seat. “You might need the extra help.”

Yoongi sighs and exits the car as well, glancing back at you and Namjoon. “Guess I should stretch my legs too. You two wanna watch the car?

You nod. “We can do that.”

Yoongi nods back and follows the other three men into the building. You watch as they disappear into its dark depths, letting out a soft sigh.

“Do you think they’ll find her?”

Namjoon hums. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I hope so, for Taehyung’s sake. But I really don’t know if they will.”

You sigh again, shifting into a more comfortable position on his lap and letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. His arms tighten around your waist, and you shiver as his warm breath caresses your neck. “I’m glad my parents are overseas on a cruise right now,” you say softly. “They posted photos just yesterday, so I guess that means that whatever this epidemic is, it isn’t a global thing.”

“You’re lucky,” Namjoon mumbles. “I haven’t heard from my parents yet.”

You stiffen in his embrace. “You… you haven’t? Oh my god, Joon, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to shrug off your concern, but you don’t miss the way his throat bobs harshly as he swallows. “It is what it is,” he says after a few seconds. “I’ve heard from my sister, at least. She says she’ll be making her way here in the next day or two.”

“That’s good,” you murmur. You don’t know what else you could possibly say, and Namjoon, luckily, seems to understand.

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over the two of you, then—each of you lost in your own thoughts. Even though you’re so close to your destination now, it still feels far—as if it’s a mirage that will disappear if you so much as breathe the wrong way. You don’t know what awaits you, and for a moment, you’re terrified of the possibilities. But Namjoon’s arms remain wound around you, his presence warm and reassuring even now, and you think to yourself that maybe—just maybe—everything will be all right.

And then Jimin’s banging on your window again, forcibly pulling you out of your stupor. “Guys! Guys! It’s Tae—he’s been bitten!”

A beat passes. His words take a second to register in your brain—Tae, bitten—almost as if they don’t make sense together. It’s a sentence you never wanted to hear, and your limbs suddenly feel like they’ve been submerged in water, slow and heavy and dragging.

Namjoon, however, is up in an instant. “Where is he now?” he asks, throwing the door open and laying a hand on Jimin’s shoulder as he blabbers on. “Is he bleeding? Is he hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no—” Jimin looks close to tears. “It’s just—it all happened so fast. We were in Eonjin’s apartment but she wasn’t home, and then this guy came out of nowhere and—and…” He trails off, gesturing weakly behind him. “Look for yourselves.”

Yoongi and Jungkook stumble their way out of the building, supporting a pale-looking Taehyung between them. Blood drips down his wrist and onto the sidewalk, and the sight of the bright red liquid shakes off any stupor you might have been under. Delving into the backpack full of supplies from the farmhouse, you pull out the first-aid kit, brandishing it in the air as you jump out of the SUV. “He’s losing way too much blood,” you say, pulling out a roll of bandages and a tube of ointment, handing the rest of the kit over to Namjoon. “We have to stop it.”

“This isn’t exactly a safe spot for medical procedures,” Yoongi points out, gesturing around the street with his free hand. “We’re out in the open, totally exposed.”

“Then we’ll get back in the car,” Namjoon says. “We can drive and patch him up at the same time.”

“But he’s infected,” Jungkook whispers. “What happens when he… y’know. Turns?”

None of you have an answer for that. Jimin’s running his hands frantically through his hair, and you can practically see the desperation swimming in his honey brown eyes. “We can’t just leave him behind,” he murmurs. “We can’t.”

“Then we won’t,” you tell him, stepping up to Taehyung and slathering a generous amount of ointment on the bite wound. Then you pull off a short section of bandage, tying it around his upper arm like a tourniquet. “We’re going to get you in the car now, Tae. Is that okay? Can you still walk?”

Taehyung blinks dazedly, his brown eyes taking a few seconds to focus properly on you. “I… I think so. Hang on. Lemme try.”

Namjoon nearly drops the first-aid kit. “Wait, did you just talk?”

Taehyung blinks again, swaying slightly on his feet. “Yes?”

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Wait, but infected people can’t talk. Their vocal chords…”

“... deteriorate,” Namjoon finishes for you. “Yeah. So then that begs the question: why can Taehyung still talk?”

For the second time in as many minutes, none of you have an answer. “Tae,” you try again. “How do you feel right now?”

Taehyung’s mouth pulls down into a slow frown. “I feel… slow. A little muddled, I guess? No brain eating urges or anything though, which is nice. Brains probably don’t taste very good.”

“No,” you say, exchanging a glance with your equally flabbergasted companions. “I can’t imagine they would.”

///

Not twenty minutes later, you are driving across the bridge that leads to your final destination. A rather formidable wall with an even more formidable gate stands in your way, and you watch as several guards peer out from over the top, weapons drawn and at the ready.

“Stop right there!” the guard stationed on the ground commands, his gun trained on the SUV. “Get out of the vehicle with your hands up and identify yourselves one by one.”

“My name is Kim Namjoon,” Namjoon says, clambering out with his palms extended. You follow after him, stating your name as well, and the guard directs both of you to stand against the wall, calling for a man named Seokjin to come check your vitals as your companions continue introducing themselves.

A minute later, a smaller door to the right of the gate opens, and out walks a man wearing a white coat and a genial smile. “Sorry about this,” he says, adjusting his stethoscope. “Proper procedure and all that. You can never be too careful, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, pulling the collar of your shirt aside so he can listen to your heartbeat. “This is hardly the worst thing to happen to us in the last few days.”

The young doctor laughs—a high, squeaky sound that reminds you of a windshield wiper. “Touché,” he says, waving Namjoon over so he can listen to his heart as well. “Well, look at that! You both appear to be alive—congratulations! It’s nice to meet you.”

His laughter is contagious, and you can’t help the answering giggle that bubbles up in your chest and escapes into the open air. “Nice to meet you too, Doctor.”

He grimaces, flapping a hand at you. “Please, call me Jin. Everyone does. Doctor makes me sound way too stuffy.”

The sound of the familiar name has your eyebrows flying up into your hairline. You exchange a glance with Namjoon, who looks equally shocked, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he ventures, “Jin? Does that mean you’re one half of the 2J radio broadcast?”

Jin’s face splits into a delighted grin. “It sure does! Were you guys listening to us?”

You nod. “It was the only station we could find. I don’t think we’d be here if it weren’t for you and Jay.”

His grin broadens. “His real name’s Hoseok, actually—I had to talk him into the nickname. Took me ages.” Then his expression sobers. “That’s great to hear about the broadcast, though. Really. We weren’t sure that we were reaching people, but it’s nice to know that we definitely are. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him earnestly.

Jin grins. “You’re welcome,” he says, waving goodbye as he moves on to check on everyone else’s vitals. He makes friendly smalltalk with Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin as he listens to their heartbeats, but frowns when he reaches Taehyung, regarding him a little more closely. Jimin looks on anxiously, twisting the hem of his jacket, and you and Namjoon wordlessly sidle closer, ready to defend your friend if the need arose.

“You look a little pale,” Jin says, but his voice isn’t accusatory. “Are you feeling okay?”

Taehyung shrugs vaguely, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve been better.”

Namjoon chooses that moment to step forward, keeping his voice low and guarded. “Jin, you know a lot about the zombies, right?”

Jin nods. “I’ve been conducting research, yeah. It’s slow going though.”

Jimin eyes Jin warily. “What would you say if we told you that one of us was immune to the zombie virus?”

Jin’s mouth falls open, his gaze immediately landing on Taehyung again as he leans closer and stares intently at his pupils. “Immunity? Now that’s interesting,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing his hands together. “That could change everything.”

Taehyung blinks blearily at him. “What are you going on about?”

Jin just laughs. “They’re clear,” he calls to the guard, who nods and returns to the guardhouse. Once he’s gone, Jin claps his hands together and beams. “All right!” he exclaims. “Let’s get you all settled in, shall we?”

“What are you going to do to Tae?” Jimin asks suspiciously, scooting a little closer to his friend.

“Absolutely nothing, if I don’t have his permission,” Jin promises. “But guys, think about it. Someone who’s immune? I could learn so much about what’s causing that immunity if I ran a few tests… maybe even find a cure, eventually. It’s an incredible opportunity.” Upon seeing Jimin’s lingering distrust, however, he stops and laughs again. “But honestly, I won’t do a thing if he doesn’t want me to. Right now, I just want to help you get settled in. All of you need lots of rest and a proper meal. Doctor’s orders, okay?”

Jimin nods. “Fine.”

Up ahead, the gate is slowly beginning to creak open. Jin is welcoming all of you to Sonyeo City, but you barely hear him. Your focus is on Namjoon and Namjoon alone, his presence warm and reassuring as he finds your hand and laces your fingers together. 

“Ready?” he asks.

You suck in a deep, steadying breath and squeeze his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

[ahgastae]

phantasm (pt.1) – namjoon x reader

➥ word count: 1.6k | fluff

➥ m.list

➥ a/n: this is a wip i’ve been saving for a while lol. it’s *technically* a rewrite of an extremely old one-shot i had that didn’t quite turn out how i wanted it so here we are!! i’m thinking of making it a series that i kinda just update whenever i feel like/have time to work on it but idk. feedback is always appreciated, and thanks for reading! ♡

An aggravated sigh leaves your lips, giving up on yet another failed attempt to force the basement door open. The metal handle remains stuck no matter what you do or how hard you push, and at this point you’re starting to run out of ideas. 

Part of you wonders how you managed to get yourself into this situation; locked in the basement of some musty, old abandoned hospital. It’s not exactly everyday people willingly wander into places like this, and you would normally be one of the ones who stayed as far away as fucking possible.

So what changed? What made you take the risk? And how the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?

“Why in the hell would I ever want to do that?” You quirk a brow at your best friend, popping another fry into your mouth as you do. “Actually, scratch that, why the hell would you ever agree to that?” 

The unamused look on Hoseok’s face makes you want to laugh, but you cover it up with another sip of your chocolate shake.

“Because,” Hoseok grumbles with a roll of his eyes, “those little shits can be very persuasive when they want to be. I didn’t want to be the only one in the group who didn’t go, you know?”

You nod your head understandingly, “So you didn’t want to be the one to pussy out.”

“Y/N!”

You burst into a fit of laughter, barely dodging the onion ring he throws your way. Hoseok rolls his eyes again, and the furrow in his brow makes you realize he’s a lot more serious about this than you first thought.

“Okay, okay.” By the time you manage to contain yourself, his scowl has softened slightly. “But if all the guys are going, why do you want me to go so badly?”

Hoseok scoffs, “Uh, are you kidding? That place is going to be creepy as all hell, and I need my best friend there to provide some serious emotional support. And to keep Jungkook from posting videos of me freaking out on Twitter again.”

You both cringe, clearly remembering the last time he got sucked into one of these “adventurous” outings. Jungkook got the silent treatment for a solid three weeks because that clip of Hoseok screaming at a pigeon went viral. The kid still apologizes to this day, but you have a sneaking suspicion he’s behind some of the (admittedly hilarious) edits that have cropped up.

It makes sense for that reason alone as to why Hoseok would want you to tag along, but you’re honestly just as much of a scaredy cat as he is. You’re a lot better at keeping it under wraps, though, always coming up with some excuse for why you can’t go exploring whatever creepy abandoned place his friends want to check out next. But Hoseok has never been the one to ask until now, and you’re more than a little conflicted about it.

“I don’t know, Hobi,” You sigh, glancing down at your half eaten burger. “This has always kinda been your guys’ thing, you know? I’m not really into any of that.”

“Honestly, most of us aren’t, either,” Hoseok shrugs. “The only ones who really like it are Tae, Yoongi, and Kook. The rest of us are kinda just along for the ride.”

“You mean the ride through every possibly haunted, definitely dangerous place in the area.”

“Yeah…”

A small silence falls in between you, and you briefly wonder how in the hell he ever thought this was meant to convince you. Sure, he took you out to lunch, said you could get as many milkshake refills as you desired, put on those heart wrenching puppy dog eyes that you always have to struggle to ignore. But is it really worth getting the shit scared out of you with him and his six friends? One of whom might “accidentally” post a video of you losing your mind over something stupid?

