#i’m assuming that death was supposed to be emotional but it just felt shallow and unsatisfying

[sharpened-kris]

So that it? Izzy’s just fucking dead now? Everyone gets a happy ending but him? What was even the point of having him grow and giving us hope of a better future for him if he was just going to die at the end anyways.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  8.4; Lantern Rite 3

X-Xiao...kissed me...?  You still couldn't wrap your head around what just happened, even after he seemed to move on from the topic and sit back down on the viewing rock, his eyes casting a wonderous gaze at the lights that floated above the two of you.  You were unaware that his and your eyes had flashed their signature glow when he placed a kiss between your brows, signaling the official sealing of your bond with the adeptus.

So it's sealed, Xiao made the conscious effort to keep his eyes on the lanterns while he thought to himself.  Her pain should subside now.  He could still hear the faint bustling of Liyue Harbor to the right of the cliff, and his lips twitched into a miniscule frown for a split second.  I won't be able to hear her play music anymore.  His gaze flit to you, still recuperating from his touch and a deep shade of crimson.

"Aren't you going to sit?"  His words sliced through the silent air much like his blade.  

"U-uh, yes!"  You squeaked, putting a bit of space between your bodies in the process, mostly because of embarrassment.  "So, um...the lanterns...do you like them?"  Your fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

"They...are not half-bad," he begrudgingly admitted.  When you sent him a glance, you noted the pink that painted the tips of his ears as he avoided looking your way.  

"I'm glad I got to see you today," you smiled and returned your gaze to the sky.  A comfortable silence befell you two, while the crickets began to sing and the fireflies assisted in lighting the hill alongside the lanterns.  It was peaceful.  Even after the lights of the lanterns dimmed and could no longer be seen in the air, the two of you sat overlooking the harbor.  

"When will you be leaving?"

"At the end of the week, at the latest.  We might be leaving tomorrow--er, I guess it's technically today now--but Childe hasn't said anything yet."  You caught a glimpse of what you assumed to be dejection in his eyes, and tussled his hair.

"What are you doing? I'm not a child," he dodged you before your hand could mess his hair up even more.  His eyes narrowed at you with suspicion, not quite knowing what you were getting at.

"You looked sad, so I thought I should cheer you up," you answered cheekily, much to his bemusement.

"I do not understand how patronizing me is supposed to 'cheer' me up," he watched your hand come up and run through his hair much gentler this time.

"I'd rather get you to banter with me than look like that."  You had thought he would pull away again, but much to your surprise he held still--and even seemed to lean in slightly as if he enjoyed the gesture.  "Can I play with your hair, Xiao?"

"Why bother asking when you're already doing it?" He half-complained before getting up and sitting in front of you so his back leaned against your shins and his head lay onto the spots above your knees.  He made a show of false disinterest as per usual, but he ended his little charade with a slim smile as he looked up at your embarrassed expression.

He's never been this open, you struggled to comprehend his gestures while your hands re-embedded themselves in his locks.  I’m blessed to see his smile.  He watched you closely, observing the small waves of happiness, excitement, shock and embarrassment wash over your face.  He observed the gentle nature in your eyes, and the content smile you'd return to him when you occasionally worked up the courage to meet his gaze halfway.  

Eventually, you felt his shoulders relax and he allowed himself to put his full weight against you, his eyes hesitantly fluttering closed soon after.  If a kiss to the eyelids was a sign of placing trust in one another, this had to be the ultimate display of trust coming from the adeptus.  He never slept when you were adventuring with Aether--or at least, you never caught him batting an eye.  Always said something like 'You have no respect for the ways of the adepti,' or 'Sleep is for mortals.'

And yet here you were, stuck between him and the rock you sat on, as his breathing turned slow and shallow, his face relaxing to that of a rare vulnerability of a long-lost innocence both of you thought he no longer had.  It was clear he reveled in your touch as you traced circles along his scalp and lulled him to sleep with the soft familiar hum of your moonsong.  Even after the lights of the stars were the only ones illuminating your dark surroundings, you continued to hold him.

The yaksha's dreams were light and fleeting, much like his natural agility in combat.  Dreaming was rare, but when it happened, it seldom excluded the voices of bygone gods and wraiths.  What was once an image of the human he came to love was now a void of indescribable darkness that loomed ever closer to his restrained soul.  Threats of instilling terror, misfortune, and death upon you reached his ears, and the tension around his chest tightened until he found it difficult to breathe.  

When he felt like he was drowning, being swallowed by the fear of losing you, hurting you, causing you pain--

You felt Xiao tense against you and peered down at him to find his eyebrows furrowed together and the corner of his lips twitching.  Is he having a nightmare?  You observed him for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when he--quite literally--began to growl much like an agitated animal.  His eyes were still squeezed shut, albeit tighter than before, and his nails dug themselves into his skin like he was struggling to ground himself.  The feral look on his face made your jaw tighten.

Once you recovered from having the daylights scared out of you, one of your hands left his hair and traced his temple in a circular motion.  "It's okay, I'm here."

Xiao jolted awake, one of his hands shooting up to grab your wrist in a tight grip as if he had thought he was about to be attacked.  His eyelids flew open just as quickly, his breathing an unsteady pant and his blurry vision finally coming to focus on the shadow of the concerned human that loomed over his body.  His grip loosened when he realized it was you, and his thumb rubbed the spot where his nails had broken skin with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"  He had moved so quickly, you weren't even aware that he had scratched you.  You rotated your hand so that you could hold his, giving him a reassuring smile when he squeezed back.  His gaze hardened as he lifted his head and broke eye contact.

"It was nothing." He was wide awake now, not being able to bear another one of those stupid dreams.  He didn't need that right now; he just wanted to bask in your presence and forget about his worries.  But that intense fear of his selfishness bringing harm to you loomed at the back of his mind as he glanced over to you.

Can I really indulge in such humanistic behaviors and put you in danger?  

"Xiao?  What's wrong?"  There was that look again; it wasn't his usual indifferent expression, but one that revealed a heavy burden of anxiety in the depths of his pupils.

Can I allow myself to be vulnerable with you, without a guilty conscience?  Zhongli even said himself that you would be in danger of his karma even after the bond is sealed...So why did he do it?  Why did he admit his feelings while knowing it would cause you pain in the long run?  Did human emotions cause him to think irrationally and make a brash decision?  Is that what they do?

"...Xiao?"

"Rise."  The adeptus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around you until the surrounding world warped unsteadily.  The feeling nearly made you vomit, but just as quickly as the world spun, it stopped and your feet were on steady ground again.  

"Huh?"  You caught your bearings and took a moment to recognize your surroundings.  The two of you were in a small bedroom, with the moonlight falling through the window.  "Is this Wangshu Inn?  I-I can't...Childe said I can't be here--"

"Humans need sleep to function properly.  You can't sleep outside."  He shot you a stern look when you opened your mouth to protest further, and you couldn't help but think he was trying to push you away again.

This time, he was doing it a bit differently.  

"Where will you sleep?"  You gestured around the small room that had only one bed.

"I have business to attend to.  I'll be back by sunrise."

You took a deep breath and took the plunge.  "You can't run away from your fears, Xiao."  The yaksha froze, one of his eyebrows twitching in response.  "That's what you're doing right now, isn't it?"

"Mortals do not understand the burdens adepti--"  A raised brow got the words stuck in his throat.  The bond is sealed, is it not?  How can she see right through me?

"I asked you to trust me, Xiao.  Don't burden yourself so much.  I can take some of the weight off your shoulders; all you have to do is let me."

A human helping an adeptus with his burden? It shouldn't be that way.  What could you even do for me?  The weight on my shoulders would crush you.  He wanted to mutter the words, but it was clear they would fall on deaf ears at the moment.  He desperately wanted to disappear from the room for your own protection against his karmic debt, and he would've, but...I don't want to leave just yet.

The yaksha positioned himself so that he leaned against the door while you got under the fluffy covers that lay on the bed.  It had to be two in the morning by now, surely, your human mind must be exhausted.  He could go without sleep after that awful dream earlier...

"Xiao?"  Your half-whisper travelled through the dark room.  "Can you, um...Will you...Could you maybe lay next to me?"

It took a moment for your words to be processed.  Join her in bed?  Why?  "I'm naturally inclined to stand watch.  Go to sleep." A meek and disappointed 'okay' from the bed drew a reluctant sigh from his lips, but you had already drifted off.  It didn’t take long for the air in the room to grow unusually cold, and the familiar groans accompanying your nightmares to be heard.

................

"I won't let you take him!"  Your cry dropped the temperature of the throne room below zero, and your captor laughed at the pitiful display of power.  Despite your show of bravado, you were trembling before her.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's lips spread into a thin, daring smile.  "Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are still and always will be under my control."  The amusement didn't reach her eyes.

"Stay away!"  A warning shot of solid ice grazed the Tsaritsa's cheek, to which her eyes narrowed after recovering from what you assumed was shock.  Shock that you actually touched her.  "If you dare to touch him, I'll--"

"You'll what?"  She tested with a raised brow, motioning for Scaramouche to bring out the messy gift of a bloodied, unconscious--or dead--yaksha.  He threw him at your feet.

"No!"

Your eyelids shot open, nose inhaling a deep, slow breath when your consciousness returned to the room in Wangshu Inn.  Light flooded through the windows and illuminated your surroundings, and you could hear the local wildlife singing in the tree branches directly outside the window.

It seems like you also had an unconscious fear eating away at you, just like Xiao.  But something about that nightmare was off...why did she look at you like that?  The shock on her face...Was that your unconscious view of her, or was it something more?  Surely she couldn't have actually been in your dream.  The mere idea of it sent a chill down your spine.

And what was with this qingxin flower-scented pillow? It was nice and toasty, and--Oh my gods, why is it moving?!

"X-Xiao?!"  Your gaze dropped to your arms, which were wrapped tightly around his abdomen.  Your head shot up only to hit his lower jaw, drawing groans from both of you.  I'm cuddling him?! What the hell?!

"You wanted me here," he muttered shyly while rubbing the spot you had just collided with.  "You weren't sleeping well."

"But...But I thought you declined!"  Despite your obvious distress, your grip around him didn't loosen, and he didn't make it a goal to move, either.  He tensed when you returned to your original spot with your face buried at the crook of his neck.  Your disturbing dream was long-forgotten now that you had this to worry about.

"You're telling me you don't remember dragging me under the covers?"

"EH?!"  Your face burned hot with embarrassment and you raised your head to look at him in horror.  This time, your grip around him loosened.  I sleep walk?  I don’t remember ever having that habit.  What else have I done?!  "Did I really do that?"

"Hmph."  The slightest twitch at the corner of his lips.  He was laughing at you.  Foolish.  Of course you didn't.

"You're so mean!" You gawked and reburied your face once you caught onto his amusement, his arm hesitantly slinking across you in response.  You'd never been so close to him before.  It was difficult to calm yourself from being so up-close and personal with him so early in the morning; the way his toned stomach rose and fell as he breathed, his breath tickling your ear; how muscular his arm felt on top of you...Ooooh, this was too much to deal with after just waking up--Archons, what're you even thinking this early in the morning?!

Xiao thought it was odd how often your ears turned a bright shade of red, but he never brought it up.  He had a feeling if he pointed it out you would just turn a deeper shade and evade giving a straight answer.  Maybe Zhongli or Aether could help him understand this weird human display...

...................

"Good morning, Zhongli! Aether! Paimon!"  Your excited wave to the trio grabbed their attention as they walked through the main street of Liyue.  "Sorry about, er, running away last night!"  

"You're looking better," Paimon commented while a relieved Aether returned your greeting.  "What's got your spirit up?"

"Hm?"  Your fingers twitched.  "Oh, uh, well..."  You looked to Xiao for an easy getaway.  "I found him, so..."

"I found you," the adeptus corrected, arms crossing across his chest as he avoided your gaze.  

"Did you see the Mingxiao lantern?  It exploded! It was so cool!"  When you shook your head 'no,' Aether busily filled you in with graphic details of the largest plaustrite lantern in twenty years.

Xiao's avoiding eye contact, and you are brimming with happiness while sneaking glances at him...Zhongli observed you two extra carefully, taking note of every minute movement you were making.  I see.  The bond may or may not have sealed, but I am almost certain another event came to pass last night.  These are the symptoms humans call 'afterglow,' are they not?