You aren’t ready to become a Twitter meme!

With that terrifying thought, your mind is finally made up. You’re just about to open your mouth and tell Hoseok you just absolutely cannot–

“Joonreallywantedtoknowifyouweregoingtocome!”

The words leave his mouth in a jumbled mess, but you make them out clear as day. You should’ve known that’s the game he was playing. There’s no way Jung Hoseok would come to you with a request like this without having some kind of backup plan. And, unfortunately, his role as your best friend means he knows all about your little crush on the de facto leader of his friend group. You just never thought he’d be so prepared to openly exploit it.

“So what do you say?” Hoseok bites his lip from across the table, and you have a sneaking suspicion he already knows what your answer is going to be.

“...Fine. I’ll go on your stupid ghost trip,” You grumble, a bright smile appearing on Hoseok’s face as he starts to thank you rapidly. “But I’ll break that kid’s phone if he so much as tries to record me!”

Your threat falls on deaf ears, Hoseok already whipping out his phone to presumably tell the other guys. Part of you wants to be mad that you let yourself get played so easily, but does it really count if you knew that’s what he was trying to do?

Eh, whatever. At least he’s happy. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually end up enjoying yourself after all.

So that was a fucking lie.

You haven’t even been out of the car for five minutes, and you’re already starting to regret leaving your apartment this afternoon. Hoseok said you guys were going to check out some old hospital on the outskirts of town when he picked you up, but you had no idea he meant this far out.

The woods surrounding the “hospital” aren’t particularly thick, but it’s just enough to where you know it’ll terrify the shit out of you when the sun starts to go down. You’re honestly not sure if you’d rather be stuck out here or in the creepy ass building in front of you when that happens. But, if all the guys currently standing around Taehyung’s truck are anything to go by, that decision might be made a lot sooner than you think.

 “Y/N!” One of them suddenly calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Stop being a weenie and get your ass over here!”

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself off from your spot leaning against Hoseok’s car and make your way over to the truck bed. The three younger ones are huddled around some sheets of paper in the bed while Jin and Hoseok fiddle with some flashlights and batteries near the open passenger seat. You head over to Hoseok first, curious about the two missing from your party. 

“Hey, where are Joon and Yoongi? I thought you said everyone was coming.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be here,” Hoseok laughs. “Joonie just had to finish up some stuff at work real quick. I’m sure they won’t be long.”

You nod, crossing your arms and scanning over the building in front of you. It definitely looks old. What used to be white paint has faded to a dark, muddy grey, and the windows are either smashed to bits or boarded over with moldy planks of wood. There’s stray graffiti scattered all over the place, the parking lot barely distinguishable from the overgrown weeds and shrubs surrounding the area.

Honestly, everything about it just screams “Danger! Stay the fuck away!” to you. How in the hell did the guys even find this place?

“Ah, fucking finally!”

You’re jolted out of your thoughts once again by one of the boys shouting from the truck bed. It must have been Jungkook, since he’s the one who jumps out and starts running towards the car pulling into the clearing.

Wait, a car? That could only mean-

The car slows to a stop behind Taehyung’s truck, and sure enough, you can just barely see the two boys you were asking about waving to you all inside. Well, one of them is waving. The other seems to be focused on parking without running over the energetic Kook jumping around the car.

You can kind of relate to the younger boy’s excitement, but the butterflies in your stomach are for an entirely different reason.

“What took you guys so long?” Jungkook whines, greeting the two newcomers as soon as they step out of the vehicle. “We were supposed to get into the building before it got dark!”

“I know, I know,” Namjoon apologizes. “We would’ve been here a lot sooner, but-”

“But someone kept insisting on grading ‘one more spelling quiz’ before we left.”

Yoongi’s grumpy pout is as evident as ever as he wholeheartedly throws his roommate under the bus. The three of them have joined the rest of the group now, the other two youngsters leaning over the side of the truck bed.

“You weren’t thinking of ditching us for some second graders, were you, Mr. Kim?” Taehyung teases, quirking an amused brow.

Jimin falls into giggles, “That sounds exactly like something he would do!”

“Hey, I promised the kids I would have them all handed back by Monday!”

Namjoon’s desperate attempts to defend himself are ignored, and you can’t help but smile at the small pout that crosses his face. It’s short lived, though, as Jungkook soon calls everyone’s attention back to him as he hops back up onto Taehyung’s truck.

“Alright, losers, now that we’re all finally here,” A mischievous grin grows on the maknae’s lips. “let’s get down to business.”

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part II

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader 

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone experiences exhaustion. Some handle it differently than others.

You can read the first part here

Tech swore he’d seen something as the transport had skimmed the tree line in an attempt to cruise under Separatist radar. A dark shape, springing from through the deep red treetops, attempting to keep up with the Havoc Marauder. 

That’s how Hunter found himself an unwilling student to Tech’s lecture on Anaxes’ native fauna.

“Did you know fyrnocks typically roost in tree canopies? They’re almost entirely nocturnal and are incredibly light sensitive but they don’t sleep underground.”

Hunter nods vacantly, knowing that once Tech started on a topic it was best to let it run its course. Wrecker and Crosshair were both asleep in the cargo bay. It was upto one of them to keep their brain occupied while his battery wore down. 

Even exhausted, Tech’s mind never seemed to slow, jumping from one topic to the next. Exhaustion only seemed to bring to surface the more obscure things he fixated on. At least he wasn’t focusing on languages this go around. 

Last mission Wrecker sat with him for over two hours as he’d slipped in and out of Shyriiwook. Wrecker, never to be confused with an intellectual, had smiled and nodded to his young vod before he’d finally burned through enough energy to pass out over the ships console.

“It’s thought that the species as a whole springs from a single mother entity.” Tech looks up to see if Hunter was still listening “it’s all very fascinating.”

Tech types away at the small datapad secured to his vambrace. “There’s even some chatter about them being linked to the dark side of the Force. Can you imagine? I mean, from what I understand of the Force-“

“Tech” Hunter interrupts gruffly “save it until after debrief with Commander Cody?”

With a flip of the wrist, the younger clone closes the pad. “Of course Sarge, just thought it was interesting” 

“It is but we’re all running on fumes at this point. Not sure any of it is sinking in.” He taps at his temple and Tech nods.

“Understood.”

“Plus, we’re only a few klicks away from base and I need you to organize your part of the debrief.”

Tech nods before flipping the datapad back open and beginning to splice together the data he’d collected during recon.

------

You’ve been on Anaxes for two weeks. It still felt foreign, sleeping in the depths of the caverns the base had been built in and around was seriously beginning to mess with your internal clock. No windows to show you night or day, no warming from the sun or cooling as twin moons rose into the sky. You’d never been so thankful for your chronometer. It was hard to sleep as you adjusted to the new environment. While it left you exhausted you also had yet to be late for your shifts already up before you chrono had to wake you. You’d consider it a win.

You were weary of seeing clones on the edge of death, mangled and passed off to you like they were no more than broken droids, only their brothers and a few of the generals seeming to worry about their well being. It wasn’t right. You’re heart hurt and while the other staff had either their clone brothers or other civilians to cling to you seemed to be left to your own devices, as if everyone else could just sense that you weren’t like them. Like on Kiros.

Your people believed only the strong survived. If you couldn’t keep up the Togruta left you behind. Your belief in the value of life made you an outsider within your own tribe. You believed life needn’t validate itself to matter. Simply existing in the first place gave it meaning.

It was a highly unpopular opinion.

The sheer number of casualties you saw roll in daily was another change from your post on Coruscant. Generally, by the time you’d seen the troopers there they’d been stabilized and needed supportive care. Anaxes brought you the worst of the worst straight from the front lines. The GAR was taking mass losses, entire squads destroyed in the blink of an eye without warning. You’d lost count of the number of Clones who’d taken their last breath in your presence. You’d never experienced anything like it on Coruscant and your training had done nothing to truly prepare you for the crushing feeling each loss brought to you and the rest of the medical staff.

You swish your mug around before bring it to your lips taking another swallow of caf. It had gone cold long ago, forgotten when the last emergency had rolled through the doors. You fantasized about a hot mug of it to soothe your throat. You kept up a steady stream of talk when you worked.  Your patients always knew exactly what you were doing and your colleagues knew exactly what you were seeing. You’d heard some other medics comment on how annoying it was but you were never going to be accused of not communicating effectively, not when troopers lives could depend on it.

 A side effect of hours of talking were often a scratchy, dry throat and a hoarseness that silenced you for the rest of the day. It was ok. Outside of the medbay you were never really sure what to say. Your confidence in your professional skill did not cross over to personal affairs. 

“Y/N?” It was one of the clone medics, Kix, from the 501st. He was amiable enough and seemed easy to get along with the few times you’d worked together.

The empty mug was set aside, to be forgotten till a later time when desperation drove you to more of the swamp water that sat bubbling bitterly in the break room.

“I’ve got a squad coming in off a recon run. They’re due for a once over so the powers that be are going to send them down after debrief.” Kix looked on edge as he spoke and you cocked your head trying to figure out what he was saying between the lines.

“You want me to do it?” You knew how to do what he was asking, you just weren’t sure why he was asking you of all people.

“Uh, the boys in 99 don’t much care for other clones.”

That was a new one.

“I can do it Kix” you nod reassuringly. “Don’t worry, ok?” A knot was beginning to tangle in your stomach. You brush off the feeling and try to give the clone your most reassuring smile. 

Clones that didn’t like other clones? You hadn’t heard of such a thing outside of the Coruscant Guard. 

Those guys were dicks.

Kix seems relieved, running a hand over his face roughly “I owe you. I’ll have them sent over to Exam 3 when they’re done?”

“Make it 5” you correct “they’re still getting blood off the floor in 3 and 4”

-----

Crosshair is spitting mad by the time The Bad Batch is dismissed from Cody’s debrief and Tech can’t figure out why. He just had to acknowledge that  pissed off was simply the sniper’s default setting. Tech figures he’s mad no one was willing to take the bait and give him the fight he was looking for.

To his left Hunter seemed as relaxed as Hunter could be, ever vigilant eyes scanning the halls as they traveled. 

Per usual, Wrecker was all smiles (if maybe slightly menacing ones) as they entered the lift down to medical.

Tech was pleased. He’d been told the intel would be useful. No one had insulted anyone. No punches had been thrown. It all seemed pretty good as far as he was concerned. All they had to do now was do a quick medical check and they were good to go for at least a solid day of rest before their next assignment. he falls in behind the others while they queued into a single file in front of him, each dipping into the room in turn for their scan. Hunter is in and out before Tech can blink, same for Crosshair. 

Wrecker was never the best behaved for the medical staff. He just didn't like medical. Tech couldn't blame him.  Hunter and Crosshair wait for a few minutes, making sure they weren’t needed to calm the big man down, before the excuse themselves to the small barracks the four of them called home.

Tech uses the wait to browse the holonet for anything that might pique his curiosity and bookmarks a couple things to look into once he could crawl into his rack.

When Wrecker pops out of the exam room with a sucker tucked into his cheek some twenty minutes later without any shouting following him, Tech takes notice.

“It’s stormfruit, man” Wrecker hums around the sucker “I like this one” He tips his head back toward the exam room as one big mitt cuffs Tech on the shoulder, knocking him back a step as he passes by. 

Tech doesn’t bother to take his helmet off when a bright voice calls “Next!” 

He’s greeted by the sight of a dimpled Togruta smiling up at him from her spot on a stool.

“Hey you must be…” she glances quickly at her datapad resting on her crossed knee “Tech?”

The voice is exceedingly familiar but he doesn’t know the face as she motions to the table. His feet stutter step as he moves further in the exam room, taking a seat on the table the composite of his armor clanks loudly. 

“Long day?” The medic asks and he nods, eyes narrowed as he rifles though his mental files. He knew that voice.

“You're not gonna give me trouble like the last one, right?” She starts, “it took me half a dozen lollys to convince him to let me scan him. I’m starting to think he played me, ya know?”

He nods again.

“You don’t talk much do you? Nexu got your tongue?”

Tech huffs quietly, flipping his visor up to view her without the incandescent screen in the way.

“I think you're the only person that’s ever said that.” He chuckles.

She beams at him, squinting and searching his face.

“Yeah? I won’t complain about being your first.” She teases before her cheeks, already a rich color, flush brightly. When she smiles nervously he sees the quick pearly flash of her incisors. He liked the way she smiled at him. It makes his stomach flip in a vaguely familiar way.

That’s when the data points come together. The realization hits him.

He’d often wondered what Grutababy looked like, curiosity only reaching a fever pitch after their conversation on the comms. He’d lay awake at night, while his brothers slept and try to piece together what she might look like, cursing himself for never once asking for a picture. 

His mind would run through the many sentient species he was familiar with as he’d try to place the voice from their lone conversation to it it had become a game. Twi’lek, Mirialan, human… Togruta?

It makes sense now, her profile name. Grutababy. Really it shouldn’t have taken a genius level IQ to figure that out. 

He watches her lekku sway gently as she moves through the room. Her skin, somewhere between red and pink, reminds him of a sunset he’d once seen on an outer rim planet, the name of which he’s since forgotten. 

The white markings of her people cross from one temple to the other, circling her eye like a mask. Others travel in soft swooping lines from the outer corners of her eyes down, crossing at plump lips and fading out at her chin. A small diamond shaped mark rests above each brow. 

Her eyes are a pale, icy blue. The overall effect is… stunning. 

She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined (and he’d tried).

“This may sound weird-” she hums” her fingers fumble for her scanner, nearly dropping it off the counter. Frowning, she taps it against the heel of her palm when it refuses to turn on.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times.

Tech winces, wants to tell her that there was no evidence that treating a device like that would make it work. On the contrary it would often-

The scanner buzzes to life and a triumphant smile lights her features.

“Like, I was saying, it may sound weird. I just get the feeling….”

Tech swallows hard.

She lets out a nervous laugh and waves it off, “Nevermind, ignore me. Not enough sleep or caf and I’m imagining things”

Something akin to disappointment filters through his chest as she rubs the back of a montrail nervously. He wonders if he should tell her? She interrupts his train of thought with a deep breath and the moment has passed. She's all business now as she adjusts the scanner in her grip.

“So Trooper, how about we get your scan done and you can go get the sleep that I’m not.” 

[pastryseungs]

Nightmare High (2016)

Dir. Hyun Moon-Sub

⚠️ Spoilers !! ⚠️

i started watching this because i keep seeing this on Netflix and my curiosity got the best of me hehe. also because i’m quite impressed with Kim So-Hyun’s acting skills and she’s also one of my favorite Korean actors, because of her performance in Love Alarm (2019).

lmao so i finished this show a couple of days ago and i was supposed to post this after but i decided to collect my thoughts first so i could make this post work haha. i tend to forget what i just watched five minutes after watching it sometimes (its not a quirky thing ;-; i tend to get surprised that i just finished another show that i forget what just happened lol).

anyways, i kinda liked this drama, though i felt like it was a bit of a slow-burn, it showed what the characters were like if they were given the chance to play god, which led to them abusing it then wanting it to stop when they get overwhelmed by it. here’s a list of my thoughts on each characters’ stories :v

1. Kim Seul-Gi

the name reminds me so much of Seulgi (Kang Seulgi) from Red Velvet lmaoo. Kim Seulgi (Seo Shin-ae) was considered as their class’ “outcast”, with her classmates going out of their way to talk about how she’s invisible and that she’s worthless before proceeding to mess with her stuff. being fed up with her bullies, she decides to go to the counseling office and talk to Mr. Han/Han Bong-Gu (Uhm Ki-Joon) who gives her the layout of their classroom and a red pen, telling her to connect her name with a classmates name with a red line if she wants to be friends with them. after trying this, her classmates start acting nice to her, which eventually led to her not being given the time to be alone and to be with the people that she wants to be with, which then led to her asking Mr. Han if he could reverse the whole thing and go back to normal.

Seul-Gi’s story was honestly a bit sad and frustrating with me. this is why you shouldn’t give people the chance to play god or the chance to control their fate and their surroundings, it just won’t end well. the girl just wanted to have friends that genuinely care for her. the solution that Mr. Han gave her was addicting at first but when it all backfired on her, she decided that maybe it wasn’t for her at all. sadly, she had no other choice but to be trapped in that mirror.

Seul-Gi deserved better :<

2. Oh Ki-Chul

Oh Ki-Chul (Baek Sung-Do) is a student that participates in wrestling/boxing/fighting matches. (??) after a while of not participating, he stumbles upon two students that are fighting and decides to break it up. he was then met with what looks like a student who was also the group’s ‘leader’ telling him that one of the rules of fighting was to never butt-in on someone else’s fight. he was then dared to participate in a fight but turned down the offer as he planned not to do it until he graduates.

after a series of provoking and starting to participate again in other fights. Oh Ki-Chul and Mr. Han spoke about him joining fights, before Mr. Han puts Ki-Chul in a trance to help him see if he’ll win or not. he decides to use this to his advantage, memorizing what he has to do in order to win his fights in the future. eventually, he too had to sign a contract with his blood- like every victim of Mr. Han’s to continue receiving this kind of privilege which eventually led him to being trapped in a mirror too.

my main takeaway from Ki-Chul’s story was that it was kinda weird that Mr. Han just watched from the sidelines instead of holding Ki-Chul back and try to change his mind into not participating in the fight. sadly, he’s not like other Homeroom teachers. for others, they’d probably say that he’s provoking these students into wanting more.. but i think that he’s actually giving them the taste of their own medicine if they decide to abuse their desires if it were given to them. but i still think that Mr. Han’s a bad guy lmao duh.

3. Ahn Si-Yeon

first of all, i think that Ahn Si-Yeon (Kim Da-Ye) is so adorable !! her character gives me fangirl vibes ✨ sadly, she had to fall for Mr. Han’s trap too. it first started when her classmates accused her of lying to them about her having a boyfriend who lives in Boston, with them purposely making her “overhear” their conversations about someone they know that lies about their personal life. i didn’t really get why she had to lie though, i’m quite convinced that she did that to gain more friends. sadly, they had to pry and pry to the point that she had to find a solution to their nosiness, she started it anyway. Si-Yeon went to the counseling room to talk to Mr. Han, where she was given a notebook to write down her desires. now this part gave me Death Note (2006) vibes.. but with less people dying from heart attacks lmao.

after writing down on the ✨ magical ✨ notebook, her ‘boyfriend’ from Boston suddenly appears out of nowhere, apologizing for taking so long to arrive and be there with her. surprised with her wishes being granted by the notebook, Mr. Han gives her the option to sign a contract with her blood or everything goes back to the way it was.

Si-Yeon then continues making ‘things’ happen through her notebook, until she decided that she didn’t want to continue using the notebook anymore and that she wanted everything to go back to normal. unfortunately, burning the notebook didn’t do anything which eventually caused her to be trapped in the mirror as well.

4. Chun Jae-Soo

duuuude, my fujoshi side is jumping out i hate myself lmao anywayss i can’t help but ship Jae-Soo (Jang Kyoung-Up) to Ko Ki-Tae (Ji Eun-Sung), they all so give me Kaneki and Hide vibes from Tokyo Ghoul (2014) !!

anyways, Jae-Soo’s story was pretty sad for me but it was kind of a slow burn? idk, maybe i wasn’t paying much attention or time went by slowly for me that day.. but he got so dependent on the drinks that Mr. Han was giving him that he eventually forgot everyone, even his bestfriend! which made him resort to writing the important details of his life on his arms and on the chair of his desk. i was so sad when Ki-Tae saw Jae-Soo’s arms :< he definitely knew what was wrong with his best friend but couldn’t think of a way to help him without the other thinking that he’s prying. ngl though, i honestly thought that Ki-Tae was using Jae-Soo at first but was then convinced that they were actually best friends.

Jae-Soo’s dependence on the drink eventually made him forget his name, even where he was and where his classroom was. which gave Mr. Han the advantage to trap him inside the mirror as well.

5. Do Do-Hee

Do-Hee (Kim Ji-An) is considered as the queen in her class and was even in their school, Yosan High’s advertisement poster. unfortunately, her boyfriend, Lee Jong-Suk (Kwon Young-Min) cheated on her with a student from the lower level. she was then replaced on the poster with the same girl, which fueled her anger and jealousy towards the new couple. thinking that her beauty is disappearing and she’s being replaced as the prettiest girl in their class, Do-Hee stumbles upon an app that gives her the look she wants with one click. unfortunately, it doesn’t last long and she’ll have to sign a contract with Mr. Han so she could continue using it.

Do-Hee’s features start to get more enhanced, with female students in their school asking her how she got and maintained the far from natural look.. which eventually caused her and Jong-Suk to get back together. after a few weeks of dating, Do-Hee catches Jong-Suk talking to the same girl and retaliated by pouring water all over the two.

unfortunately, her beauty also disappears when her phone’s battery dies and she’ll have to constantly find a way to get an updated phone. the app eventually sent her into a mental breakdown, making her more obsessed with her looks, which gave Mr. Han.. again, an advantage to trap her in the mirror too.

overall, i think the show was pretty good !! Kim So-Hyun and Lee Min-Hyuk have great chemistry and i ship them a lot ;-; though i kinda think this show was a slow burn and there were parts that were kinda boring for me.

it was also kinda creepy and sad for me since these students clearly have problems but their homeroom teacher that should be mediating this situation and guiding them to the right path is the person who’s actually leading them to his trap, which was so frustrating to watch since Ye-Rim (Kim So-Hyun) and Sang-Woo (Lee Min-Hyuk) were so close to finding out what was actually happening. sadly, Mr. Han is waaaay too ahead of them. kinda surprised of the plot twist too where the camera Sang-Woo was using was supposed to tell about people’s lies, kinda reminds me of that TikTok POV i saw the other day.

[punkscowardschampions]

China & America

China: What the actual fuck

China: Mullans is an actual paedo

China: Why else would he cast her in that role, it’s so fucked to make us all participate in his creepy fantasy for no good reason

China: She makes no sense as Elizabeth, like not at all

America: If he was he’d have cast me as the lead instead of killing me off first

America: say the word & I’d actually participate in his Lolita kink 🍭👓❤️

America: meanwhile he’d get accused of favouritism if he gave you the role you wanted every year & if you weren’t grateful enough last time, why would he?

China: Shut up

China: Neither of you should get the role, you’re just kids

China: I’ve been here for 4 years now, he knows I can act, she’s not been in anything before

China: Her and Jake are going to look so dumb together

America: I should’ve got more of a role than lounging around looking fuckable and then killable for a scene but I’m not bitching about it

America: You don’t get offed until right at the end, Lucie has 0 scenes with Jake & an ugly outfit, you’ve got fuck all to complain about, you hated her more than Libi last I checked

America: He’ll look stupid anyway, he’s an imbecile

America: find another excuse to 😋🤤 over him

China: A maid’s outfit isn’t ugly, she’ll probably hit up adam & eve for it

China: Or take her ma’s

China: A big word for you, isn’t it?

China: He can’t help that Mullans cast a literal child as his lover, lucky he hasn’t dropped out on principle honestly

America: I was trying to stop you spiralling about Lucie as well as Libi but I don’t know why I bothered 🙄

America: Jake can’t help that he doesn’t have principles

China: I’m not spiralling

China: And you don’t even know him

America: I can’t help him having too many faces & personalities to keep up with

America: I’ve got a life of my own

China: Your pettiness surrounding him is so beside the point

China: Your little friend thinks she’s God’s gift I s2g

China: This is going to be such bullshit now

America: to get back to your pettiness about Libi

America: she gave the best audition, what was up with yours, fucking up half your lines like that?

China: I had to go basically last

China: aka already had to watch her using the deaf kid for bonus points

America: How else was he supposed to audition? Mr Mullan doesn’t know any sign language, deaf kids don’t tend to take music

China: Yeah, perhaps that’s a sign he shouldn’t

China: She totally used him for her own gain, what’s he going to do, seriously?