Zhongli cleared his throat and interrupted the animated conversation.  "It is not a Liyue specialty, but why don't I treat you all to a meal of red bean rice?"

"Red bean rice? What's that?"  Aether scrunched his eyebrows together when he didn’t recognize the name of the dish.  It was a given he would be the one to pay for it all, so he was conditioned into automatically accepting the matter.  It no longer surprised him that Zhongli would offer to pay despite lacking mora.

"Oh! Paimon knows this one!" The floating mascot hurriedly whirled around with stars in her eyes at the thought of food.  "It's traditionally an Inazuman dish, but it is served on special occasions like weddings, birthdays, and--"

"What's the occasion?" It was your turn to send Zhongli a quizzical look, but Xiao looked disinterested in the conversation.  "I don't remember any of our birthdays coming up, and we definitely don't have any weddings, either."

Zhongli thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he faced you with a straight expression.  "In honor of your consummation, of course."

"WHAT?!"  You nearly choked on nothing, while Aether and Paimon's jaws practically dropped to the floor.  Today's morning air seemed to heat up quite a bit, aha...

"W-wait, Zhongli! You can't just blurt that out!" Paimon frantically waved her hands out in front of her.  "People don't talk about that in public! It's inappro--"

"Wow, um," Aether awkwardly scratched the back of his head and released a nervous laugh.  "This isn't really something I thought I'd have to hear about."  He shyly averted his eyes to avoid your flabbergasted gawking.

"Wait! That's not...That didn't...!"  You failed to blurt the words out as your cheeks heated up more and more.  Oh boy, it was getting especially hot in the sun, wasn't it?  "We didn't!"  Your head whipped to Xiao, and you urged him on.  "Say something!"

"I-is this true, Xiao?"  Despite Aether's awkwardness, it was clear as day that he and Paimon just had to have confirmation to quell their disbelief and recover from the shock of Zhongli's bluntness.  "Did you guys...?"

"We slept together, yes."

"XIAO!"  Your shriek of horror caught the attention and annoyance of the strangers walking past the group as they were cleaning up from the Lantern Rite.  Feeling all eyes on you, your shrunk in on yourself, face burning with even more embarrassment.  The way he said it! Without so much as a smidge of hesitation!  This humiliation was too much; honestly, you’d prefer if you could crawl into a hole and hide right now.  "He didn't mean it like that!" You whisper-yelled at the trio, who all held smug, knowing expressions that weren’t too far off from that Albedo-fellow you met.  "Will you stop?! We just slept next to each other, that's it! I swear!"  You sent a slight glare in Xiao's direction.

"Oh-ho?" The all-too familiar sneer of a harbinger brought you a small sense of relief now that the attention shifted away from you.  "That's it, ojou-chan?"  Childe's cocky grin prompted you to roll your eyes.  Finally, some color's returned to your cheeks.  And that constant grimace of pain is absent, too...So their bond must be sealed; her Majesty will be pleased.

"Stay away from her!  Aether!"  Paimon gestured for the boy to pull his sword, and he did.  Xiao simultaneously sidestepped ahead of you, his face distorting into a scowl.  Zhongli, on the other hand remained still, his eyes the coldest you've ever seen.

"Relax.  I'm not here to fight," Childe chided. He remained as relaxed and unconcerned as ever despite Aether pointing the edge of the blade at his throat.  This man faced death with a smile-

"That's what you said last time, and you proceeded to attack us anyway," the traveler growled.  

"That's in the past."  Childe's eyes flit to Zhongli for a moment.  Ah, so he still hasn't told them?  Does the yaksha know, then?  He caught the uneasy side glance Xiao gave his master.  He does.  This’ll be interesting.  His gaze shifted to you.  "You disobeyed orders last night, Mezzetin."

"Mezzetin?"  Paimon's face twisted unhappily.  "What kind of dumb pet name is that?"

"Step closer, and I'll use force," warned the yaksha, who didn't conjure his weapon to avoid the prying eyes of Liyue's citizens.  Not that it would make a difference, anyway; people were already casting side glances at Aether's sword.

"No, you wouldn't.  Not here," the harbinger called his bluff, and didn't remove his gaze from you.  "So, I take it your time here was well-spent?  Good.  We'll be leaving tomorrow."

You took a half-step forward.  "Tomorrow? But--"

"I'm afraid I have business to discuss with you," Zhongli finally broke his silence, and the atmosphere grew tense when Childe's gaze sharpened in response.  "It may delay your leave."

"Oh?  Whatever do you want to discuss with me, Mr. Zhongli?"  The atmosphere grew heavier until it felt like the entire group was suffocating, Childe's icy smile sending chills down your spine.  He wore his usual friendly façade, but that just made it all the more worrisome as his eyes were vacant and calculating.  

"Uh-oh," Paimon squeaked, and disappeared.

"I'm sorry, dear friends, but I will have to take a rain check on our little celebration."

"We weren't even celebrating anything!"  Heat rose to your cheeks until the archon sent you an admonishing look that told you it really wasn't the time for your chirps.  He was practically emanating anger, hot and boiling to the point where you couldn't bear to stand there any longer.  It was like being in a boiling pot of water.

"Come."  Xiao snapped you out of your daze and encouraged you and Aether to follow him.  "They have matters to discuss."

[saphirered]

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Heyo, reporting back to request a continuation of a continuation of a continuation, if you wouldn't mind! Aka, please more 3rd Life Villainpulse angst, I'm so invested (and very curious as to whether his latest murder attempt was an actual success, or if he really should have stuck around to verify the death...)

i genuinely rly love this! i’ve got such plans for it now that i think i’ll make it into an actual proper fic.

i’ve also now posted it on AO3, titled Stand For Nothing! link here

…

Impulse is getting concerned. It’s been over five minutes and no death message in chat. It should’ve happened by now. He had been worried about being found near the scene of a death — it’d already been about five minutes since the meeting and someone would’ve gone to find Skizz, so his items would almost certainly be found — but now he’s starting to think he should have stuck around anyway and made sure the job was finished.

He had been intending to stay here at his villager trading centre until the death notification came up and then he would run back to Dogwarts and play the distressed best friend.

But no death message. So his plan has to change.

When he makes it back to Dogwarts, he finds Ren standing outside the Renchanting building, his face pale. When he spots Impulse, he quickly beckons him. “Impulse! For the love of god, where’ve you been?!”

Impulse blinks. With no death message in chat, what can Ren be so worked up about? “W-What? What’s happened…?”

“Skizzle’s been attacked! We heard an explosion outside our walls and when we went to check, we found him out there, passed out. He’s in a critical condition but Martyn’s with him now and hopefully he’ll recover.”

Impulse can only stare at Ren with an open mouth and a pit in his stomach. Somehow, in all the possible outcomes he pictured for this scenario, he never imagined Dogwarts would actually find Skizz alive. After three perfect murders, it seems he got careless.

“O-Oh my god,” he manages to choke out. “C-Can I see him?”

“Not yet, but Martyn will tell us when we can.”

Ren takes him down into the living area under Renchanting. There, Etho is pacing back and forth in front of a closed door, clearly deep in thought, but he glances up as Ren comes in. “Ren, you found him.”

Ren nods, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Any word?”

“Not yet. Martyn has three healing potions in there with him though, so I’d say Skizz’s chances are really good.”

Impulse has to strain to keep his expression steady at that. “G-Good. That’s good.”

Something changes almost imperceptibly in Etho’s expression, but Ren, clearly not noticing, rubs Impulse’s back reassuringly. “He’ll be okay, Impulse. Don’t worry.”

All Impulse can do is nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and Martyn appears, his body blocking the view inside the room. “He’s awake,” he reports, a very serious look on his face. “Ren.”

Ren quickly ducks into the room, but when Impulse starts to follow, Martyn blocks him. “Not you,” he says coldly. “Etho, stay with him, please.”

Impulse’s heart freezes. There’s only one reason Martyn would stop him from seeing his injured best friend.

Skizz has told him everything.

He takes a step back and bumps into something behind him, causing him to jump.

“What’s going on, Impulse?” asks Etho casually, an only-just-discernible undertone of danger in his voice. “You seem a little tense.”

“My best friend almost died,” Impulse replies coldly, but even he can tell his words are unconvincing.

“Indeed. I wonder how that happened?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Etho. Why would you have any reason to suspect me?”

Etho just folds his arms and says nothing, infuriating Impulse. “You said I was the only person on this server you really trust!”

“That was before I joined these guys. I’ve had a weird feeling in my stomach about you for a while, Impulse. Something hasn’t felt right since this whole thing started, but I assumed it was just me trying to apply rationality to this irrational world. But one thing never changes, Impulse. No matter how much you try to change it.”

Impulse falls silent, scowling at the ground. He’s already given away too much in his tone and expression.

He glances sideways at Etho, who has his eyes fixed on the door Ren and Martyn went through. Realisation dawns on him: Etho isn’t expecting him to put up a fight. Etho thinks he has nowhere to go.

Now is the time, then. He can’t afford to wait any longer; when Ren and Martyn come back out here, it’s over. Impulse knows he can’t take on three people at once. This is his last chance to escape alive.

So when Etho shifts position a few seconds later, Impulse strikes. Before he can react, Impulse sweeps Etho’s legs out from under him and shoves him into the wall as he’s falling. Without waiting around to see the result of his attack, Impulse takes off running.

He makes it out of Renchanting and is just about to run down the hill towards the crastle when an arrow whizzes by him, nicking the sleeve of his t-shirt and causing him to lose his balance. Suppressing a scream, Impulse topples down the hill and lands in the shallow river at the bottom. He tries to continue onward but has to stop as he puts weight on his left foot and realises he must have twisted his ankle during his fall.

Gritting his teeth through the throbbing pain, he looks up in time to be able to dodge another arrow fired at him by the figure on top of Dogwarts’s wall.

He has to keep going.

Every step on his left foot is agony but he pushes himself on, half-galloping down the hill on the other side, the crastle in his sights.

“Bdubs!” he shrieks as he draws near, his heart racing. The Red Army is likely right behind him. “BDUBS!”

The person he’s calling rushes out of the castle over the drawbridge just in time to catch Impulse as he finally loses his balance and pitches forward.

“Impulse! You’re soaking wet!? What the-?!”

“Th- They’re coming for me,” he croaks. His eyes flicker up and he spots two faces in the windows on the second floor. It’s time for the performance of his life. “Dogwarts turned on me! They think I killed Tango and Cleo a-a-and made you kill Joel!”

“What?!” gasps Bdubs. “That’s ridiculous! Why would they think that?!”

“I-I don’t know but th- They’re gonna kill me, Bdubs…!”

“Not on my watch!”

Bdubs quickly ushers Impulse inside the crastle and into the waiting arms of Jimmy. Together, the two guide Impulse upstairs and lay him down in the bed Grian has placed in a position safely away from the slit windows.

“What happened, Impulse?” Bdubs asks softly. “How did they turn on you?”

Impulse takes a shaky breath. “Something happened to Skizz. He… He got attacked. Then he told everyone it was me and that I’d killed Tango and Cleo and manipulated you into killing Joel.”

“First of all, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Bdubs snaps. “I killed Joel because he was about to kill you. And second, why on earth would you want to kill Tango or Cleo?”

“I-I think you might’ve been right, Bdubs. I th-think Etho was responsible for Cleo’s death. And now he’s got Dogwarts trying to make me a scapegoat.”

Bdubs’s gaze darkens. “Despicable little-.”

“BDOUBLEO!”

“Stay there,” says Bdubs.

He strides to the window, flanked by Grian and Scott, armed with his crossbow. “What do you want, Ren?”

Down on the ground, having left Skizz in the care of BigB, stand Ren, Martyn, and Etho, staring up at the castle. The latter two hold bows, while Ren is armed with a sword and shield.

“We know Impulse is hiding out in there,” Ren announces, with the regal but dangerous air of a king. “Hand him over to us, Bdubs.”

“No way in hell,” Bdubs snaps back. “He told me everything!”

“We can guarantee you he did not,” responds Martyn steadily. “Not the truth, anyway. He’s using you, Bdubs.”

“YOU’re the ones using HIM! As a scapegoat!”

“Impulse isn’t the angel you think he is, Bdubs,” Etho says darkly. “You’re protecting the person who killed Cleo.”

“No, YOU killed Cleo,” snarls Bdubs. “And I bet you killed Tango too and tried to blame it on me! You’re just trying to frame anyone you can so you can get away with it!”