America: they’re friends & she helped him, I know you’ve lost yours but try & think back to when you had some

China: you’re beyond gullible if you believe any of her act

China: and I’m not talking about her audition

America: Yeah, she’ll have been biding her time since she was 4 for an opportunity exactly like this 👌

China: Well duh, I’m not saying it’s all about the play

China: it’s all of it, like look at me, I’m SO great 🙄 please

America: But staying on the subject of the play, nobody else can talk to him, he was using her as a translator

America: that’s this shit school’s fault not hers & if everything she touched turned to gold Mullan would’ve cast Bobby as the lead

America: she didn’t get her own way either

China: Even she can’t convince that an actor who can’t talk is a good idea

China: and yeah, bet she’s really gutted she gets to be all doe-eyed at Jake, ha

China: Only the deaf kid 💔 over that

America: Only you & Lucie get like that over Jake

America: & she’s running out of lads, what’s your excuse when you could have any others you want?

China: mhmm

China: literally not true, loads of girls think he’s fit, because he is

China: I don’t expect you to get it

China: not everyone wants to go out with literally the first loser who will

America: loads of people are a ride before they open their mouth but I understand how talk of a shite personality would be awkward for you

America: & yeah you’re probably 💖fated💖 cos of it, I’ll stop fighting that

China: If he didn’t have something about him he wouldn’t be lead rn

China: you can think it’s fake if you like but you don’t know him, like I said

America: Wow, he’s a convincing psychopath that’s what I’d be looking for in a boyfriend

America: 😐

America: you don’t know Libi or Sean but you’re being a cow about them

China: How’d you get that from what I said

China: you’re determined to make him the bad guy

China: not every guy is Gary

China: I know them plenty, like you said, she’s been about forever and he’s hardly an enigma

America: I know Jake’s not [whoever the indie-rock heartthrob is of this era]

China: You’re so fucking childish

China: Don’t ruin this play for the rest of us who don’t wanna look like total twats

America: You’re as delusional as mam

America: ✨💩 is still 💩

America: don’t ruin this play with your sour 🍇

China: I’m not the one out here taking over as if it’s my play

China: One lead role has really gone straight to her head, it’s out of order to exclude people but involve every freak in the school she wants to

America: You want all those ‘freaks’ to be excluded, it’s out of order to even call them that

China: I let Mr Mullans decide, didn’t I?

China: As he’s the actual director, not Libi Foley

America: & if Mr Mullan wants to say anything, he isn’t non-verbal

China: See if he don’t, like

America: it’s meant to be fun, Chi

America: remember when we used to have loads of it

China: And I’m trying

China: and I have, in every other play

China: I’m not the problem

America: I haven’t been in any.of.the.others. & you’re trying to fucking mess this up cos you’ve got a problem with all the 🏰attention👑 not being on you

China: It’s my thing that’s why

China: For fuck’s sake I can’t have anything anymore

America: & you dared to call me childish

America: Jake’s not a toy, I’d have taken his batteries out if he was

China: You keep bringing him up, I haven’t once

China: You don’t get what this is about at all, so yeah, you’re a fucking child

America: cos I’m not gonna badmouth Libi the way you want me to

America: it’s not her fault you went last & lost your nerve

China: So much for loyalty

America: 🖕 You don’t look out for me at any time

China: That’s bullshit

China: I cover for you constantly

America: You spare yourself the aggro with Gaz, it’s about his tantrums not me

China: You’re gonna lecture me about aggro? Pfft, right, that’s a good one Ricky

America: the subject of today’s lecture is you only giving a fuck about yourself

China: Really?

China: Right, then sod trying to play nice with you and your messed up charity cases

China: Have it your way

America: 👌 you have lost your acting knack

America: or you really don’t know what nice looks like

China: I know Libi Foley is the fakest bitch I’ve ever come across

China: Rather you than me be her little puppet

America: How do you know?

China: I’ve got no friends now, remember?

China: I’d know

America: a non-answer doesn’t help me, if that’s what you’re trying to do

China: Ask why your friend is bitching about me when she knows about our home life rn

China: Not so nice, is it

China: that special first year was telling me how mean they think I am when I asked her why she was in rehearsals

America: You literally are mean to her & she thinks literally

America: that doesn’t have anything to do with Libi

China: She’ll get a slap if she’s literally that rude to the wrong person

China: They’re related, like 2 times over in their incest family

America: You’re still not telling me how or why she’s fake

China: Because she acts like she’s so sweet and she’s bitching about me with a literal imbecile

China: duh

America: You’ll take Astrid’s word for it but not mine

America: what.the.fuck

China: She’s literal, right?

China: Clearly not lying

America: Libi’s not gonna disagree with Astrid to stand up for you, you have been mean to them all loads of times

America: but she’s not actively bitching about you to anyone

China: you wanna believe that so you don’t have to wonder what she could be saying about you

America: I lie better, what the rest of the school is saying is 🥱

China: Don’t get me started on how embarrassing that is

America: 😶

America: you embarrass wayyyyy easily, I don’t know how you’ve survived this family up to Gaz’s gatecrash

China: Nah, I just don’t embarrass myself as naturally as you and Sza do, that’s the truth of it

China: But that’s the whole point, we’re both doing this to have somewhere to be for a few hours a week, don’t hog it and make it so I can’t, yeah?

America: I’m not embarrassed, comparable to her other than our stupid names, or hogging anything including your limelight

China: Tell that to your friends with their private rehearsals, okay

China: how is that good for cast bonding?

America: if you care so much about cast morale, lay off Bobby, Libi & Lucie

China: I haven’t done anything but whatever

America: 😐

China: 🙄

America: Pre-Gary you’d have been the one organising private rehearsals & that’s why you’re mad

America: he’s the freak, nobody else

China: I’ve never said he isn’t my main problem rn

China: Other people can still be arseholes and not help

America: I know

China: Whatever

China: I’m going to find somewhere to be if not I’ll see you at nans

America: I’ll see you at nan’s if Sean’s mam kicks me out of his again

America: 🐁🐈

China: 🙄👌

America: Bless her 💖

America: touching how invested she is in our sexual health & wellbeing

China: yeah it’s well good she thinks you’re that much of a skank

America: Unlike you & Jake we’re officially going out so I don’t have to look out for 💄 mirror messages calling me a whore or sharpie stall graffiti depicting the 🍆😗

China: Unlike me and Jake, you’re 12 so, doubt that

America: I’m nearly 13 & he’s like a month younger than you

China: Yeah, he’s a predator, cool

China: Invite his ma to the party ours won’t throw you

China: Sean and Gaz will get along great

America: 🖕

America: Jake ranks girls by how fuckable they are, including me & you only don’t care how predatory that is cos you’re high up on the list

China: I’m not 12 though am I

China: Any fourth year that needs to hang out with 1st and 2nd years is obviously a freak

China: Look at your boyfriend and deaf kid before you start pointing fingers

America: Could’ve fooled me with how 😍💖 you are

China: At least no one is going to accuse me of fucking someone for a bed

China: How stupid are you, do you want everyone to know our business or what

America: At least a bed is useful, you only wanna fuck Jake for school status

America: nobody cares if he picks you or Lucie except the two of you

China: Romantic

America: You already know I like him

America: the 😍💖💣🍆💫 of it

China: Well I like Jake

America: I know

China: So back off

America: You bitch at me whenever I lie

China: I don’t need to hear your opinion on him because you literally don’t know him

America: You don’t wanna hear my opinion cos it doesn’t match the one you need everyone to have about him for your 🏰validation👑

China: I don’t wanna hear it because it’s irrelevant

China: You clearly don’t get me, never mind him

China: Play grown-up on your own time because it’s just painful to watch

America: I don’t get either of you, but that’s not about how much cooler & older you are than me or how you only get each other

America: finish crafting yourself into his manic pixie dream girl on your own time cos the ✨transformation✨ is 🥱 & 🎃

China: Thanks for the compliment

America: Use your awesomeness to get rid of Gary & I won’t have to sleep anywhere else or tell the real adults how fucked home is

China: I’m not fucking trying?

China: Jesus, if it was easy it’d be over and everything would be back to before

China: There is nothing I’d rather

China: And nothing I’m putting more of my effort into, so yeah, thanks, I blew my fucking audition

America: Mam’ll chase him away before you & she’s not trying to!

America: fucking do something

America: she’s not gonna show up to opening night, realise you’re not the star now that he’s the centre of her universe & pack his bags for him

China: Excuse me

China: What the fuck are you doing and how much is it not working

China: You aren’t even there half the time, don’t lecture me

America: It doesn’t work coming from me, she didn’t give a fuck if I was happy or not before

America: you’re her favourite

China: Lucky me

America: You wanna go back to how it used to be, you can’t have that many negative experiences of having her wrapped around your little finger

China: Memories explains it all

China: It doesn’t make her any more dependable

America: I’m depending on you

China: I know

America: I don’t want to rush things with Sean & make it all intense cos Gaz is making us homeless

America: it’s supposed to be fun

China: Spare me the teen angst, please

China: I do not give a fuck about him

America: I’m trying to spare myself it first

China: Just cool it a little

America: & stay at nans every night? 🥱

China: 🙄

America: Count the candles on my 🎂 guarantee you there’ll be, like, 9, that’s how old she thinks I am

China: You want me to say she’s dead off? 🤷‍♀️

America: 🖕

China: Anyway

China: Your boyf is so 😬

China: thank GOD he’s not in the play

America: He’s in charge of the lights, you should be nicer to him

China: 😂 yeah i’m not worried

China: I have like one decent sized scene anyway

America: Until you seduce Mr Mullan anywayyy

China: Even if he wasn’t gay

China: disgusting

America: 😂

China: That’s so twisted

China: Lucie would

China: She fancied that student teacher last year, such a cliche

America: He really did look about 9

America: what.a.waste.

China: He did not, he was rough as

China: Deffo mature student

America: which of your friends did you have staring at him close up enough to judge his pores?

China: Just said didn’t I

America: You & Lucie never were

China: Yeah we were

China: that’s why I hate her so much now

China: don’t you remember

America: 🙄

America: spare me your teen angst, if she was any kind of friend she’d have some loyalty to you & the shit lads you like

China: She fucked up way before boys

China: I guess you were a baby, idk

China: I got to be Mary and she pushed me off stage

China: Jealous cow, always has been

America: I remember her 😡😭 when they wouldn’t let her keep the doll

America: she went redder than daddy Gaz

America: but now I wanna swap that early memory for one of you hitting the ground 🌠💥

China: Fuck you 😂

China: I ended up getting in trouble then ‘cos I got up and smacked her

China: She’s always less of a pushover when a bloke’s about

China: Ironically

America: maybe I’ll buy her friendship with one of my old dolls, invite her for a sleepover, see if Mam learns anything

America: & it’ll make the play more fun for you again if she decides to get up to her old tricks & shove me off stage

China: It’d add some realism to this farce

America: You’ll get the lead in the end of the year play when Gary’s gone

China: Yeah I will

America: Just be a better loser than Lucie until then

China: Like I’m going to make that much of a scene

America: you’ve got no reason to be a jealous cow of Libi, like I said when you started bitching, so yeah, it’d be dumb

China: Tell her that

China: not me walking around like I’m God’s gift

America: She’s not the new you, if she was that committed to full-time acting she’d be moving to LA

China: She wishes

America: to be behind the camera

China: Sure

America: We’re back where we started

China: 👋 is fine

America: see you at nans

China: yeah

[cami-chats]

The Farm

Written for @marvelpolyshipbingo

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Triggers: Age of Ultron-esque issues with mental health

Pairings: Tony Stark/Clint Barton/Laura Barton

Summary: When the team needs somewhere to regroup, Clint brings them to the farm, where his and Tony's partner Laura lives. 

Square Filled: B4-Wild West

Read below or on AO3

"You won't even be able to tell," Clint said as Laura worriedly trailed her fingers over where the wound had been. 