Despite the pain and stress he’s experiencing, Impulse can’t help feeling proud of himself. The seeds of doubt and suspicion he’s sown between Bdubs and Etho are paying off now.

“Bdubs.” Ren’s voice drops slightly as emotion creeps into his tone. “He attacked his best friend and left him to die. If we hadn’t found him in time, Skizz would have succumbed to his injuries alone and terrified in the middle of nowhere, murdered by his own best friend.”

“What exactly is Impulse’s motive supposed to be, here?” Scott asks suddenly. “You say he killed Tango and Cleo, orchestrated Joel’s death, and tried to murder Skizzle. Why exactly would he want to do that?”

“Skizz claims Impulse said it was because Tango “knew too much” about something,” Martyn says. “Some kind of secret that Impulse is keeping. And that Cleo’s and Joel’s deaths were “necessary to push the war forward”. That’s his motive, Scott. Impulse wants war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

“We ARE talking about the same Impulse, right?” demands Bdubs. “Our Impulse? The sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly? Are we sure Skizz didn’t just misremember? He's a little unreliable like that. Maybe he said it was someone else who-.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martyn bursts out suddenly, his voice filled with the most venom anyone had ever heard it. “Don’t you DARE say that! You weren’t there, Bdubs! You didn’t have to fix his broken ribs and his fractured neck and his shattered arm! You weren’t there when he finally woke up after several minutes of crying out and panicked breathing like he was having a nightmare! You didn’t hear the way he cried, how terrified he was when he told me what happened, the raw agony in his voice! That’s not the demeanor of someone who MISREMEMBERED! Skizz has gone through hell today and it’s all Impulse’s fault! So I’m not leaving here without his head, in one form or another!”

“YEAH!” Ren yells in agreement, hitting his sword against his shield. “No more arguments. No more wasting time. If you don’t give us Impulse right NOW, we will declare war on you and take him by force.”

Inside the crastle, Impulse’s heart skips a beat. This is it: the moment of truth. Either everything he’s been working towards will finally come to fruition… or Bdubs will hand him over and he will die.

Bdubs straightens up, a steely look of determination appearing in his eyes.

“Then consider us at war.”

[lin-kuei-scout]

"Several bad choices have led me to this moment" + Kung Jin

buzzfeed unsolved drabble prompts

The Netherrealm… It wasn't like the place was hard to describe. You could map out its landscape,  warn about the infernal dryness and lack of moisture, underline the nauseating stench of death and decay and charred flesh that permeates the topmost layers of it, mention the perverse whispering and screaming and pleading you hear all around you, long after you leave it…

What you couldn't explain was the way it sunk into your mind, clawed at your soul, whisked away your resolve and burned at your consciousness, threatening to entrap you if you stayed too long. It was something that had to be felt to be truly understood.

And that's why Kung Jin took the dive, alone.

Part stubborn pride, part selflessness, the young kombatant researched all he could on the subject, looking for a means to get in and out undiscovered -- between dealing with Netherrealm's demons, and getting yelled at by General Sonya Blade, he could hardly imagine which one would be worse.

… Actually, he was pretty sure dealing with Raiden would be the worst of all.

But Kung Jin knew they wouldn't understand, and didn't want to understand. 

Ever since Scorpion -- Hanzo, Takeda's voice scolds him -- ever since Hanzo killed Quan Chi, everyone seemingly just gave up on the prospect of bringing the revenants back. In earnest, Kung Jin wondered if they hadn't given up far longer back than they'd ever admit.

Jackson Briggs was a fine living example of the mental torment they'd be forcing the revenants through, and he was dead for a fraction of the time the others were.

But did that mean they had to give up on saving their souls?

Jin didn't think so.

But it wasn't hard to see that outside of hope and prayer, of stubbornly trying to take back what the Netherrealm had stolen from him, he didn't have a solid plan in mind. He was just there, time and time again, observing from a distance, waiting for the time to do… something.

And maybe that's why the serrated edge of a hat's brim stops a hair's width away from the front of his foot, a masked face looking at him with a curious tilt of a head, the distorted voice that spoke to him proud and mocking, contrasting the expression of guilt cast in iron that the revenant wore.

"For a supposed thief, you don't seem to be very good at hiding."

"Uncle Lao, looking as fresh as always -- not that that's saying much." He was fifty-fifty on sticking to being cordial, and just venting his frustrations through his bitter snark as always, so he'd just sit somewhere in the middle for now. "Who said I was hiding?"

"What else would you call these dangerous games you're playing?" Lao reaches out his hand, and the hat flickers, materializing back in his hand just so that he could put it back on, fingertips running over the razor sharp edges in an obvious threat. "Not many come to the Netherrealm for recreational purposes, I'll have to say."

"Yeah, well, I'm not here for the sights." A tense swallow, and Jin offers a shallow bow of his head, not quite taking his eyes off the other for his own sake. "I wanted to talk to you, Kung Lao, without attracting the other's attention."

This does give the revenant pause, and Jin desperately wishes he could actually see the emotions hiding behind that mask, but when his elder runs his thumb over a sharp sawtooth of his hat before ultimately dropping his hand and instead crossing his arms, leaning slightly forward, he hoped he could take that as a sign of intrigue.

"Well, you've got what you wanted. Now what, exactly? Are you looking to question me? See if I'll turn on Liu Kang, as Raiden did? Share earthrealm news, maybe gossip? Genuinely hope you have brought something worth my time, young man."

"... Actually," Jin starts, but then stops, lips pursing as if he was tasting something sour, watching the other behave as he was, but at the exaggerated, arrogant huff that Kung Lao offers, Jin takes a breath and starts over. "... I was hoping I could train with you, even if just once." That halts the smugness in the other's posture, for a brief moment, and it gives Jin the mental fortitude to keep going. "It would be a great honor, Uncle Lao. Both as a follower of the White Lotus, and as your kin."

Even the constant, mad whisperings that muffled every thought in the Netherrealm seemingly quieted in that moment, and all that Kung Jin could hear was his own hesitant heartbeat -- but his face stayed honest and determined. If this one request failed, then he would have to leave, and try to think of another approach.

The question that surged, then, was would he ever get another chance to speak to Kung Lao?

"... You're actually serious, aren't you? I know everyone in this bloodline is stubborn, but this is a whole new level." Lao then takes the liberty to approach his nephew, circle him with a fighter's apprehension, and Jin does his best to not twitch. "Who goes to the Netherrealm for a spar? Willingly? Alone? Does anyone else know you're here? Would anyone miss you, if I killed you here?"

"When you put it that way, it does sound like a bad idea, huh. Who would've known?" Jin thinks of testing how far he can stretch his snarky attitude, but ultimately drops it when Lao comes to a full stop in front of him, still silent, and anxiety spurs him to keep talking. "Look, several bad choices have led me to this moment, Kung Lao, but I don't regret a single one of them. I am here under my own volition. If anyone else knew I was doing this, well… it wouldn't be the first time they'd berate me."

Bitterness sneaks into his tone, and Jin clenches his fists. He knows they mean well, but he can't deny that he only acts out as he does because no one trusts him to begin with. You'd think talking down the Emperor of Outworld would show you were more than a hot-headed punk, and yet --

"Now you're just trying to make me feel bad. Have to say, that's a new approach."

Jin huffs, rolling his eyes at the revenant. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I'm just saying. I came here alone because I respect you, and I wanted to see if there was any chance you could train me. If you're not interested, I can leave you alone."

"Who said I wasn't interested?" The hard poke to Jin's chest, forcing him to stumble half a step back as the meaning of that reply hit him. He was hoping for it, yes, but admittedly he didn't think he'd be actually hearing it. "If you actually respected me, you'd stop assuming things on my part."

"... Sorry, didn't mean to imply anything either way. Does that mean --"

"It's not like I have anything better to do, being stuck in Hell and all." The voice means to be scathing, Jin is sure, but he can hear genuine entertainment ring through it, a small sense of pride at being sought out. And Jin could understand why. While he himself was stuck in Kung Lao's shadow in life, he could hardly imagine what it would be like to be stuck in Liu Kang's shadow even in death.

"Thank you, Uncle Lao. You won't regret this."

"Oh, I know. You might, however."

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,727 Words

Summary: Touya’s first class in 1-A is a bit more complicated than anyone thought it would be.

Warnings: Food Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Cursing, Anxiety Attack Mention, Death Mention, Burn Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Yes, I made Touya, Natsuo, and Fuyumi triplets. No, I won’t apologize.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 2

In the morning, Kirishima lent him a uniform and he got breakfast with him and his friends, Bakugou, Sero, Kaminari, and Ashido. Breakfast was fun, he got to have whatever he wanted so he got to eat curry. He'd never been given options at home. He wondered if the lock was still on the fridge at home and how Shoto was doing with it.

When he followed the group to class like he assumed Aizawa wanted, he and his group had gotten there before everyone but a blue haired boy.

"Your hair looks good, Bakugou." Aizawa greeted the loud boy.

"Thanks, Kirishima did it pretty good. I look more like my dad finally." Katsuki grinned slyly as he sat with his feet on his desk.

"Alright, Touya. Your chair is next to Hagakure, the only chair by itself." Aizawa told him.

"I wasn't aware we were getting a transfer, Mr. Aizawa!" The blue boy exclaimed.

"We're not, Iida. I've personally taken Touya temporarily into the hero course for his own protection until we can find him a suitable housing arrangement." Aizawa told him.

"So he will not be here permanently?" Iida asked.

"As far as I'm aware, it's not permanent." Aizawa told him.

"I wonder how Todoroki will react." Mina smiled.

"How I'll react to what?" Touya asked her.

"No, your brother. You know, Shoto?" Mina reminded him.

"But what will he react to he's just-" The door opened and a guy with green hair came in and headed right for Iida but the brunette girl talking to the kid with split hair stopped his sentence. "What the...?" And that was the conversations downfall. "What the fuck prank are you pulling? What the fuck is this, Aizawa? Is this some kind of joke!?" He demanded.

"What's wrong, kid?" Aizawa asked.

"Why does he look like that!? Why is he so old!?" Touya was shaking, he knew he was shaking. What was happening? Why did Shoto look his age?

"What do you mean, Touya?" Aizawa asked and Shoto's eyes got wide.

"Touya?" Shoto asked.

"Why are you so old!?" He insisted.

"Mr. Aizawa, if this is Touya, he's supposed to be either 21 or dead." Touya felt his breath shorten. Dead? He was supposed to be dead?

"Shoto, how old are you?" Touya asked suddenly.

"I'm 16." Touya felt the world crash. Shoto was sixteen? He was supposed to be eleven.

"This isn't real. This is a nightmare and I need to wake up." Touya muttered.

"Touya, what's happening?" Aizawa asked.

"He can't be sixteen! He's supposed to be eleven! This isn't real! This can't be real!" Everything felt too much. Everything was too much. He didn't know how but he ended up on the ground, back against a wall, with Aizawa holding his arms. He knew he was crying but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"It's okay, kid. Breathe slow. Everything's fine, I promise." Aizawa calmed him.

"What's happening? What happened to me!?" Touya choked out.

"I don't know but everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it." Aizawa promised.

"Mr. Aizawa, what's wrong with Touya?" Iida asked.

"He had an anxiety attack. Do you feel okay now, Touya?" Aizawa asked Touya. He slowly nodded and took some deeper breaths.

"I'm sorry, I worried you all. I shouldn't have-" Touya began.

"Don't apologize, it happens to the best of us." He assured him. "You seem to have been deaged five years."

"I lost five whole years?" Touya asked softly.

"It seems like it." Aizawa told him softly.

"What's gonna happen to me now?" He asked breath fast and shallow again, slowly realizing he would probably be put under his father's custody.

"Well, you'll stay here and I'll try to figure out if this is permanent or not. If it's temporary, I'll help you readjust when you grow up. If it's permanent, you'll stay here in UA and graduate with your brother and I'll take your custody to ensure your safety. Regardless, you'll get your final two years of schooling even if you age back up, since you didn't graduate in the first place." Aizawa assured.

Touya immediately tackled his teacher in a hug. He was scared, devolving into another anxiety attack at the overwhelming emotions. He needed someone close, something Aizawa reciprocated easily. He felt other arms soon and looked to find Shoto hugging him. His lungs loosened slightly at the comfort that nearly identical body against his brought.

"Sho?" He asked in confusion. Shoto was never allowed near him before, so why was he so close willingly?