"I can tell," she said. He wasn't sure if that was true, or if she was just trying to make him feel better about how well she knew him. If he got completely replaced to be something like an android, she'd notice. As much as he would like to be in a position to tease her for it, it was actually pretty nice. After the whole alien invasion thing, he wasn't ruling anything out. "Where's Tony?" 

"Freaking out. Not sure where." 

"Bad mission?" 

"Horrible. Some sort of... mind game. Memories maybe. Nobody offered to tell me, and I didn't ask. All I can tell is that they're in a bad way." 

Laura hummed, smoothing her hands over her belly. "Tractor's broken. He's always better when he has something to fix." 

"I thought you thought Tony got too distracted with work." 

"Work is one thing. Fixing is another. Fixing things makes him feel useful. Building new things makes him think he has to be brilliant. Stresses him out. It does everyone good to feel useful sometimes. Including you," she added pointedly. 

Clint was helpless to do anything but smile. "What do you need?" 

"Some thinking about where everyone's going to sleep? You and Tony are easy-" 

"Wow, harsh." 

"-but even if the kids bunk with each other, we're several rooms short. You know the team better than me. Figure out who won't kill each other over sharing a bed, and take care of it. Please," she added, giving him a quick kiss and shuffling off to find Tony. They had a lot of land out here, but there were only so many places he could be that were close to the house. It’s not like Tony was going to hide in the middle of a field. 

When she found him, he was standing near Captain America chopping wood. It looked like they were arguing, which was bad. Tony was out here to distract himself from getting lost in his head though, which was good. Things had gotten better when he started taking an active role in his mental health. 

"Tony?" she called, not bothered in the slightest by interrupting them. "The tractor's broken again. Would you mind taking a look?" 

"Sure." He sort of tossed the ax down instead of setting it. He wasn't doing as good as he wanted everyone to think, but Laura saw right through it. She wasn't a spy or agent of Shield or anything like that, but she knew people. More than she knew people, she knew her partners. 

"Thanks," she said when he got next to her, and they walked to the barn together. "I don't know what happened to it. It was working fine last week, but now I can't get it to start." 

"You took care of it while I was gone, right?" 

"Followed your instructions to the letter." Or as close to the letter as she could get from her notes from his rambled instructions. He got pulled into tangents so often that she'd mostly figured out how to filter it out, but there was always room for error. "I think last time you said something about the battery." 

"I think I also said something about it being good for a while longer." 

"It's no harm if you were wrong," she reminded him. "Tractor maintenance wasn't taught in your MIT engineering classes. I don't think, anyways." 

Tony was quiet for a moment, then said, "How's the morning sickness?" 

"Better. Not near as bad as it was the last time. Not to sound like a nagging wife, but you'd know that if you called." 

"I've been busy." 

"I know you have." Laura took a deep breath. "I also know that you could've made the time for a quick call or some texts more often than you've been doing. I know you're busy. I'm not trying to say that you're not. It kind of feels like you're backing out of this though, and if that's what you're thinking, I would prefer if we talked about it now rather than wait. Even if that's not what you're thinking, I feel like we should talk about it now." 

"it's not that I'm having second thoughts; it's that I'm never around. I never will be around. It was stupid for me to try and do the family thing when I'm not capable of it." 

"You're plenty capable of it. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you could do it." 

"We all make mistakes. Even you." 

Laura pushed the door to the barn open and they both stepped inside. It felt different now, out of the sun. Probably not different enough to soothe whatever had been worrying him for the past few months combined with whatever had happened to the team earlier. "What did you see?" 

"What?" 

"Clint said there was some sort of... vision. Fucked everyone up. What did you see?" 

Tony didn't answer for a moment, and she worried that he wasn't going to answer at all. If he'd been considering leaving-- or rather, never coming back-- then there wasn't a reason for him to talk to her. "Everyone dead. The Chitauri army came back, and we couldn't stop them. The team, you and your kids, the entire damn planet. Everyone was dead." 

"Our kids," she corrected. "They're our kids, Tony." She knew that it wasn't the most important detail of what he'd said, but it was the only thing she knew for sure about. It was the only part she could comfort him about with one hundred percent surety. As much as she wished she could tell him that the rest of it was a pile of shit, she didn't know it. She wasn't a superhero or a Shield agent. She was a mother and a farmer, and she loved him. "They're our kids, and I know that you love them as much as they love you. You've been gone for a long time, but they haven't forgotten you, and I know that you haven't forgotten them. Putting distance between us doesn't change that. 

"And it wasn't a prophecy," she added. "You were shown what you fear most. It's okay to be upset about that, but you don't need to take it as fact. That's not the future." 

"I know. Jesus, Laura, I might be crazy, but I'm not stupid. It was a vision to mess with my head, and I know that that's all it was." He was being defensive, but from the way Clint had told it, it had been vivid. They both knew that the vision was fake, but if it had looked as real as the world around them, that would be a hard thing to shake. 

She didn't miss how he didn't reply to the rest of what she'd said. Laura knew that unconditional love was hard for Tony to get used to, and he didn't know how to respond to it. "Okay," she said, deciding that she wasn't going to push it further. Trying to force Tony to say that he knew they loved him wasn't going to help the situation any. She wrapped an arm around his waist. "I get so worried about all of you out there. If something happens, I'd learn about it on the news, you know? I know that I should let you get working, but I missed you. Plus I want to give Clint a chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements before I head back in. Mm. He's kicking." Laura held out her hand for his, and he complied. How easily he put his hand in hers was a bigger sign that he'd been listening to her than anything he could've said. She didn't hide her smile; let him think of it however he wanted. It took a little pushing and searching to find the spot where he could feel it, but they found it. "Being pregnant isn't all bad, but this is the last time I'm doing this." 

"Three sounds like a good number of kids." 

"Clint said he wants five," Laura said with a smirk. 

"Clint can try to convince you to have more kids when he retires. Didn't he say he was retiring the month before you give birth?" 

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I want to have more kids. I think you're right; three is a good number. If you could tell Clint you agree, that would be helpful." 

"I'll make a note of it." 

"Make a note as in you're planning on staying?" 

Tony sighed. "I dunno. I want to. Does that count for anything?" 

"Counts for a lot," Laura said, kissing his cheek. "Come in the house when you're done or need anything, okay? We can all talk tonight." 

"I don't know what good talking will do." 

"It'll do more good than not talking would." 

Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What was I thinking getting involved with someone so much smarter than me?" 

"I'm emotion-smart; you're brain-smart. That makes Clint..."

"Physical-smart," Tony said, and they both nodded. "Don't worry, I think he already knows." 

"Talking about me?" Clint asked, poking his head in. 

"Can I take this to mean that you're done with the sleeping arrangements?" Laura asked. 

"Psh, what? Me? I mean, you could take it to mean that, but I'm not sure what good it would do. On an unrelated note, I have to leave again. Have fun with whatever you're doing," Clint said, then fled. 

[iseeskiesofblueandcloudsofwhite]

Car connection : #sciencefiction #romancewriting #shortstory

  “I’m going to kill you!” Amy’s patient screamed as he pulled at his restraints and clenched his hands. 

  Amy leaned back in her chair trying to get as far away as she could from the patient. The medications would not be touching him for at least another 20 minutes, and Amy was hoping by then that her shift at Bay Yard hospital would be well over. She looked at her watch, it was 11:15pm. Her feet hurt but she had promised Tyler that they would still go out to Beachland Tavern tonight. She had met him when she went to nursing school. She always preferred to stay in while he was more outgoing but that made him attractive to her. Down the hall Amy saw the third shift coming in. Thank God Time to enjoy my weekend Amy thought as her relief came and she was able to give a nursing report and head out of the building.  

  She walked the well lit hospital parking lot to her new car. It was a 2031 full electric self driving all wheel drive Subaru. While there are many who are weary of the new self-driving technology, Amy had decided to take the risk and embrace the new technology. Tyler helped her pick it out, but he also insisted that she get an app for it so that the car knows where you want to go so that you don’t have to waste time entering your destination.  Amy wasn’t sure about it at first because she was almost certain that it would never willingly drive to work or to get groceries but for the last six months it worked just fine. She sat in the car, sensing her presence, the car revved up, backed out and drove to Beachland Tavern while Amy did her makeup. 

  The Subaru parked itself in front of the Beachland Tavern’s glass doors. It was an upscale bar which surprised Amy since Talyor preferred more hole in the wall establishments complete with a pool table and a jukebox. Amy walked in and took a seat at the bar. 

  “Can I help you?” The bartender asked. He was an attractive man around  Amy’s age with big brown eyes and light brown hair. 

  “Yeah I will have a long island.” Amy sighed. 

  “I like your ride over there. I heard a lot of people are still scared of self driving cars. They don’t trust them. Do you like it?” He asked as he went to mix her drink.

  “Do these people include you?” Amy said, giving him a sideways glance. 

  “Maybe, my car is still a manual, like hands on the wheel driving type manual. But I’m a car guy so I might be biased. I like the feel of turning a car and how the car handles it. My name is Kyle by the way.” Kyle  handed Amy her drink. Amy tasted it and winced from the taste of alcohol. She wanted to be cool in front of him but she was never a fan of the taste of alcohol.

  “I’m Amy. That's interesting. I thought that with your profession you would love them. People now have the option of getting wasted and getting behind the wheel and they are totally safe.” Amy said. 

  Kyle smiled and looked down embarrassed. 

  “I guess there is a silver lining to everything. Just as long as they don’t invent an electronic bartender that knows what type of drinks to serve you I think that I am good.”   

  From across the bar a customer waved Kyle over. 

  “Got to go. Let me know if you need anything.” Kyle said as he walked to the other customer. 

  Amy looked down at her phone pretending to be busy. Tyler was 10 minutes late, which wasn’t unusual for him. Amy squirreled her drink, the long day and the alcohol was really hitting her. Suddenly she saw his car pull up in the parking lot. He walked into the bar and took a seat next to Amy. 

  “Hey what’s up?” Tyler asked. 

  “It has just been a long day.” Amy said. Something seemed off tonight but she really couldn’t tell what it was. 

  “I was thinking Amy, you're great but I think we need some space. Maybe we take some time off and then reevaluate in a month if this could really work.” 

  “Space? What does that mean?’ Amy hissed. The chatter in the Beach house was not loud enough for her to yell. 

  “It's just that we knew each other since college and that was 7 years ago. I just want to explore a little bit before we settle down. I will be over your place later to get my things” Tyler said casually. 

  “It has been seven years of my life that I just wasted with you.” Amy felt herself raise her voice. She could feel the whole tavern looking at them now. She looked down at her drink wanting to both drink it and throw it in his face. 

  “I’m sorry Ames. You know that I never met to hurt you, this is just how I feel.” Tyler whispered. He patted her on the back as she flinched. Then as casually as he walked in the bar he strolled out. The bar had quieted down and she knew that everyone had eavesdropped onto their conversation. She put a 2o down for the drink and got into her car with the last remaining piece of dignity she had. Turning the key she had fears that the car would follow Tyler and smash into him, but instead the car slowly drove her home. Amy felt a little concerned. It was like the car itself not only knew what she wanted to do but what was best for her.  But at least for now Amy could not argue with that decision. 

  Amy’s apartment felt cold and dark. She knew that Tyler would survive without his things until tomorrow like he normally did when he was not sleeping over, but she felt that maybe by starting to pack up she would be able to move on from this terrible ache in her stomach. It was not only Tyler’s things that Amy had to take care of but also things that fell into a grey area that were for them, like vacation scrapbooks. Although she hated Tyler right now, the items still contained fond memories whether Tyler was a part of them or not. Unwilling to deal with the mess at this hour Amy  After a few hours Amy felt the weight of the day start to bear down on her shoulders and she collapsed in her bed. 

  Amy finished packing Tylers stuff early in the afternoon and headed over to his house to drop it off. After turning on the car Amy looked back at the boxes containing her scrapbooks. Screw Tyler, If he cherished memories of being together he wouldn’t have dumped her. While the car drove Amy rummaged through his belongings once more picking out the things that still meant something to her. When the car stopped Amy looked out the window. The car had parked itself to the Tavern. 

  No there has to be something wrong Amy had no intention of turning herself into an emotional drinker. She turned the key on the subaru trying to get the suberu to go to Tyler’s house. The car lurched forward and then stalled. 

  “Come on,” Amy wailed. Of course the expensive car that Tyler convinced her to buy was stalling a few weeks after she bought it. Amy looked around the car. In the middle of all her stress packing she seemed to misplace her cellphone. Amy opened her side door and walked out of the car. Walking into the Tavern she noticed that Kyle was working. He greeted her with a smile. 

  “Hey Amy, the girl with the sweet car. Can I get you something?’ 

  “Actually my car broke down and I need a phone to call Tyler.” Amy tried hard to smother a smile. 

  “I could take a look for you, it is mostly computers so I don’t know much but I could see what I could do.” Kyle stated. He handed a drink to a fellow waiter and walked with Amy out to her car popping the hood. A solid metal box with flashing lights appeared under the hood. 

  “I don’t really understand this, but I something that resembles a battery, I can try to jump it,” Kyle offered. He got inside his 2020 Hyundai and parked alongside her. 

  “Can I have your keys? I just want to see if I could turn the wheels a little bit so that I could get the cable connection.” Amy nodded in agreement. Right as Kyle grabbed the keys her Subaru came to life.  Surprised Amy almost fell backwards. 

  “Well it looks like you don’t need my help from here on out.” 

  “Thanks for all your help.” Amy said getting back into her car. 

  “Hey for what it’s worth, I saw what was in your back seat. If I were you I would just dump all of his stuff right here. I mean the way that he treated you it was a mess. It’s the least that he deserves.” Kyle said. 

  “Thanks for the advice,” Amy said as she got into her car and her car drove away to hopefully what would be Talyer’s house. She watched Kyle smile at her as she left the parking lot. After that all Amy could think about was Kyle and his smile. She decided to take Kyle’s advice and dumped Tyler’s stuff in his front yard, and then went home. 

  The next day Amy found herself wanting to see Kyle again, her car drove itself to the front of Beachland Tavern. Amy walked in hoping to see Kyle tending bar, but he was not behind the counter nor was he anywhere else in the tavern. Amy walked up to the young woman behind the counter, and asked, “Excuse me, do you know if Kyle is working today?” “Sorry,” she said, “Kyle usually only works in the evening. But I don’t think that he is scheduled until tomorrow evening.”  Disappointed, Amy thanked the barmaid. She ordered a turkey club, and while eating her lunch decided that she would use the rest of her afternoon to run some errands.

  Amy got into her car and expected the Subaru to bring her to Target, where she needed to buy some items. However, the car ended up taking her away from the city and out into the countryside. “What is going on with this car?” Amy said out loud to herself.  The self-driving technology came with a feature that it would automatically take the fastest estimated route to the final destination, thereby circumventing any accidents or delays.  It’s probably avoiding all that construction that is always going on, she thought. She decided to let the car do the driving and doodled on her phone until it got to the shopping center.

  Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. And the car continued driving further and further from civilization. Ok, something must be wrong with the car’s technology Amy thought. It must be taking me to the store in another state. I knew something was up when it did not work yesterday. She tries to shift the car into manual override so she can drive back to the city. She pushes down on the knob to switch override but it is jammed. “Arggg!” she cries out in frustration. She pulls out her cell phone but she has no bars. Today is not my day, she thinks. 

  The car pulls off the windy country road and on to an even windier and narrower dirt road. “OK, something is definitely wrong!” she says out loud. The car continues down the dirt road, astutely avoiding the numerous obstacles in the way. Amy checks her phone; still no bars. 

  The car reaches the end of the dirt road, and Amy can see that just after the dirt road ends there is a magnificent vista and, presumably, a significant drop off. “The car is going to go over the cliff!” Amy exclaims. Just as she is about to open the drivers side door and roll out onto the ground to safety the car comes to a stop. Amy sees that there is another vehicle parked near the overlook and a man is sitting on the hood.  I hope that this guy is not a murderer, Amy thinks. However, Amy then notices that the man sitting on the hood is Kyle from the tavern. Amy almost passes out from the relief. 

  Once her car is parked, Amy gets out and runs toward Kyle. She notices that Kyle has a concerned look on his face, but once he recognizes her the look turns to relief. Even though she just met him last night, Amy hugs Kyle  “Oh my God, I’m so relieved it is you! I had no idea what my car was doing!” 

  “Me neither,” Kyle proclaims. “After taking a look at your car last night, the car guy in me was intrigued by this new technology. I just had to try it for myself. I called my friend and asked him if I could try out his self-driving car, and that I was interested in buying one for myself. I figured I’d let the car decide where to go, but it just took off, out of the city and into the country, and down this road. It pulled up to this overlook, and then a couple of minutes later your car showed up.”

  “Weird,” Amy says. “Although, to be honest, I had initially gone to the Tavern to see if you were working this afternoon. When I learned that you were off today, I went to my car and told myself that I would run errands today. Although, in my mind I was thinking about you.”

  “I think the same is true for me, too,” Kyle says. “I was thinking about you all this morning. If I’m being honest, I’ve been thinking about you since you walked into the Tavern last night.”

  “Well then I guess the fancy new technology in these things is better than we thought,” Amy says.

  “I guess so,” says Kyle. He looks like he wants to say something, but keeps twirling with his keys.

  “Hey,” says Amy, “how this is a very beautiful view, but would you like to see if there is a place to eat around here? All this adventure has left me famished.”

  “That sounds great!” says Kyle. “Know of any good places out here?”

  Amy looks at him and says, “Let's see where the cars take us!”

The end. 

[lxveille]

if a tree fell in the woods, like i fell for you

s coups x reader

word count: ~ 2930 warnings: none a/n: roommates!au; part of the morning after shuffle

It must be fret that wakes you up. A nagging rumble through dreams saying you’ll be late that makes you snap your eyes open and reach out to your left to check the time on your phone.

Except your phone isn’t on your bedside table.

Nope. That’s not quite right. Rather: except your bedside table isn’t on your left. 

Your hand instead meets a warm shoulder, and the fact that you aren’t in your own bed jumps to the front of your mind. And really, it would be cause for panic if it wasn’t accompanied by the memory of how you ended up in your roommate’s bed instead of your own. Although as you blink a little further out of sleep and stare at Seungcheol’s back a little longer, you find yourself second guessing if you should be quite so calm about it. Waking up beside your roommate in little more than one of his old university t-shirts is far from the norm for you.

What time is it? The nagging reminds you of your priorities. 

The drawn curtains in Seungcheol’s room still allow enough light to filter in for you to gather yesterday’s shirt and jeans from off his floor without having to fumble. With your clothing bundled in your arms, you make your way out of his room. You only spare a brief glance back at where he’s still sleeping soundly in bed. The sheet still pulled halfway down his chest from when you’d gotten out from under it yourself. In that moment, it crosses your mind to pull it back up as if to tuck him in. You step out into the living room of your apartment without doing so. 

This room feels colder than his. A couple of empty cups are still sitting out on the table. The ‘bon voyage’ banner a friend had hand-drawn still hanging askew on the wall. There’s no crowd of friends springing up to shout surprise when you step in this time. Yet the sudden urge to cry comes creeping back up on you, just as it had last night. 

You continue on to your own bedroom before the feeling can truly settle in. Your suitcase and carry on are still where you left them, zipped shut atop your bed. You would have had to move them if things had gone a bit differently last night. If things had gone the way you thought they would have. If you and Seungcheol hadn’t stayed up after everyone else had left to clean up. If he hadn’t kissed you when all the dishes were clean. If you hadn’t kissed him back. 

You shake your head and scan the room for your phone. It sits unassuming -- and unplugged -- atop your mattress. You gather your clothing into one arm to pick up your phone. Now getting to dread not only what time it might be, but what level of battery it’s at as well.

10:48. Shit. 

You don’t even check the percentage left before tossing the phone onto your pillow and dropping the clothing onto the floor. Several curses come out under your breath as you hurriedly pull the baggy shirt off over your head and frankly put yesterday’s outfit back on again. Inside your head, you try to do the math on how long it will take you to get to the nearest metro stop. How fast you’ll have to run in order to make it there in time to feel like you still have enough room for unexpected delays on your way to the airport. 

You check your phone once more before rushing to the bathroom. Your reflection is a mess; hair that could really use a wash and circles under your eyes from a lack of sleep. It’s the least of your concerns. You brush your teeth for only as long as it takes for your mouth to feel refreshed. After a quick splash of cold water on your face, you groan in frustration into your towel while drying off. 

Just as you’re stuffing your toothbrush into the toiletry bag meant for your carry-on, you hear Seungcheol calling your name. A weight sinks in your stomach. 

Of all the nights for you to hook up with him -- of course it would be right before you leave for an extended business trip. You catch your reflection once more. It’s been two years since you ever worried about what Seungcheol would think of how you looked in the morning. Now you feel once again like you had in those first few weeks after you first moved in with him. Uncertain, nervous, and cursing every movie where people wake up looking refreshed and flawless. 

“Please don’t want to talk,” you mutter an aimless prayer before heading out the bathroom door. 

Seungcheol is leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee machine to kick into gear. “Everything okay…?” he calls after when he sees you rush across the living room back to your bedroom. 

“Not really!” you answer at the time as you double-check the contents of your carry-on. Toiletries, passport, tickets, wallet. “I have to get out of here by like, 11:00 latest or there’s no way I’m making the right bus to the airport on time.” 

Charger, you realize just as you finish up the words, and scramble to grab it out of its usual socket in your room. You’ll need it by the time you make it to the airport. While you’re shoving it into your bag, Seungcheol appears in your bedroom doorway. 

“I could give you a lift to the airport, you know,” he offers. “It wouldn’t take as long as public transport.” 

It isn’t the first time he’s made that argument. Still, you give the same refusal you had before, “I don’t wanna impose. It’s fine. Thanks, though.” 

This time you say it, though, it’s breathlessly and fairly unconvinced. He frowns, deeper than he had the previous times you’d turned down his offer. “It’s already 10:55,” he points out. You resist the sudden urge to scream. “If you let me drive you, you’ll actually have time to have some coffee and a shower before you have to go.” And get a bit of a charge on your phone. 

Not to mention, the longer you spend standing there staring at him skeptically, the less time you have to run to the subway. 

“We should check the traffic before deciding when to leave,” you decide. A smile of relief comes across Seungcheol’s face. Aren’t you the one who ought to be relieved? 

But that feeling doesn’t come for you until he asks if he should make enough coffee for two. 

Seungcheol follows your lead when it comes to choosing what time to go. The stray thought of a bumper-to-bumper standstill convinces you that it’d be best to head out no later than 12:30. 

But it’s an hour and a half that you’re grateful. 

And all the more grateful that some force in the universe seems to have heard your prayer. He seems just the same as any other morning you’ve spent with him. The only fracture in the illusion comes when he hands you a mug of coffee; his fingers lingering on the warm surface beneath yours a few seconds too long. You don’t say a word about it. 

The time passes quickly. Still, the chance to wash up properly and change into a fresh outfit for the flight has you feeling anew. 

New enough even to question when Seungcheol insists on carrying your suitcase down to the car for you. 

He’s always been courteous to you. It was part of the reason why you’d gotten comfortable with him so quickly after moving in. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’d want to help you with your luggage. And yet. 

Your mind rewinds back to his hands on your skin as he lifts the bag to head down the stairs. It carries on from there to recall the feel of his kisses, and the warmth of his breath beside your ear and upon your cheeks as he’d murmured all kinds of things. Things you cannot possible allow yourself to dwell upon right now. Your thoughts already have you lagging on the steps behind him as it is. 

“I can take it from here,” you suggest when the two of you step out your building’s front door. The temperature difference between the outside air and your apartment is immediately evident. Warmth spreads over your skin, sunlight tickling up your arms. Seungcheol squints in the light and refuses you. 

“I’ve got it. It’s not far anyway.” 

You wonder if you could be mistaken for a couple as he leads you down the sidewalk to his car. The thought buzzes around your head. And unlike summer mosquitoes, you can’t just flick your hand a few times to get it to go away. 