"Deep breaths, you'll be okay." Shoto assured him. "At least we can pretend we're twins if this is permanent." He let out a watery laugh. Him and Shoto, twins? He never thought he'd see the day him and Shoto spoke without their father around, hovering, training.

"Joint birthday or separate?" He laughed out.

"Whichever you want. Maybe we can convince Dad you were a cover up by the nurses." Shoto, always the mastermind of a scheme.

"He'd believe that, the thick bastard." He smiled, wiping his eyes and totally smudging the eyeliner Mina had insisted on painting on his face.

"Mina, our emotional support emo messed up his makeup!" Bakugou complained.

"Gosh dang it, Touya!" Mina whined but Touya just smiled at his new friends and his newly appointed 'twin' brother.

He was okay, everything would be fine. Between Shoto and Aizawa, everything would be alright. Shoto and Aizawa got him up and Mina forcefully fixed his makeup for him whilst everyone slowly filtered in.

"Where's Hagakure?" Aizawa demanded.

"She's having issues with her insulin levels this morning and Recovery Girl insists that she stay in her office to be monitored." The raven girl in the back told him.

"Thank you, Yaoyorozu. Someone will need to fill Hagakure in when they see her next because we have a special announcement today." Aizawa began. Touya had been told to not speak until the end. Not hard given he was a bit overwhelmed and talking didn't quite come naturally to him anyway.

"As you can see, we have a new student with us. Some of you already know these circumstances and the situation surrounding the decision to allow him here today. I expect you to treat him like any other classmate you'd have here in UA." He threateningly lowered his voice, garnering nods from his student body.

"The new student is in limbo of becoming a permanent student due to his situation. He was hit with a quirk that deaged him five years, losing his memory and reverted him, either temporarily or permanently, to a sixteen year old once again." Some gasps from the room.

"I will be seeking his custody and he will be an honorary student come the end of today's school day, due to the limited knowledge of the quirk that hit him while he was older." Aizawa finished his speech. "Class, I'd like you to meet your new classmate, Todoroki Touya." He drawled tiredly and Touya had to wonder if he was actually physically tired or just emotionally tired.

"Hello Touya, we're very happy to have you here!" Announced Yaoyorozu.

"Thanks." He felt awkward with focus on him now.

"Todoroki? But we already..." The brunette girl began.

"He's my brother, yes." Shoto confirmed and everyone went about chattering about how similar they looked and how they seemed to have been meant to be twins what with Touya having cotton candy pink hair, a mix of Shoto's red and white. He always was the odd sibling out, he supposed.

"So now we have two of them!?" A girl he'd heard being referred to as 'Jirou' exclaimed.

"Yes. Sorry for any confusion that may occur around this due to our names being the same. If you'd like, you could likely refer to Touya by Himura, our mother's maiden name, or just begin calling us by our first names." Shoto told them as everyone looked to Touya for confirmation.

"Touya?" Yaoyorozu asked.

"It's fine by me." He quietly replied.

"Okay good, I'll call you Touya since you seem rather comfortable with the idea." She announced and he smiled.

"Thank you." He meekly hid in his chair. He wished for the focus to go elsewhere, like a lesson Aizawa was likely supposed to be teaching.

Eventually, Aizawa began to teach his lesson and Touya was asked to accompany them to Gym Gamma and to show them his quirk once they arrived so they knew what they were facing in later classes.

"I um...I don't know what it is anymore." Touya admitted.

"What? Anymore? What do you mean?" Aizawa asked.

"That guy, he thought my quirk was dangerous so he changed it. That's his quirk. He can change other's quirks. That's why I ran away, he changed my quirk to something else." Touya was quiet, afraid of his own new power.

"Well what was it?" The scruffy teacher asked.

"Strong fire. Like, really strong. Burn myself strong." Touya admitted.

"Well, whatever he gave you, try to use it. I can stop you if it gets out of control." Aizawa assured him.

Touya took a few deep breaths and tried to call his fire as he'd had it with whispy movements. No luck. Odd but expected. He tried something more rigid and geared toward Shoto's ice he'd seen once. Still no luck. He tried to call something more fluid like Natsuo's water. No luck. Minimal movements to change temperature like Fuyumi and still no luck.

Just when he was about to give up on hoping he still had the family quirks, he tried one more way, combining the rigidity of Shoto's ice with the whisp that was his own fire. And it was like a whirlwind of snow suddenly hit Gym Gamma and he gasped at the flakes falling on the brisk October day.

It was beautiful. He had a new quirk. No longer would his fire eat him up from the inside out, but this new quirk also had a beauty to it that truly combined their parent's quirks.

He looked up to find half the class playing in the snow of his own making, others smiling awaiting their training, and Shoto and Aizawa smiling proudly at him. He smiled and made some more snow at the demand of Kaminari desperately trying to make a snow angel on the ground.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust 

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#10: Felix, Part Two: The Episode Itself

Here’s Part 1

So, uh... here's the thing. I was going to divide this post into three parts, but I had to cancel the third part where I analyze the stuff involving Astruc defending the episode on Twitter, specifically a certain scene that really showed off some serious double standards in regards to the way Adrien is being written, because Astruc deleted most of his tweets regarding the episode. I wonder why he did that? I thought he wanted to expose himself publicly and interact in a peaceful way.

So yeah, instead of a big three-parter, this is going to be a two-parter, and I apologize for that. I might be able to do a third part if anyone has any screenshots of some of the tweets Astruc made after “Felix” aired. If you did, I would really appreciate it, but if not, it's fine.

Either way, let's just get this over with, because I have SO MUCH to talk about. My friend, can your heart stand the shocking facts about Season 3, Episode 23 of Miraculous Ladybug, “Felix”?

So we start off with what Gabriel does for half of his scenes when he isn't Hawkmoth, monologuing to his (possibly) dead wife, Emilie about how Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous will soon be his and all that crap. Sure, he's sent God knows how many Akumas after Ladybug and Cat Noir, and they've all failed miserably, but I'm positive he's getting close to his goal.

After he finishes cleaning his and Emilie's silver wedding rings that sadly don't allow them to transform into Ultraman Ace, Gabriel goes to check on Adrien, singing to a statue of Emilie (glad to see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree), intending to tell him that he is Hawkmoth.

Gabriel: There is something important I have to talk to you about. I think about telling you every day, but I don't know how to find the right words.

Adrien: I think I already know, father.

Gabriel: But, how?

Adrien: I've noticed how close you and Nathalie have become. If she can make you happy again, then... as far as I'm concerned, she's already part of our family.

Yeah, apparently it's obvious that Gabriel and Nathalie are close or something, with how casually Adrien assumes they're planning on starting a relationship. I mean, it's not like Nathalie is close to Gabriel because she's his secretary or something like that.

Gabriel's response isn't any better, as he immediately jumps down Adrien's throat for daring to assume he might try to move on from his wife.

Gabriel: How could you possibly think such a thing?! Nobody could ever replace your mother! As long as she is still in our hearts, she lives on!

Even Adrien's face shows he's a little taken back by his father's brief outburst.

Part of me likes to assume that Plagg is trying to not break out into laughter at how crazy Gabriel sounds, while Nooroo is mentally questioning the sanity of his master.

Plagg: Wow! Your father's like a piece of tomme cheese, where the rind's so thick it's almost impossible to get inside the center.

Adrien: Don't be so hard on him, Plagg. It's been a year today since Mom... went away forever.

Oh my God, just say she DIED already! Why are so many kids' shows afraid to say the D-word? How can I cite an episode of Caillou of all shows as something that that actually talked about death to it's audience in a nuanced way?

It turns out that Adrien's aunt is visiting for the day, as it's the one-year anniversary of Emilie's “going away forever”. We also learn that the gene pool in Adrien's family is so shallow, a toddler could swim in it, because Emilie's sister looks exactly like her.

Even better, her name is Amelie. I bet the parents thought naming their kids Emilie and Amelie was hilarious for like three minutes.

And of course, she also brought her son, the asshole of the hour.

Someone cue the Imperial March.

So Felix is finally here, and of course, he looks just like Adrien. It's almost like the animators didn't want to create any new character models for this episode, so they thought nobody would notice if they just reused a few. Seriously, towards the end of the episode, we see Felix wearing the Cat Miraculous on his hand, and none of the animators noticed it.

So while Adrien is happy to see his cousin, Felix isn't. I'll talk more about it in a minute.

Amelie mentions that the wedding rings are actually heirlooms in her side of the family, so she naturally wants them back. Of course, Gabriel, being Gabriel, responds accordingly.

Gabriel: These rings are obviously very special to me.

Amelie: And they're very dear to me too, Gabriel. Those jewels have always been in the Graham de Vanily family, not the Agreste's.

Gabriel: We'll discuss it later.

“Yeah, yeah, these rings are priceless family heirlooms or whatever, but why can't you think about how important they are to me?”

Meanwhile, Marinette and her friends are planning on recording some messages for Adrien to cheer him up on this day, but Marinette isn't sure what to say before she decides to confess her love to him. I'm sure Adrien will get the message and return Marinette's feelings this episode... and Cliff Hanger will finally escape that cliff he's been hanging from for years.

Speaking of, Adrien and Felix are hanging out in the former's room where we learn that Felix's father passed away recently. We don't know how long, but with the way they talk about, it's clear the funeral wasn't too long ago. Keep this in mind.

So while Adrien leaves the room to get a chess board for the two to play a game of, Felix, for no reason, decides to search through Adrien's things and crush a piece of cheese that Plagg had been aging for two weeks. And here is the interaction that helps this episode go from mediocre to aggravating, just because of what they imply here.

Adrien: Listen, Plagg. Felix lost his dad not so long ago, he's probably not himself.

Plagg: I'm sorry, but there's just no excuse! You never touch my cheese, and yet, you just lost your mother not so long ago, right?

Yes. The show is actually implying that Adrien is better than Felix because Adrien isn't acting out because his mom “went away forever”. Keep in mind, we know that Felix just lost his father, while Adrien has had a year to cope. I'm not saying he can't be sad anymore, as everyone processes grief differently, but you can't set up Felix as a foil to Adrien just because they both lost a parent, as their situations are entirely different.

Oh, and when Plagg's statement upsets Adrien, it isn't because he's angry at Plagg for making the comparison, it's because he mentions Emilie. And this argument is never brought up again.

I still can't believe this episode is basically saying that even if you lose a loved one, that's no excuse to get emotional. This isn't just a horrible lesson to teach children, but it pisses me off on a more personal level. Why?

My grandfather died last year after a long battle with lung cancer.

He had been in and out of the hospital for a few years at this point, and part of me was relieved that he was finally free of the pain. I tried not to let it bother me, as I had already mentally prepared myself for the day he would die whenever he was readmitted to the hospital. But it was still painful to go through because he was so important to me. Instead of simply telling someone how I was feeling, I threw myself into my schoolwork in an effort to distract myself from actually confronting my emotions. After seeing A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, a movie where the main character made peace with his father on his deathbed with some encouragement from Mr. Rogers, it made me think about how unhealthy it was to bottle up my emotions, so I started to open up more about how I was feeling. When I told my mom (who was his daughter) about why I was so conflicted regarding his death, she said it was completely understandable, as she had been an emotional wreck as well. I also talked with my therapist about how this was affecting me mentally.

What does this have to do with the episode? I don't think Felix had access to this kind of emotional support when his dad died, or that he tried coping the same way I did initially.

And the worst part is that this could have been used to teach people a lesson on how to cope with losing a loved one. Maybe Adrien could have helped Felix find a healthier coping mechanism, or simply help him open up emotionally, teaching him that it's okay to be upset when someone close to you dies, but that you just need to be honest about your feelings.

But no, rather than portray Felix's actions as a troubled youth lashing out because he's angry at the cards the world dealt him, Felix does several awful things this episode for no other reason than because he's evil, even though he has a good reason to hate Adrien and Gabriel.

So the very next scene, we see Felix has stolen Adrien's phone and is going through the messages that Adrien's friends sent him, but not before insulting his crush on Ladybug. I'm not sure if that's supposed to reflect the fandom's criticism of Adrien's crush on Ladybug, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Nino's Message: Hey, my dude! I'm not quite sure what to tell you, except that, you're my man, dude! And bros are always there for their guys!

Felix: (Mockingly) “Bros are always there--” blah, blah, blah! Moron.