It’s little help that Seungcheol opens the passenger-side door for you. 

“I really appreciate this, you know,” you find yourself saying as he’s turning on the engine. “You probably wanted to sleep in. It’s my own fault for forgetting to turn on my alarm for this morning. Honestly, I should have set it ages ago when I figured out how I was getting to the airport anyway.”The words seem to just keep pouring out of you. Filling up the air with words that pretend as if last night had already sunk to the back of your memories. “How I was meaning to get to the airport, I guess I mean.”

Seungcheol laughs. You try to focus on the ticking sound of his turn signal instead of it’s warm rumble. “I already told you, it’s fine.” The car moves through the intersection moments after the light turns green. There’s no signal sound to distract you when he adds, “Besides, it’s also kinda my fault you overslept.”

You tell yourself to look out the window, but your eyes stay fixed on his profile all the same. He says it nonchalantly. Like it had been a late night chat or an insistence on one more episode on Netflix to blame. “I’m the one going away. I should be more responsible,” you point out. His eyebrows wrinkle and lips tug downwards, but his gaze stays steady on the road. You wonder if it's the going away or the implication that sleeping with him had been irresponsible that’s caused that shift in his expression. 

Both, of course, is a reasonable answer. One that you don’t quite want to linger on. There’s not enough time between here and the airport for all the questions it’d bring up. 

“I wish you weren’t leaving today,” Seungcheol announces. You look down to your lap, fingers fidget with the seatbelt in the silence that follows. His sigh makes you glance his way only to refocus your attention on the car in the lane next to his. There’s a lot of things you’re afraid he might say. Or say again, if all your recollections of his voice from last night are accurate. “You promise you’re coming back at the end of the trip, right?” 

That wasn’t something you’d anticipated. The tension that had avoiding looking his way snaps in that instant, and you can’t help but laugh at the question. “Of course I’m coming back.” 

“Promise?” he implores before flicking the turn signal and glancing back to change lanes. 

“You’re really that worried about losing my half of the rent, huh?” You try to peddle back to just being Seungcheol’s roommate. “I thought you’d be excited to have the place to yourself for a couple months.” 

“You never know. You could fall in love with the place and not want to come back at all. And then…” He doesn’t finish the thought. 

“Well, then I’d have to come back to pack up the rest of my stuff at our place first,” you fill in for him. “But come on. That’s not gonna happen.” 

“So you do promise?” The car carries on straight down the highway, and he takes the opportunity to let his gaze flit over to you for a split second. 

Your laughter does little to lift his serious demeanor. At least not until you speak through it to say, “Yeah. I promise. This isn’t the last you’ll see of me.” 

The rest of the drive almost passes for normal. Like it could be a drive anywhere, on any other day of your friendship with him. When the signs for the airport exit start popping up, a heaviness slips back into the air inside Seungcheol’s car. 

“It’s not the rent money I’m gonna miss. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah,” you respond, keeping your tone as light as you can. Refusing to let yourself come to the conclusion he wants you to. “Because I’m still paying for my half even though I’m gonna be away. You’re pretty lucky, you know?” 

There’s a chuckle from him. “I know,” he agrees, eyes scanning the signage ahead. “But that’s not what I meant.” 

You shift in the passenger seat and look up through the windshield to spot a plan descending towards the nearby runway. “Seungcheol…” You start without knowing what you want to say.  ‘Don’t’ occurs as an option. “It’s okay. Things don’t have to change--” You try to continue, but he says something of his own at the same moment. So you cut yourself short and lick at your lips uncertainly before prompting, “What’d you say?”

He hesitates. “I’m sorry I never said anything before last night.” 

“Look…” You don’t know where you’re going with it. Seungcheol waits. The traffic, however, does not. And the drop off spot for your airline is coming up. “I get it. It’s weird that I’m gonna be away for so long. And, like, feelings can be confusing. It happens. It’s fine.” 

“I’m not confused,” he tells you at the same time as he pulls up to the curb. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you.” You suck in a sharp breath of air. A panicked thought says to throw open the door and turn inside the terminal without even stopping for your suitcase. Still, you stay glued to your seat, one shoulder pressing against the car door as you stare at him. “And I know it’s maybe not fair to say that to you right here. Now. But I just… need you to know.” It sounds like something he’s been drafting in his head for at least half the drive here. Though the look on his face seems to say it hasn’t come out sounding the way he planned. 

You blink several times over and let your sight dart from him to the side mirror just outside the window, and back again. “What do you mean? We’ve lived together for, like, two years and suddenly you’re in love with me because we had sex?” 

“Not suddenly,” he rushes to clarify. Somewhere around you, another car blares its horn. You watch a flush rise in his face in disbelief. “For, like… a year and a half.” 

“I have to get through security,” you blurt out in your utter loss as to what you can possibly say. It hasn’t fully processed yet. How could it possibly be true? For it to be true for that long and for you to have never noticed? 

“I know,” he agrees. Another horn sounds, and he breaks his gaze from you to look into the rearview. His eyes snap back to yours only a moment later. Choosing to ignore the pressure to move along. “And now you know.” 

You turn in the seat to look backwards from between the two front seats as a different horn goes off. “What am I supposed to do with that?” you ask. When you turn your head to face him again, you find your new forward-leaning position has you much closer to him than you anticipated. Seungcheol looks at you, lips parted in thought. If he notices the way your attention lingers there, he doesn’t let on. 

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t sound so sure. “I’ll be here when you come home.” 

Something inside of you falters. The buzzing in your head interrupted by another car’s nagging beeps. You pull yourself upright in the seat and click open the seatbelt. 

Seungcheol is out of the driver’s side just as your slamming shut your car door. He circles round to the trunk to take out your suitcase. You stand, short on thought and time, and watch him tug up the handle and wheel it over to where you’re waiting. 

You reach out to take it, and you let your palm come down over the back of his hand in the process. He stills, and looks you over with questions he knows he can’t ask right now. 

“I’ll call you when I land,” you decide suddenly. 

He isn’t entirely sure what to make of it. But it brings a faint smile to his face all the same. His hand slip out from underneath yours only to hold up his pinky. “Promise?” 

It feels normal. Not entirely the same -- but familiar all the same. You lift your free hand and gently twist your little finger together with his. “Promise,” you say quietly. 

He nods and lets you go. 

You only make it three steps towards the busy entrance before glancing back. 

He catches the moment, standing with the door to his car open and a whole background ensemble of horns around him. He grins and waves goodbye, and you think you might already know what you need to say when you call. 

[katcadecascade]

Only Crows Rush In

Fair Game Week: AU/Freeday

RWBY Rock/Musician AU

Ao3

The concert hall is jammed pack with a roaring audience as Ruby shreds the final cords to War and along with her, Weiss is hitting her highest notes without a crack.

Yang’s drumbeats are literally fire as the pyrotechnics are going off. Safely of course, they are not making that same mistake like last time.

Blake’s fingers are blurry as they glide up and down her bass as the song ends with a loud cheer from the crowd.

The band pant out their exhaustion, wide grins on their faces as noise pulsates through the arena. Blinding lights shine from people’s phones and the stage lights as the instruments are set down and the band’s leader takes the front stage.

“Atlas you’ve been an amazing crowd but unfortunately that is the last song of the night,” Ruby announces into the mic. The crowd screams in displeasure, something she’s soon to fix as she grins, “But that just means we’re not the ones singing! Everyone you all remember my Uncle Qrow?”

Suffice to say, the audience cheered even louder as the legendary Qrow Branwen walks on stage.

He’s a man who wowed the world of rock music as he and his band amped up the genre with music of unlucky omens and fires of heated summers. Since the band has grown up, one of them left the grid of the world while the other three became mentors of newly born musicians.

Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long were a blessed result of the trio of STRQ along with the team up of Weiss Schnee and Blake Belladonna. They change the world of music but at this moment, Qrow decides now is the perfect time to do something a little different than his usual routine of being their manager.

Qrow gets to center stage to rub furiously at Ruby’s hair, “Do you really think people would forget about me?”

“Well yeah,” she teases, “you’re old.”

The audience ooh’s at that burn.

He rolls his eyes, “If this is how I’m being treated then maybe I shouldn’t give you all a final song.”

Again the crowd protests and then begs and chants for him to sing.

The man laughs at all the attention, a little giddy as he mentally prepare for this. All of this is a bit impromptu as he sees off to the side is a joyfully confused Clover Ebi.

Then again, amazingly Qrow and the kids managed to keep this idea a secret. He hopes he can pull this off. After all, he’s doing more than just singing a song in front of a thousand of screaming fans.

No, Qrow’s doing something much scarier.

Yang joins them with his intended instrument, further confusing Clover as he has never seen this in Qrow’s hands.

“As many of you know I taught the pipsqueak the guitar but also this little thing too,” Qrow gestures to the ukulele. “This is definitely something outside of my usual range so um yeah, I’m doing this.”

That’s said mostly to himself as he readjusts the mic on him and the standing one to aim at the ukulele. His girls have already left the stage, choosing to stand with Clover behind the curtain, elbowing him with knowing grins.

Gods they’re embarrassing, he thinks with a sheepish and nervous grin. He catches Clover’s eyes and winks just to get the lucky charm to blush.

Ha, serves him right after months of making Qrow blush furiously.

He plays a few notes as the crowd ceases their noise, eager to listen to the skills of a master guitarist.

“I’m sure some of you guys have seen my latest interview, if not then I guess you’ll be surprised to hear that I’m going sober.” Some people in the crowd whoop and politely clap. “Huh now that I think about it, maybe I should’ve rehearsed Coming Clean.” Qrow shakes his head, “No that’s a topic for another night. What I’m here strumming this ukulele is for someone important to me.”

Qrow stopped drinking for a number of reasons, his nieces being the top ones but also he needed to reassert some of his own issues. Clover somehow ended up in his life, a meeting through James about RWBY’s album schedule, and the rest of history.

“Let me tell you all, withdrawals are hell,” He continues, “and it nearly makes the whole recovery not worth it in the beginning.” Qrow shakes his head, physically getting rid of the nights where he was a shivering, gaging mess, “Like I said, hell, but I’ll go through it and back to have my old brain again.”

His fingers pick at the four strings, a quick melody of nothing in particular.

“I do feel kind of different, I don’t feel as old as my age is,” Qrow admits to the audience. They’re all listening, captured by the way he strums and picks at the small instrument. He should really get to his point before he loses his courage. “Aside from that, I have to thank that important person who’s really been a big change in my life.

“He’s this stupidly optimistic guy that just won’t leave me alone,” he complains and droops his head, “and his arms are as stupidly big as his smile.”

Some members of the audience cheer at that, knowing exactly who he’s talking about. From the social media of RWBY, there are some updates on Qrow’s growing relationship with Clover.

It all started with him tripping over the poor guy, sending them to the floor as Ruby nearly knocked over Ozpin’s lamp. After that it was meeting after meeting between Qrow and Clover, the assistant record producer of James’ record company. It was all business until Clover winked at him too many times to count and Winter of all people shoved them into a closet.

From there on out it has been dates that brought a weird fluff back into Qrow’s heart.

He just wants to return the favor as he finishes his mindless strumming.

For weeks he practiced this song to the point where his voice was raw and his fingers and wrists ache and his heart felt full.

Qrow takes a deep breath in the silence around him and risks a glance to Clover.

The brunet is patiently waiting and wondering what’s going on but there is this soft look in his teal eyes, something only reserved for Qrow.

In the beginning of their relationship, Qrow had no idea why or if he even deserved that smile. After weeks of talking it out, pouring his heart out to Clover and Ruby and a trusted therapist, Qrow is in a better headspace.

Yeah, he feels lighter than ever and he really wants to sing this song to Clover.

Sure there’s a grand audience as well but that’s mostly to get Qrow his confidence up, an old feeling he got when he used to perform with Summer, Tai, and Raven.

With all of that in mind, he strums the chords, “Wise men say, only fools rush in but I can’t help falling in love with you.”

A collective gasp comes from the people, a rising cheer before they quiet down to hear the gravel voice of Qrow.