Rose's Message: Unicorns have a saying: even when there's nothing but gray skies and rain, all it takes is one little sunbeam for a rainbow to appear!

Felix: Loser.

Max's Message: It's one hundred percent proven, you should feel fifty-two percent happier with a healthy dose of laughter. So Markov has uploaded a few jokes for you! Starting with--

Felix: Freak.

Chloe's Message: When my mother left for New York, I felt so sad. It felt like she was... (sighs) She came back, and I know how lucky I am. So, you can count on me, my Adrikins.

Felix: Chloe. Just as annoying as usual.

And that line right there is the only time Astruc actually liked writing Felix, as it gave him the chance to satisfy his need to insult Chloe.

And then when he sees Marinette's message, he deletes it because... hell if I know

Again, this scene could have worked if it was interpreted as Felix saying stuff that he wasn't dependent on others for support and that he could easily power through life on his own, but nope! Instead, he hates Adrien's friends and only deletes Marinette's message instead of all of them simply because he's evil, heart blacker than Don Cheadle.

Felix continues to show how awful he is by dressing up in Adrien's clothes and—Oh, son of a bitch, SERIOUSLY? This is the SEVENTH evil doppelganger plotline we've had in THREE SEASONS! You're telling me this isn't doing the same thing over and over again, Astruc?

Yeah, so Felix records some messages to send to his friends that, once again, could have worked if this episode was actually teaching a lesson about dealing with grief.

“Adrien's” Message:  First of all, thanks so much for all your messages, guys, really. Sending me messages on today of all days... (angrily) to remind me how sad I'm supposed to be feeling? Why, that's great! Really, Thanks a lot!

But because nobody ever considers how Felix is feeling, it's never acknowledged, because that would actually involve writing him with complexity.

Gabriel gets a message from Lila, who recently became one of his confidants to spy on Adrien, tells him about the fake message, and decides to use the negative emotions felt as an excuse to get rid of his in-laws. No, seriously.

Gabriel: All this disappointment might just help us get rid of our unwanted guests.

To be fair, I'd probably do the same thing just so I wouldn't have to talk to some of the people I hate at my job.

And so, Hawkmoth akumatizes Alya, Juleka, and Rose into the Punisher's Trio, who are basically just their previously akumatized forms Lady Wifi, Reflekta, and Princess Fragrance. Because why would you expect anyone to use an original character model for this episode?

All joking aside, this development raises several questions. First, why wasn't Nino one of the Punisher's akumatized? He's Adrien's best friend, so shouldn't be just as upset as everyone else? Hell, the whole reason he was akumatized into the Bubbler in Season 1 was just so he could throw Adrien a birthday party after Gabriel said no. Then there's the fact that Chloe could have also been akumatized because she's just as close as Adrien, which is another wasted opportunity here.

Second, why bring back Reflekta and Princess Fragrance of all villains? It doesn't even make sense when you consider their motifs are based off of the circumstances that led to them getting akumatized in their respective episodes. Juleka became Reflekta because of her anxiety over easily blending in, so she got the power to turn everyone into an exact copy of herself so they could understand the feeling. Rose became Princess Fragrance when Chloe destroyed her letter and perfume bottle dedicated to the prince of a foreign nation, so the perfume bottle was the basis of her powers. At least Lady Wifi makes sense as the akumatized object this episode is a tablet used to record the messages to Adrien, but Reflekta and Princess Fragrance have nothing to do with the plot of this episode, and just feel tacked on. If it was just Lady Wifi or the Bubbler, I'd get it, but this just doesn't work.

Third, what exactly is this show's obsession with Reflekta? We saw in Reflekta's first episode that her powers had a huge drawback as if either of the heroes is zapped by her, she can't get their Miraculous, like what we saw happened to Cat Noir. Yet, this is the second time this season that Hawkmoth had the bright idea to bring back Reflekta (even giving her a giant robot to amplify her powers). At least Lady Wifi and Princess Fragrance's powers worked together well (Lady Wifi could freeze someone in place, while Princess Fragrance can brainwash them with her perfume), but Reflekta just feels like the odd one out here.

Fourth, and most importantly, why did we only get to hear the line “At your service, Princess Fragrance!” A single time this episode?

So the Punishers head to Adrien's house to take their revenge, but see Felix, still dressed in Adrien's clothes, and are naturally confused. Adrien pretends to be Felix by running away while laughing evilly (so not too far off from how Astruc sees Felix), while the real Felix and Nathalie put up a good fight against the Punishers.

And then... here is the moment that shows just how skewed Astruc's view of Adrien really is.

Felix pretends to confess his love to Ladybug as Adrien, trying to force a kiss on him, making Ladybug punch him in the face by claiming that the real Adrien “would never be so pushy”.

BULL. SHIT.

Yes, Ladybug doesn't know that Adrien is actually Cat Noir, but it's clear that this scene is meant to solidify just how Felix is far worse than Adrien because according to Astruc, he would never do that.

But maybe I'm being too hard on him.

It's not like Adrien has ever forced himself onto Ladybug, right?

I mean, imagine if the show just ignored something like that.

All while trying to teach kids the importance of saying no when someone harasses them.

Can you imagine if someone was that oblivious to their own hypocrisy?

I'm not saying that the lesson is a bad one, but you can't call someone out for doing something bad, and then ignore one of your main characters doing the exact same thing!

Even in the context of the episode, the comparison doesn't work. We know that Felix is only doing this to make Adrien look bad, and has no romantic feelings towards Ladybug like Adrien does. Felix knows what he is doing is wrong, while Adrien doesn't. Whenever Cat Noir tries to kiss Ladybug, he is never aware that what he is doing is wrong, and while he is almost always stopped from kissing Ladybug for one reason or another.

Like when the episode tried to compare two different characters reacting to losing loved ones when there are different circumstances regarding them, the comparison DOESN'T WORK.

And to add insult to injury, Cat Noir shows up just to insult Felix by implying he doesn't have a lot of friends because of the way he acts, because why would he? After all, he's a complete loser that nobody would want to be friends with, and if you like him, you're an idiot for thinking so! At least, that's probably what Astruc was going for.

Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, leading to a brief Mexican standoff, until Felix steals the tablet containing the Akuma, making a deal with Hawkmoth that he'll help out the Punishers as long as he gets the wedding rings. Do you hate Felix yet? Come on, do you hate him? WHY WON'T YOU HATE HIM, GODDAMN IT!?

This whole bit is completely pointless as Ladybug immediately finds a way to stop all four of them and de-evilize the Akuma.

And when it looks like Felix is actually apologizing for his actions this episode, it's naturally a ruse he put on to steal one of the wedding rings from Gabriel to give to his mom. Because why would Astruc even think of portraying him sympathetically, or at least have him learn a lesson?

So Felix stares out the window with an evil look in his eye (possibly foreshadowing another appearance), as Gabriel takes Emilie's wedding ring to wear for himself, and the episode mercifully ends.

It also means that I never have to watch this episode ever again.

Do you understand why it took so long for me to fully analyze this episode? Hell, it would have taken longer if Astruc didn't delete his tweets defending the kiss scene and how Cat Noir is totally a gentlemen unlike Satan, I mean Felix.

What else do I have to say about this episode that hasn’t already been said? Well, I do have one thing.

I’m not that big a fan of Felix.

I think he’s an okay character in fanfics, but I’m more indifferent to him and fanfics that ship him and Marinette together. I don’t know, maybe that’s because there are so many Felinette fanfics that are heavily seasoned with salt, or it could just be because I’m complete Love Square and Lukanette trash.

But just think about the fact that the scathing criticism of this episode was delivered by someone who isn’t that into Felix. That is how bad this episode is.

In addition to being an obvious mouthpiece for Astruc to yell at fans why they’re idiots for actually liking Felix, it does so by touching on delicate subject and trying to act like it’s easy to tell how Felix is worse than Adrien when the circumstances are nothing alike.

But the fact that Astruc takes a popular character just to portray him as a complete menace just to antagonize his fans is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

[kookoosbunnynose]

Pairing -> Officer!Reader x BadBoy!Jungkook (ft. Reader x Yoongi)

Genre -> Angst | Smut | Fluff

Rating -> Mature (18+)

Word Count -> 14.5k

Playlist -> Looks Red, Tastes Blue

Warnings -> Major Character Death | Grief | Poor Coping Mechanisms | Mentions of Alcohol Abuse | Mentions of Smoking (tobacco) | Unrequited Love | Emotional Constipation | Explicit Sexual Content | Unprotected Sex (stay safe losers) | Oral (m/f receiving) | Dom/Sub Themes | Dirty Talk | Praise Kink | Sir Kink | He Spit in Ur Mouth | Brief Sex with Jimin | Should I Even Bother Putting Cursing?

Summary -> You meet an old friend under uncomfortable circumstances, he brings with him memories you’ve tried to forget for years. Your past becomes your future before you can catch your breath. 

Excerpt -> “But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.”

—————

“We have a 10-51 at The Red Eye on Main.” Your radio suddenly booms in your otherwise quiet vehicle, snapping you out of your trance-like state caused by watching a mostly empty intersection run through light cycles for the better part of an hour.

“10-4, I’m 76.” You answered, pausing briefly to assess your location in relation to the hole-in-the-wall bar. “10-77, three minutes.” You finish, setting down your mic and flipping your lights on.

When you first started this job, getting a call for a drunk and disorderly would send your heart into overdrive, cause your breathing to shallow and your hands to shake. Mind filling with possibilities of having to contain a violent man twice your size. But after learning the patterns of the locals in town, and learning your own capabilities, you barely batted an eye. You’d probably just have to give the crotchety town drunk a ride back home and scold him for making you do this for the upteenth time. No biggie.

You sped down the empty street with ease, you could drive this town with your eyes closed since you were fourteen. The street lights around you against the night sky making everything appear untouched and serene, only amplifying your obnoxious siren.

Three minutes, nearly on the dot, when you pull up to Red Eye, and much to your surprise you see a young man sitting on the curb with his forearms resting lazily on his knees waiting for your arrival. The less than impressed security guard stops glaring at him in favor of filling you in on what happened.

“Hi y/n.” the guard greets, making the man pick his head up to confirm his suspicions.

“Well, fancy seeing you on that side of the law.” He says making you take in a stiff breath at the familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in years.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.” you say with a steady breath, being very well versed in not appearing as shaken as you are. And you are. But you fight the way your throat wants to close because you’re wearing your badge, and you’re not here to dive nose first into your past. You’re here to take statements and do an assload of paperwork.

“The kid has been pretty cooperative,” the guard continues when you turn your attention back towards him. “didn’t put up a fight when I escorted him out. He’s had one too many drinks and threw a punch at a guy, who has decided not to press charges. But I got his information before he left to tend to his busted lip, if you need to contact him.” he informs, handing you a napkin with the bar’s logo and shaky ink etched into it.

“Thank you, I’ll take him off your hands.” you say glancing at the man in question, he’s still watching you with the kind of smirk only alcohol can provide. “I’ll take him to the station to sober up and get his story.” he nods, stepping back but staying close just in case.

“Are you gonna get in the car quietly or do I have to use these?” you question, holding your cuffs up with a hooked finger.

“Don’t make me any promises you won’t keep, sweetheart.” he winks lamely. You roll your eyes, and open the back door of your car.

“Get in Jeon, I won’t ask twice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, raising his hands in defense and standing to climb in your backseat.

You shut the door behind him and make your way around the vehicle, giving the guard a wave goodbye. If he had been anyone else making a remark like that would’ve landed them a pair of cuffs, but in all your years of knowing him, Jungkook has never given you a reason to feel unsafe with him.

He was pretty quiet on your drive back to the station allowing your mind to wander to the time you two last spoke.

That day the air was heavy and unforgiving on your lungs, that no matter how hard you tried never felt full. You were both dressed in black, heads hung low in mourning. Before you departed you gave each other a long hug, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s and sniffling together. Giving each other as much comfort as you could muster even though neither one of you believed it would be okay yourselves. The hug was meant to be one of condolence but shortly after you would come to learn that, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a goodbye as well.

You don’t know if it was because you were pulling up to the station or if it was because he could sense your thoughts but he decided to break the silence.

“The asshole had it coming.” He spoke bluntly, as you opened his door and walked him inside.

“What did he do that warranted a busted lip?” you asked, slightly exasperated but mostly curious.

“He was making a girl at the bar uncomfortable, she asked him to stop and he didn’t. I stepped in, he swung, I dodged, I clocked him in the mouth, and he fell down.” He recounted simply, almost bored. He hasn’t changed, still ready to throw a punch for anyone in need. Just like-

Your stern look softens. “Why didn’t you tell security he threw the first punch?”

“Would he have believed me? I’m sure I haven’t been gone long enough for half the town to forget my reputation.” He says sitting in the chair next to your desk and crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Those are new. Well, most of them.

“I suppose not, but at least I could have it on record that you tried.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he raises his brows.

“Yes, you did.” you relent, grabbing a breathalyzer from your drawer. “Blow.”

He takes the device from you and does as instructed, presumably choosing to keep some sexual comment to himself.

“A .05?” You blink. “I thought he said you drank too much.”

“Probably assumed since I decked a guy in a bar.” He shrugs.

“I suppose, but how annoying.” you say slightly bothered by the fact that he had to tell you everything, and security didn’t even bother to ask people who started it. He chuckles at you.

You start typing away on your report, his story, his blood alcohol level, etc.

“Do you wanna press charges? He did try to assault you.” you question, pausing your fingers.

“No, but I think that woman should.” you smile.

“Okay, I have all the info I need. You have two options.” you turn to him. “I can drive you home now, or I could get you some coffee and you wait here until you blow a .02 then I’ll take you back to your car.”

“I take option B.” he says, tapping the corner of your desk as if to lock in his answer. “I don’t want to have to go get it tomorrow.”

“I’ll go get your coffee.” you go to get the two of you some much needed liquid energy. Normally, you wouldn’t just leave someone who was brought in for assault without cuffing them to your desk or asking someone to watch them, but you know him, and normally people wouldn’t voluntarily choose to hang out in a police station for any longer than they needed to. Tonight is full of many things outside the norm.

As you sit back down back down with your drinks, Taehyung returns from patrol duty, and beelines for Seokjin’s desk.

“Tag you’re it.” he says, patting Jin’s back, making him flinch.

“Officer Kim, don’t sneak up on me.” He says puffing out his chest.

“My apologies, Officer Kim.” they laugh. 

You miss the way Tae looks over at you, and his smile drops when he sees who is at your desk.

You and Jungkook sip your coffee with a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting or needing to address his long absence yet, not while you’re filling out a report with his name on it.

A couple hours pass like this, with you doing various paperwork, and him scrolling on his phone or staring into space. Yep, definitely hasn’t changed.

“Alright Jeon, once more.” you say handing him the breathalyzer again.

He does.

.01, good.

“Let’s get you to your car.” you stand, and walk out into the crisp dawn air.

The ride back doesn’t leave your mind swimming as much as the first time. There’s still a sizable elephant in the room, but the tension isn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined it would be.

You pull your car next to his, allowing him to return home. “Thank you.” He half smiles, unsure if he should say ‘see ya later’ or not, but you had a feeling you would soon.   — You awoke later that same day, when the peachy light of the sunset was flowing through your windows. Your shift at the station usually ran from midnight to ten in the morning, meaning you usually slept through most of the day. Though you didn’t mind, you’ve always been a night owl, nothing a little vitamin D supplements can’t fix.

Groaning as you roll over in your mess of blankets to check your phone, you find exactly what you were expecting.

Jimin (7:48pm): In need of stress relief, Doll? ;)

You (8:13pm): God, yes. When you couldn’t meet up last week I thought I was gonna implode :(

Jimin (8:15pm): Aw, you missed me? Cute

You (8:16pm): Don’t flatter yourself Park. I missed your dick

Jimin (8:17pm): I’m hurt :(

You (8:19pm): I’ll be over in 40. Be ready, handsome ;)

Jimin (8:19pm): :)

You toss your phone on your bed and get up to take a shower, a little hop in your step at the prospect of receiving an orgasm by someone else’s hand. And Jimin always delivered.

You wash your hair quickly, more concerned about shaving your legs for the first time in two weeks. After you’ve dried off, you lotion and perfume like normal. You slip on a tank top and leggings, knowing that he is a big fan of your ass. You take your uniform with you as well so you can head straight to work after your weekly dick transaction.

When you’re making your short drive to Jimin’s you find your mind wandering to Jungkook. How your heart skipped a beat when you saw him sitting on that curb. How he’s lost all the baby fat he used to hold in his cheeks, but his eyes still crinkle when he smiles. How having him stand in front of you for the first time in five years confirmed your adolescence wasn’t in fact a pipe dream your mind had fabricated after you decided to change everything you could. How though he’s jaded and may not know it himself, he’s the same boy you’ve always known. And how he still reminded you of-

But now wasn’t time to dwell, you’ve done enough of that. Tonight is supposed to be about the exact opposite. Free of stress. Free of thoughts. Only a couple hours of animalistic need. Then you could go back to reality.

“Hello y/n.” Jimin greets with a smile after your knuckles rap against his door. “Do you wanna talk? Before we…”

“Not really.” you answer a little too fast, crossing the threshold of his apartment.

“Works for me.” he says, noticing that you’re seeking more of the benefits than the friends side of this deal.

Without another word his hands are on your hips and his lips are on your neck, walking you backwards until your back is flush with the door. Noticing that you’re not in the mood for as much foreplay as normal, he immediately grazes his teeth against that spot on your neck that makes you sigh into his ear.

He’s always been very good at reading you, perhaps that’s why you agreed to this little arrangement. You’re not sure exactly how the two of you ended up fucking in the first place. Definitely had something to do with your collective blood alcohol level at the time. But when all was said and done that first time he told you he’d be more than willing to make it a regular thing. To make your shoulders relax every so often and it’s not as if he didn’t get anything out of it. Neither of you were in the headspace for a relationship, so the easy access to orgasms, with no strings attached was ideal for all parties involved.

Not that you weren’t friends outside his bedroom as well. You guys would hangout pretty often just as friends. You were fortunate that the line between your regular dose of stress relief and the platonic love you had for one another never blurred. Jimin was special in that regard.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint quickly pulling it over his head. You do the same, and his hands eagerly cup your breasts. He reattaches his lips to the sweet spot on your neck biting down harder this time causing a small whine to fall from your lips. He smirks against your skin and runs his tongue along your reddened skin to sooth it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary you grab his hand and walk him to his bedroom. Once inside you put your hands on his chest and give him a firm push until his knees meet the edge of his mattress and he falls against it with a small bounce. When he falls back you remove your leggings and underwear, he does the same matching your urgency.

You climb over him planting your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your increasingly wet slit up his stiff length.

“You got hard pretty fast.” you say breath tickling his cheek and he slides his palms up your thighs to your ass, gently kneading the flesh in his hands.

“You said be ready.” he says smoothly, pushing his hips up to add to the friction on your clit. The extra contact catching you off guard making you place your hands on his shoulders for extra balance.

You feel his breath hitch beneath you when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide him to your entrance. You sit down a little slower than you want to due you being a little less wet than usual.

It was your doing, he would’ve been glad to work you up properly, but you were seeking a quick release. Caught somewhere between wanting to take your time so your escape will last longer and needing to reach the cloudy peak as quickly as possible, putting as much distance as you can between you and the thoughts that lay in the valley of your metaphorical mountain. Though it seems your body was choosing the latter for you.

You rock your hips against his, enjoying the way his cock drags against your g-spot, sending heat from your core to your toes. You pick up your pace a little allowing yourself to let go as much as you can, jaw going slack and eyes closing tightly. Jimin groans at the sight, reaching up to toy with your pert nipples.

A light layer of sweat forms over both of your bodies, heating the room like a makeshift furnace. A furnace made of hot skin and moans instead of fire.

You increase the speed of your hips on his until your thighs start to burn, the dull ache in your limbs only adding to the fiery one in your pelvis. Your pants grow louder as your end is nearly in sight.

“Jimin,” you gasp with a mouth like cotton. “I need more.”

Your request straight to the point, he moves his hands to your hips, rubbing your clit one thumb and using his other hand to keep you in place while he thrusts up to meet yours roughly.

“Umph- fuck!” your voice cracks as you fall onto his chest, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling to keep you grounded as your orgasm rips through you.

Jimin groans deeply in your ear, you can tell how your fists in his hair and your walls clenching around him brought him to his end by how desperate his thrusts became. You can feel his cock pulsing as he coats your core with his cum.

You both lay like that for a few moments, his softening dick still tucked safely within you and labored breaths creating a fog around your heads.

“Can I use your shower? I don’t wanna go to work smelling of sex.” you ask and he chuckles against your shoulder.

“By all means.”

“Thank you.” you say, for both the shower and the sex.

He grabs your hand when you go to stand from the damp fabric of his bed. “Are you alright?” he decides to pry for the first time tonight. “You haven’t been that down to business since that fight with your mom a few months ago.” he says, concern laced in his features.

“Yeah.” you begin unsure. “Just, something happened last night that brought up some memories.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he treads lightly, knowing what that statement could mean.

“I’ll be okay. You let me turn off my brain for a minute.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

“Happy to help. I’m here if you need anything.” he says with a stupid wink. Though you know he doesn’t just mean sex. Jimin has been a shoulder for you to cry on as long as you’ve known each other. You’ve always been there for him as well. A mutual understanding that you can come to each other for anything.

“I know, thank you Minie.” — You take a deep breath and run your hands through your hair, cursing the clock above the captain’s doorway that ticks just too loud for you to think. You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus on the text on your computer screen. You’re relieved when the phone on your desk starts to ring.

“Hello this is Officer l/n.” you say putting the phone to your ear, unfortunately excited about someone being in distress, but you’re about five minutes of screen time away from getting a migraine.

“Hello Miss l/n, this is Mrs. Choi,” here we go again. “I was wondering if you could send an officer to the house across the street? I think I saw some hoodlums trespassing.” and there it is.

“Of course Mrs. Choi,” you hold back a lengthy exhale. “I’ll go check it out, myself. Did you happen to see anything that could provide a description?”

“I’m afraid not dear, I only saw some trees rustling.” ah yes, the wind. Nature’s trespasser.

“Okay, I’ll take a look. Anything to help you sleep better at night, ma’am.” you smile as sweetly as you can despite her not being able to see you.

“Thank you Miss l/n.” she says promptly ending the call.

You let your breath out fully for the first time since the interaction began. And try your best to ignore how tense it makes you when she always calls you ‘Miss’ but calls all your male coworkers ‘Officer.’ You once put Jin in a choke-hold over a granola bar, you’re more than capable of holding your own, but that’s neither here nor there. Really.

“Mrs. Choi again?” Tae asks peering around the filing cabinet between your desks.

“The one and only.” you state. “She ordered the usual; someone to check the old abandoned house across from hers.”

“Well maybe if someone didn’t break into that place all the time in high school.” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And now I’m the one who has to get rid of them. The world goes round, balance is restored. Hooray.“ you say feigning awe, he chuckles.

“Hey, I know how you are about that old place, do you want me to check it out for you?” Tae asks his expression morphing into worry.

“I got it, I’m okay. I need to stretch my legs anyway. But thank you Tae, really.” for the first few months you were a cop, you couldn’t even take the patrol route the old house was on without crying. He was always really nice about taking care of it for you. Officer Kim, always ready to jump in at a sign of distress, perhaps why he’s so good at his job.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” you hum an affirmative as you exit the building.

Though the bubble of anxiety in your stomach grows as you approach the run down house, it doesn’t spill out as tears anymore. You’ve come to accept this is as healed as your wounds will get.

You unlock the chain on the gate and make your way to the front door, knocking harshly before opening it.

“Police! Come out now and I won’t tell your moms what you’ve been doing!” you shout into the empty house. You’re sure the house is empty because every time there has been a few teens in here you can hear them run before you can even shout ‘police!’ but, you still need to do a walk through just in case.

Your cautious steps make the floorboards creak below you, the smell alone flooding your mind with memories.

There’s a sliding glass door in the back, that’s long since been shattered, where you used to sit and get a perfect view of the stars for hours with your first, and thus far only, love. 

Your mind wanders to when you used to play music off your phones and slow dance in the living room, skillfully avoiding the gaps in the old wood floor. It’s truly a wonder this place hasn’t been torn down yet, but you’re thankful, you don’t know if you could bear to see it go.

As you make your way down the dark hallway you get a small craving for a cigarette, having quit years ago now, but you can almost feel the dry paper on your lips as you make your way to the last bedroom in the house. You pause at the door.