“Shall I stay, will it be a sin?” He closes his eyes, asking, “If I can’t help falling in love with you?”

Qrow denied it at first. The intense feelings and longing that grew for Clover. He was everything Qrow was not, lucky and cheery and stable. It was like a cruel joke to meet him, to be clumsy and barely starting sobriety and he always gets hit with bad luck left and right.

It was simple stuff like cracked mugs or dying phone batteries. Clover was even there when Qrow just entered the recording booth and suddenly Weiss’ keyboard glitched and can only make dog barks.

Then there was the fateful incident where Qrow discovered one of Blake’s songs got corrupted in its data. There were constant technical issues Qrow dealt with in STRQ’s days but it felt even more devastating since it was something Blake has been pouring her heart into.

Qrow blamed himself for the delay in Nevermore song’s progress even if the girl assured him it was not his fault. Clover was the one to really snap him out of it, break through to Qrow that accidents can and will happen with or without Qrow’s input.

Sure he wasn’t convinced at first but it was nice to have someone hold him during one of his anxiety attacks.

In the present, Qrow sings, “Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling so it goes. Somethings are meant to be.”

Clover enjoys it when he’s called lucky and he even joked that he was lucky to catch Qrow in his fall. He made way too many ‘fell for me’ flirts much to Qrow’s embarrassment so singing this song is a little bit of homage to their introduction.

But now it’s more than that as Qrow faces away from the crowd to look Clover in the eyes, “Take my hand, take my whole life too.” He swallows nervously, his voice wavering as he continues, “For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Clover is jaw slacken, his eyes watery and without even looking, takes Ruby’s offered mic and strides over to Qrow, harmonizing, “Like a river flows, surely to the sea. Darling so it goes. Somethings are meant to be.”

Now the whole concert hall joins them but it is far from the world Qrow is a part of as he can only stare and smile at his boyfriend. Clover meets him in the center and since Qrow is busy playing the ukulele, Clover reaches one hand up to brush the hair out of Qrow’s eyes.

“Take my hand,” Clover’s voice is beauty, tugs at his heart and it clutches as they get closer to the point where their foreheads brush against each other. “Take my whole life too.”

“Cause I can’t help falling in love with you,” they harmonize together, the audience’s loudness becoming mere background noise that adds to the hum of their hearts.

“Cause I can’t help falling in love with you,” is repeated for the last time, drawing out the strength of the words as pulse through everyone but most importantly between Qrow and Clover.

Qrow’s fingers are red from the strumming, the ukulele in his weak hold as the music stops but the audience continues roaring but all he can focus on is the warmth and love from Clover.

He mumbles into Qrow’s lips, “But I can’t help falling in love with you, Qrow.”

That is all Qrow wants to hear as he wraps his arms around Clover, ignoring the rest of the world as they kiss.

[aconitewolfsbane]

Well, I hate my brother...

My brother, well, one of them, is an arsehole. Okay, honestly, both of them are, but this is about the oldest one.

He’s being getting absolutely fucking terrible these last few years. Seriously, it’s pretty much elder abuse, so tw:abuse if you need it.

I mean, wow. Here’s just a short list of his arseholery. Putting under the cut because damn, there’s a lot. Stuff in bold means it’s an ongoing issue that we’ve been dealing with for years:

-- I’ve caught him with his hands in mum’s purse when she was in the shower. He immediately denies it, despite me seeing his hand literally in her purse. -- When she was diagnosed with cataracts (which she’s since had the surgery for, and is okay now), he told her that he had cleaned when he clearly didn’t, because he knew she couldn’t tell the difference. -- He picks random fights with mum, then denies that he started it. Even after being told to go to his room to cool down, he waits until I’m gone before coming back out to start on her again. He has driven her to tears on multiple occasions like this. -- Despite knowing that she’s a diabetic, he steals her limited food supplies. He always claims “Oh, I didn’t know...” yet doesn’t hesitate to do it again. -- Even though she’s on a pension, and he gets one of his own, every single one of her paydays, he jabs his hand out demanding money. Throws a goddamn fit if she tries to tell him that she can’t spare it. Continues being an arse until she either gives him her taxi money for next week, or he manages to steal it from her bag. -- When she had cataracts, she had to walk slower and more carefully to make she that she didn’t fall over anything. He decided that she was too slow, and instead of going around the other side of the house and coming in the unlocked back door, he pushed her out of his way. Thankfully, I was nearby and managed to catch her. -- Because of her cataracts, he started waling around the house in one of three things. His underwear; his adult diapers (he drinks too much coke, and it’s wrecked his guts); his damned birthday suit. Yes, he walks around naked sometimes in the house where he lives with his mother, and his sister. -- When we reminded him that he lives with his mother and sister, and we don’t want to see him at all, he called me a bitch for not wanting to see one of my brothers naked. -- Opens her mail without her permission. This is because when she had the cataracts, she let him open and read out some stuff because she couldn’t do it herself, and he seemed to have taken that as an open invitation. -- If she’s on the phone, regardless of if it’s outgoing or incoming, he tries to listen in. If he can’t, usually because I’m there and he knows I’ll yell at him for it, then he’ll wait until I’m gone and harass mum until she tells him who she was talking to. We started just saying “santa clause. he said you aint getting shit this year", and he started to back off. -- Has THREE showers per day. Denies it. And yet, there’s only three people in this house. Someone is having a shower at 4-5am, again around 8am, and then again at night around 8. It’s not me, and it’s not mum. I sarcastically suggest someone is breaking into the house early every morning to have a shower, and he leaps at the idea, claiming that’s exactly what happens. And if I suggested that the cats are having showers at 4am, he’d try to convince us that’s true too... -- Has her fearful of being hit. He’s about 6 foot tall, and she’s barely 5′5, so... -- Has almost hit me multiple times, because I was trying to tell him to stop being such an arsehole to mum. He responds by calling me a bitch. -- Walks up and down the hallway in heavy boots. He’s destroyed the lino. We have both told him not to do it; as it’s annoying, and keeps us both awake; he yells like we’ve told him that he has to give all of his comics to charity. -- Complains whenever mum asks him to do even the simplest job. -- When she had cataracts, he was being a shit about sweeping the kitchen floor for mum. I told him. “Geez, it’s not like she’s asking you to donate a bloody kidney.” His response? “Yes it is!” He compared helping his legally blind elderly mother with a small bit of housework to be the same as undergoing major transplant surgery. -- Throws tantrums, because he has the reasoning skills of a 3-year-old. “I want this!” “Sorry, but no.” “I WANT!” “No. How about this instead?” “No! I don't want that!” “Well, I can’t get the other thing.” “I WANT IT!!” -- He also tells us he’s going to the shops. If we want him to get us something and start getting out the money, he throws a tantrum. He decide that he doesn’t want to go to the shop anymore, and storms into his room. Half and hour later, he slips out and goes to the shop. We don’t get the thing that we needed. However, if we gave him the money to get food for everyone including him, like hot chips, he’ll rush out the door.

The following stuff are things that I actually have dates for. (I only decided to start writing all his behaviour down last year...) I won’t write the dates though. Each entry is from one single day.

-- I made burgers for mum and I, because he’d already eaten something from the shops. He threw a fit because he’s a bottomless pit who buys a weeks worth of tv dinners, eats them all in three meals, then complains about not having any food. -- Demanded $10 from mum so he could go buy milk. She only had the money she needed to get into town the next day. He threw a tantrum. Tried to bully her travel money from her. She had to threaten not to give him any money when she got her pension to make him back down. He later went and got the milk with his own money. -- In the course of ONE DAY, he argued with mum at least FIVE TIMES about: the mess in the laundry that he didn’t clean up when he was told; the fact that he refuses to deal with the rubbish properly, including separating the recycling; and the fact that he wasn’t getting money because he was acting like a shithead. -- Walked around naked again. Mum tried to tell him why he shouldn’t do that. He called her a stupid bitch, threatened not to give her his share of the rent money anymore. I reminded him that if we can’t make rent because of him and get kicked out, he’ll be kicked out too, and we’ll fucking burn his precious comics to stay warm. He backed down. -- Stole mum’s food again. Called me a bitch when I tried to explain that taking other people’s things without permission is called stealing. Threw an old phone book at me. When mum and I tried to quietly discuss what to do about his behaviour, he suddenly decided to start mopping the bathroom floor, just so he could eavesdrop. Then he started thumping repeatedly up and down the hallway outside my bedroom door, knowing that I was trying to rest because the stress gave me a headache. He then started up with mum again, because he thinks he has the right to take whatever food he wants. This was after I brought each of us a 30pack of eggs on Sunday. By Tuesday, he had only 6 left. This shitstorm happened on Friday, when he’d decided that mum not scoffing all her food by then meant that she didn’t want it anymore, and he helped himself. -- He change the batteries on mum’s pay TV remote, but somehow, he managed to pull the case apart, damaging it. (The bottom edge was lifted up, and there was a noticeable crack in the casing.) He of course, denied ever being near it, despite the fact that he’s always randomly changing the batteries despite there being no noticeable issue with the current ones. He threatened to take his freshly boiled cup of tea and throw it at my legs to scald me. Reached for his mug whilst glaring at me. I had to thump him to make him realise that I’m not scared of that pissy little baby. Then, once I had gone back to my room, he came back out and started yelling at mum, blaming her for the fact that I saw the remote and realised it was damaged. He threatened to give me serious burns over a TV remote control.

That section above? Happened last year, between April and November. This year, he’s:

-- Threw a tantrum because I informed him, well in advance, that I wouldn’t be able to buy pizza for dinner on his birthday this year. (We’ve planning on moving soon, and I needed the money to start stocking up on supplies, and saving for the usual expenses.) Mum offered to buy him a frozen pizza when she went shopping on the Tuesday before his birthday. He started on her because he apparently wants an expensive pizza that someone else pays for and he doesn’t need to cook. He got into the shower, and we could still hear him complaining.

And this morning: He left no hot water for mum. It’s winter here in Australia. She’s 69 years old, with diabetes, a bad leg, a heart condition and finally, PTSD from her time in the Homes. (Church/state run orphanages, loaded with sexual abuse and mistreatment. She was part of the Stolen Generation, and has been granted a settlement through the recent Redress Scheme for victims of systematic abuse. A small settlement, nowhere nearly enough for the abuse and trauma she lives with, but we didn’t expect the church to even admit that they’d fucked up anyway. Getting anything was a surprise, TBH.) All this, and she had to have a cold shower in winter. She simply asked him not to take so much hot water. He threw a tantrum, denied having more than one shower a day, screamed at her as she stood there shivering in a towel. I stepped out of my room to get him to back off. He started on me. I got so fucking pissed off that I grabbed the broom handle and belted the piece of shit a few times.

Violence is literally the only thing he understands. Every time he starts to get shitty, he will continue until I threaten violence. Then he realises that he’s gone too far and sent me over the edge, and he backs down. But he’ll still grumble and call me a bitch for trying to get him to stop bullying our mother. He’ll also try to slip out and keep arguing with her the moment I’m back in my room. Which he did as I was writing all this. And yet, he still expects her to give him money every single time he puts his hand out. She only does it because it’s not worth the tantrum he’ll kick off if she doesn’t.

And just in case you think I’m talking about a dirtbag teenaged brother, or a moody toddler?

He’s 41 years old.

As for calling the police... Tch, they’re useless around here. They were called to our street because of a massive brawl where our fence got damaged, and started point blank they they probably wouldn’t be able to find anybody who was involved. They’d just suggest family counselling. (Mum got counselling in the Homes. That person also molested her.) So we’re very against any sort of counselling. It’s already destroyed this family more than once.

Plus, we live in government housing, which means there’s rules we can’t fight against or appeal, because the government does whatever it wants.

If the police come to the address too often, we’ll be kicked out. If my brother is arrested and jailed, we’ll be kicked out. (There’s some rule that there has to be at least as many people living in the house as the number of bedrooms. Three bedrooms, so three people. If he goes, we’re on the streets, or will be shoved into cramped flats to slowly die.)

We’re also barely making ends meet. Without him paying part of the rent, we’re screwed.

Anyway, I just mostly needed to rant.