Your eyes scan until they reach the corner of the room, pausing at the small carving in the wall. Your breath catches for the briefest of seconds when step close to it, tracing the heart with your fingers, careful to not get any splinters. Your fingers continue their journey, tracing the initials at its center with care.

Y/I + YG

“Babe! Angel! C’mere!” Yoongi’s smile beamed, gums and all.

“What?! What did you need to interrupt my sandwich eating to show me?” you follow his voice slightly annoyed, though you wondered why he disappeared for a few minutes, leaving you to munch in solitude. You had met here for a picnic, not uncommon for the two of you during the summer. He brought a blanket and you brought the burgers. You set up the picnic in the living room, with summer sun’s rays spilling through the old cracked windows, it’s a lot more beautiful than sitting in the middle of an abandoned house sounds.

“Look!” he says gesturing to the freshly carved wood on the wall, tucking his trusty knife back in his pocket.

“God, you’re so lame.” you smile and walk over to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to admire his handy work.

“If I’m lame it’s your fault.” me chuckles running his hand through your hair. “I suppose, loving you makes me this way.” he hums jokingly.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you look up at him, admiring the way the sun makes his bleached hair glow.

“You know I do right?” his tone drops a bit and his eyes search yours. “I love you.”

“Of course I know.” he only tells you everyday, yet you never tire of hearing it. You study his face, the slope of his nose and the little mole right next to it. His pink petal lips, that despite his reputation, you don’t know how anyone could be weary of a man with such beautifully delicate features. And his dark eyes that lighten only when he looks at you.

His gums return. He tilts your chin up to gently connect your lips. He tastes of the chocolate milkshake he drank not long ago, and you hum against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

The memory shifts, to one five months later.

“I love you too, angel.” his chilled lips peck yours, as he starts to climb out your bedroom window. The winter air makes you shiver when a gust of wind blows against your skin, with only your pajamas to keep you warm. Sometimes you’d sneak him overnight but with the first day back to school being tomorrow, it was too risky. If your mom caught him here again she’d have some choice words for the two of you, but she is a heavy sleeper, so as long as he left at a decent hour, nothing to worry about.

He hops down, his boots packing the snow beneath them when he lands. His head now a bit below yours as you lean out your first story window.

“Text me when you get home!” you remind him as he starts the small trek back to his car.

“Always!” he whisper-shouts back before disappearing around the side of your house.

You gaze up at the moon and take in a deep breath, trying to decide if the frozen air is refreshing or sharp on your lungs. You don’t take the time to figure it out before your window is shut and the air in your room feels hot against your cheeks.

You curl up in bed, and decide to scroll your various socials until your eyes get heavy.

You blink to help your eyes focus on the text on your screen, and decide to call it a night. You flick your eyes over to check the time.

2:30 am? Yoongi left at 2:00 and still no text? He’s always really good about telling you he got home, though he has forgotten a few times, no one is perfect.

“I’ll wait til he texts, he probably stopped for gas.” you mumble to no one.

2:45 am. You decide to text him.

You (2:46am): Love, did you make it home alright?

You (3:15am): I’m sure you just fell asleep.

You hit send trying to convince the panic knotting your stomach.

“He’s forgotten before, why am I freaking out so much?” you mumble to yourself rubbing your eyes. “I’ll just call him.”

My Love missed your call (3:23am)

My Love missed your call (3:35am)

My Love missed your call (3:42am)

“It’s Yoongi, leave your message after the beep.”

“Hi, I know that you’re probably just sleeping, and you’re gonna tell me that you’re fine in the morning.” you push out a laugh trying not to cry. “But I just can’t shake this feeling, so please please call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.”

My Love missed your call (4:01am)

You sit there staring at your phone in your hands, for a few minutes watching the clock on your screen change. Still nothing.

“Alright, fuck it.” you huff and grab your boots, shoving your feet in them and throwing on your jacket. You grab your keys and get in your car, you dial his number again while you start the engine, the route to his house flashing through your mind.

The dial tone in your ear stops ringing. “Thank fuck Yoongi!” the tears you’ve been holding back start to spill in relief. “You scared the-”

“This is Officer Jung.” a deep voice rings in your ear and your blood runs cold.

“What’s going on? What happened?” you ask frantic, the panic in your lungs turning into fire, the air feeling too thick to swallow.

“Ma’am, Min Yoongi was involved in an incident.” he says attempting to make his voice resemble something close to comfort. “The snow caught his tire and hi-”

“Is he okay?” you try to yell but your throat is closing.

“His car was pulled into a ditch, he-.”

“Is he fucking okay?!” your voice cracks and so does the dam holding back your tears.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart skips in a way you didn’t know it could, your body instantly too weak to hold itself or anything else. Your phone falls to the floor and your body falls against your steering wheel. You think you’re screaming but who can be sure with the ringing in your ears echoing in your skull. Your vision is blurred and your cheeks are wet. You were shivering when you climbed in your car but your skin has gone numb.

You don’t know how long you were crying in your car but by the time you were able to collect yourself enough to walk back to your bed your phone had no charge, and the sun had begun to rise.

When you finally turned your phone back on, you were flooded with people asking if you were okay, most of them you didn’t even know. After scrolling through your list of unopened texts, you answered only the one from his little brother.

Gukkie (7:38am): You okay?

You (8:44am): No

Gukkie (8:45am): Yeah, me either.

Now the ache is dull and the memories are faded. The anger and hurt that used to filter them turns more rosy as time goes on. And as with most wounds, there are scars. Love runs deep and Min Yoongi was your deepest river and your deepest cut.

You finish tracing the divots in the wood and smile bittersweetly. You place a kiss on the tips of your first and second fingers, you touch them to his initials and take a deep breath.

You let that breath go slowly as you walk out of the house, careful not to step on any of the less stable floor panels. Your lungs finally empty when you reach the gate where you can not-so-metaphorically lock up your past. — “Did you really need to cuff me?” you hear a familiar voice huff from behind you.

“Yes I did.” Tae grunts, you turn to see him holding Jungkook by the elbow before he  plops him down in the seat next to his desk.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” he says somewhere between sarcasm and defeat. He attempts to shift into a comfortable position, his cuffs against the metal chair hitting your ears in a less than pleasant way.

Jungkook glances your way and gives you a small nod when you catch eyes, and you do your best to pretend you meant to be staring at him. Though you’re sure he’s probably just as tense as you are. Police stations aren’t exactly the best place for a reunion. Especially twice.

“Name.” Taehyung states in a business-like tone.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Date of birth.” September first, 1997.

“September first, 1997.”

“Address.” 5235 west- shit I’m eavesdropping.

You shift in your seat and refocus on what you were doing before they came in. You try to at least.

Seokjin returns from his patrol route, entering the room the same as he always does, as loud as possible. “Tag you’re it!” he says with a childlike smile as he pats Tae on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy.” he gestures to Jungkook and his computer screen.

“I can take care of the report for you.” you butt in before you can think about the fact that you’re speaking. Tae slides his chair to your desk to get out of the other’s ear shot. “Do you really wanna deal with him? I know you’re not a big fan.” you lower your voice.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He thinks for a second, looking over at the man in question and grimacing slightly. “You sure?”

“Of course, I took care of him last week.” you say matter of factly. “And years before that.” you add after a beat. He nods in agreement, and grabs his jacket. “Change in plans Guk,” he smiles at the nickname he hasn’t heard from you in a long time. “You’re with me, Officer Kim has other business he needs to attend to.”

“Oh does he?” Jungkook mutters under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. He gets up from Tae’s desk and shuffles over to yours, his shoulders releasing slightly.

Without saying anything you unlock his wrists and set the cuffs on your desk, he rubs his skin a little too dramatically and you smile when he sits back in the chair looking more relaxed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiles. You miss the way Tae scowls at your gesture as he walks out of the building.

You start filing out the basics without question, as you know all the answers. He sits there tracing the walls with his eyes, far less entertaining than last week having already memorized the lack luster wallpaper.

“Alright Guk, what happened this time?” you say after a couple minutes.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” he says widening his eyes clearly frustrated but not at you.

“It appears you did.” you say accusing him playfully.

“Seriously.” he relaxes a little. “I went to Red Eye again, I was minding my own business.” he points his finger at you in preemptive defense. “The same guy from last week-”

“The one whose face you busted?” you quip.

He stops, mouth slightly agape. “Yes, that one.”

“Continue.” you smirk and he glares at you slightly.

“I was sitting at the bar, he came up and started saying he could kick my ass for what I did. I told him to forget about it cause I wasn’t gonna fight him. He said I may look tough now but I’m still the same sixteen year old I was before everything. I got in his face, no fists mind you, and told him to fuck off. The security saw us yelling and told us we needed to leave, and I refused because I had done nothing wrong. He told me he would call the cops and the other guy left, but I sat my ass back down, cause The Man has never stopped me before. And bingo bango, Officer Pretty Boy cuffs me and I’m here.”

“You just can’t get rid of that rep of yours, can you?” you soften.

“I’m used to it, and it’s nothing I didn’t do to myself.” he shrugs. “Besides, I’d rather be feared than pitied.” his voice lowers, and your heart twinges.

“I don’t fear or pity you.” he smiles, not one of those smiles that’s big and all teeth, but one that’s small and warm. Jungkook had this way of saying everything he needed without speaking a word.

Silence falls over you while you finish writing the report. He didn’t do anything other than disturb the peace for a moment, no need for punishment harsher than a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” he rubs his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he questions, his brows furrow.

“It was a slap on the wrist.” you shrug. “You didn’t do anything that requires a fine or jail time, so you get a warning.”

“Aren’t you taking that a tad too literal?” he chuckles.

“I don’t think so.” you fight a smile. “I don’t wanna see you with flashing lights near you again unless you catch fire. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he playfully salutes, but he knows you’re serious.

“Would you like a ride back to your car?”

“I can walk, that’s not necessary.” he says standing up and waving you off.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the air will do me good.” his feet stutter. “Would you maybe want to get coffee on Wednesday? I didn’t imagine our reunion going quite like this.” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’d love that.” your eagerness to accept surprises you, and given the way he lights up, you surprise him too. — You mindlessly push the noodles you’ve been eating around on your plate letting the sound of other tables’ utensils clinking and your mother ramble on about her book club’s latest ventures buzz lowly in your head as you hum vague responses.

“… Jeon Jungkook moved back to town.” the mention of the name snaps you back into reality.

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, now at full attention.

“Have you heard he moved back to town?” she looks at you expectantly.

“I- um. I thought I saw him in the grocery store the other day, but I assumed I was seeing things.” you say keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“His mother is absolutely over the moon about it.” she says, wholly missing your lie as she was too excited at the prospect of telling you the latest gossip. Small town doesn’t leave one with much else to do.

“I’m sure she is.” you say and your chest can’t help but warm at the thought of Mrs. Jeon being so excited to see her son after he’s been gone for three years.

“She’s so happy he finally gave up on that god awful garage band.” she says, relief filling her face, and you roll your eyes. You had nearly forgotten he went to the city to make it big, you hadn’t ever doubted them, his voice alone was label worthy. “What were they called again? Red appendix?”

You blink. “Crimson Heart?” you offer her, knowing full well you’re correct.

“Ah right! That’s the one.” she says laughing at the, admittedly edgy, name. “I’m so glad he’s cleaning up his act, I expected better of him.” she adds, shaking her head. Your shoulders tense at her statement.

“Did you hear Jeon Jungkook got busted for spray painting the movie theater?” your mom questions as she leans on your door frame. Your face buried in some book you didn’t know the name of, as long as it had words in it. Mind numbing words.

“Um, no mom. I didn’t.” you mumble clearly uncomfortable with the subject. It was summer now, about six months since that night. The cold unforgiving weather that changed your world in an instant long since melted away, and as free as summer used to make you feel, it just feels hot and bitter against your skin.

“It just makes me sad, I expected better for him.” her voice solemn, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

You couldn’t muster a response that wasn’t yelling or trying to reason with her, which would get you nowhere.

“I never understood why you couldn’t have chosen the good brother.”

Your fingers clench around your book wrinkling the pages. She’d said that for years but sting you felt this time was far deeper.

“He was so studious and stayed out of trouble, but it looks like I was wrong.” she says, appearing more upset that her judgment was off, rather than the obvious issue at hand.

“Can we please not talk about them.” you plead softly, fighting your closing throat and watering eyes.

“Honey, I know you miss him, but look how much better you’re doing now! You’re reading for pleasure.” I’m reading so I can’t think. “You raised your GPA up almost a whole point before the year ended.” My test scores are the same, I just did my homework. “And I haven’t found cigarettes under your bed in months!” She seems most excited about that one. I’ll give her the smoking, they don’t fill my lungs the same way they used to. How can they when I can’t catch my breath?

Her attempt at comfort doing nothing but reminding you that you can’t be who you want to be anymore. You’d become someone who does any trivial task they can as not to spend too much time alone with their thoughts. Instead of someone who didn’t give a shit, did what they wanted to do, and most importantly had their love by their side. “Yeah, I guess not smoking anymore is good.”

“You know I always rooted for you two.” your mom says, her smile mischievous.

“I know, you always told me he was the ‘good brother’.” you try to conceal your eye roll at the same conversation you’ve had with her a million times.

“Before you and Yoongi got together, too.” she adds.

“What?” now this surprised you.

“His mom and I used to talk about how cute you’d be when you were all in elementary.” she remembers fondly.

You try to respond but you’re too shocked that her infatuation with Jungkook went past him being ‘so close yet so far.’

“Anywho, I just hope he can find the boy he used to be.” she hums.

You agree, but for largely different reasons. Your chest blooms at the thought of a smiling Jungkook.

“So do I, mom.” — Jimin (6:37pm): Hey Doll, in need of extra McLovin after lunch with The Wicked Witch of the West?

You (6:45pm): Actually, I feel okay Minie, but thank you

You (6:46pm): I’m doing better

Jimin (6:53pm): I’m proud of you, beautiful

You (7:04pm): Me too — When you walk into the coffee shop a few minutes before you were supposed to meet you’re surprised to see Jungkook already sitting at a small table by the wall of large windows with two cups of coffee placed in front of him.

“Hey Guk.” you sit down, shoulders relaxing.

“I got your old order, I hope that’s okay.” he smiles nervously.

“How the hell did you remember that?” you gasp, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’ve had a caffeine addiction since you were like fourteen, and you practically lived at my house.” he chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right.” you nod in agreement and take another sip, the drink making your taste buds dance.

“Listen,” Jungkook begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to apologize for the whole you arresting me twice thing.” he hesitates.

“Technically, I didn’t arrest you the second time.” you correct with a smile, trying to ease his obvious guilt.

“Still.” his voice insistent, almost stern. “That isn’t exactly how I wanted us to meet again after five years. It didn’t feel right to not fix it.” his face seeking the approval that his apology did, in fact, fix it.

“There was nothing to fix really, Guk. But thank you.” you soften. “I don’t think of you any different. How could I, given my past?” he chuckles at that. “And you got the shit end of the stick in both situations. I still know you’d never do anything truly bad, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can bite?” he tongues the inside of his cheek smugly.

“Would you shut up?” his face shifts immediately, his eyes crinkling. “I’m serious.” you groan, but the heat threatening your cheeks and ears contradicts you. Well, that’s odd. Anyway.

“Okay.” he says after a beat. “C’mon y/n, I know you’re dying to know why I came back. Just ask.” he states, less than smoothly steering the conversation.

“Why would I wonder about you inexplicably reappearing after three years of nearly zero contact with anyone? It hasn’t crossed my mind at all.” your mouth laced with sarcasm.

“You think you’re so funny.” he squints. “I am.” you wave him off. “Alright, spill Rockstar, since you want to so bad. Why’d you give up living it up in the city to come back to all this?”

“Actually.” he laughs. “They kicked me out of the band like two years ago.”

You blink. “What? Why would they kick out their only talent?” you say screwing your brow in offense.

He nearly chokes on his coffee. He sputters trying to catch his breath, wiping his mouth on this arm. “Thank you.” he clears his throat. “But they were definitely better off without me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I wasn’t in the best place when the guys and I moved over there, for obvious reasons.” you nod. “I was getting black out drunk every other night. And writing songs that were just, not good. The kind of sad that isn’t relatable anymore, it was just painful and would make the crowds go silent.”

You grab his hand wishing you could’ve been there when he really needed it, but now will have to do. He smiles.

“The last straw though, was one night I got absurdly drunk right before a gig, and I thought I could handle it because I had been tipsy on stage before. They told me not to but I didn’t listen, and when I got to the song that I wrote about Yoongi, I just broke down sobbing on stage. I was embarrassed so I just fucked off out of the venue and kept running until I didn’t recognize where I was anymore.”

“Guk, I’m so sorry.” you squeeze his hand, and he rubs his inked thumb over you knuckles to tell you not to worry.

“No it’s okay, the guys found me the next morning, passed out in a Denny’s.” he chuckles stiffly. “They brought me home and told me that I needed to get help, they didn’t want to watch me self-destruct anymore, and at the time I was hurt but I’m grateful. It still took me a fucking while to work up the courage to come home, but if I didn’t have anyone tell me to try, I don’t think I’d be home now.” his expression turned from bitter to sweet as he recounted his story.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” he smiles, the stars in his eyes multiplying when he looks at you. “My dumbass fifteen year old self thought if I went dark side I could fill the hole he left, but I didn’t know what dark side really looked like until it was too late. Then it just became something I told myself so I didn’t have to face the fact that I was doing shitty shit.”

“You sound like you’ve taken a lot of time to reflect.” you say impressed.

“Limiting your alcohol intake to a normal human level will do that to you.” he chuckles.

“My dumbass sixteen year old self wasn’t much better, arguably worse.” you counter. “I thought if I got rid of everything in my life that reminded me of him, I could force myself to forget.” your face falls slightly. “Which is worse? Diving in head first or turning your back entirely?” you push out a sound that’s supposed to be laugh.

“I think both are pretty fucking miserable.” you both laugh, he gives you reassuring look. “But, tragic backstory aside. I wanted to come home to face the music and make amends with my mom.”

“My mom told me she’s very happy you’re home.” you can’t help but feel her relief.

“Yeah, I really put her through hell.” his guilt present in his expression.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he relaxes, his gaze fixed on yours for a moment. There’s those stars again.

He blinks, snapping his attention to his coffee. “I’m gonna get a refill” he says, disconnecting your hands, that you had forgotten you were holding, to tap his empty cup on the table. “Do you want another?”

“Yes please.” you say turning to rummage in your bag for a few dollars to give him, but when you turn around he’s already in line. You deflate setting the cash in front of you.

Your eyes wander around the cafe, inspecting the comforting eclectic vibe it produced. Your gaze stops on Jungkook standing in line, studying how his features have changed, how he has grown a few inches, his shoulders have broadened and how you can see the way his bicep flexes ever so slightly when he takes the coffee from the barista. What the fuck? Did I just check him out?

You inhale sharply, turning your focus on anything happening on the street outside the window.

When he’s seated back in front of you, you slide the small bills in his direction. He promptly slides them back towards you and you glare at him.

“When did you get so hell-bent on being nice?” he smiles.

You scrunch your brows and drop your jaw. “What do you mean? I’ve always been nice?” you question in defense and he laughs.

“You used to make fun of me all the time.” he states, crossing his arms.

“I mean yeah, but like in a sibling banter type way.” you frown. “Did you really think I was trying to bully you?”

“No!” he reassures. “I mean it kinda sucked because…” he trails off and takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to abandon his sentence.

“Because?” You’re not getting away that easy.

“You know it’s funny.” he breathes. “I used to have a huge crush on you.” he admits nervously.

“And?” you blink.

“And?” he echos. “No reaction? Not even a slight inhale?”

“I knew, Gukkie.” you break as softly as you can.

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. “You did?” his furrows his brows in offense.

“We both did.” you laugh lightly. “Why do you think Yoongi left an obnoxious amount of hickies on my neck?” you can’t help but cringe a little at the memory.

“That asshole!” Jungkook’s jaw drops, and you snort. “I just thought you were normal slutty teenagers.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.” you add trying to contain your laughter at the attention his outburst brought you.

He throws you an accusatory squint. “You guys suck.” — “You didn’t need to walk me back to work.” you beam at Jungkook as you walk through the doors of the station. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t.” he defends. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” you laugh.

“What did he do this time?” Taehyung chimes in loudly from his desk.

You turn to face him. “Nothing, we just got coffee and caught up.”

His expression remains bitter and unconvinced. You opt for brushing him off.

“Thank you, Gukkie.” you smile when you turn back to Jungkook.

“No, you.” he says, patting your hair affectionately before he exits.

You stand at your desk, shifting various papers to pick up where you left off when you see Taehyung approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck, y/n?” he asks angrily, and you widen your eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Listen, I get it.” he ignores you. “You let him off easy a couple times because you have history together or whatever. But now you’re going on a date with him?” he accuses.

“Tae, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he scoffs, and your jaw tenses. “I would never slack on my job. And that most definitely was not a date.” your words sharp, hoping you’ll get him to drop whatever bullshit this is.

“Then why would you let him go both times?” he crosses his arms waiting impatiently for a response.

“I didn’t ‘let him go,’ because we had no reason to keep him. It’s not illegal to defend yourself or to be a bit of a stubborn ass.” you defend, raising your voice. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure okay.” Tae says, clearly annoyed averting his gaze from you.

“I trust him, and you should trust me Taehyung. Why are you being like this?” your voice falling slightly. “Because, I care about you, and the kid is bad news. Do you not remember all that shit he pulled at the end of high school before he took off for several years? He can just show up and everything is heart eyes and open arms?” he says trying to convince you but all it does is make your blood boil.

“I appreciate your concern,” you bite. “But you don’t know him.” He shakes his head letting out a stiff laugh. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to read him, you always did know how to pick ‘em.” “What the fuck, is that supposed to mean?” you say all but seeing red, trying but failing not to yell.

He tongues his cheek and turns to walk back to his desk, very much done with the subject, but you were far from it.

“No!” you say following him. “You can’t just say that and then walk away. Explain yourself.” “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out here but it’s going to end right now.” Captain Kim Namjoon says sternly from his office doorway, arms crossed tight on his chest. “Our apologies, Sir.” you say, both of you bowing at him.

“Y/n, you look frazzled, go home and walk it off.” he offers pointing at the door. “Captain, we’ll drop it. I-” “It wasn’t a suggestion, Officer y/l.” he interrupts. “I expect you’ll be better tomorrow.” his voice a little softer now.

“Yes, Sir.” you bow again, and turn on your heals quickly, avoiding Tae entering your line of vision.

You white knuckle your steering wheel your whole drive home, you’re probably speeding but you can’t be bothered to check. What are you gonna do? Get pulled over?

When your car is parked, you fish your phone out of your pocket. You pull up Jungkook’s contact and your finger hovers over the call button for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to press it with him having been so happy when you two parted less than an hour ago. You opt for seeking comfort from someone else.

You (3:32pm): I need you

Jimin (3:35pm): I’m off in an hour <3 — Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you stare at Jimin’s ceiling, waiting for the normal relief that settles after you two have sex.

But even after you’ve caught your breath you still don’t feel it, the sweat covering your body starting to feel less like afterglow and more like guilt. Why won’t my chest unknot? We’ve hate-fucked countless times. What’s different?

You brush it off shaking your head in the hopes you can trick yourself into feeling normal, before you stand up to gather your clothes. You shudder at how sticky your skin feels against itself as you button up your shirt.

You decide some fresh air would do you good, and you open his bedroom window and take a breath and let the flowers outside fill your nose.

“You okay, beautiful?” Jimin’s voice sounds from behind you. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” you say before you can fully register what you’re saying. You turn to him, his towel hanging lowly on his hips and the hand tousling his damp hair stops in its tracks, his eyes widen. “Is the sex not good anymore? I thought you liked it when I bit your ass.” he chuckles through his worry. His joke makes you soften a little. “No, it’s not anything you did.” you say walking over to hold his hands. “Remember how I said I was doing better?” he nods, his worry fades into a smile. “Turns out that’s more true than I thought it was.” you say and as the words leave your mouth, your body finds that relief it was looking for. Feeling like, for the first time in forever you don’t need to escape your own mind for a minute to function. “Is there a guy?” he quirks a mischievous brow. “Are you ready to be monogamous?” he gasps dramatically. You shove his shoulder while he giggles. “No guy, I just…” you think for a moment. “Don’t need to forget anymore.” you breathe, lungs feeling lighter, and he smiles brightly.

He hugs you tightly. “I really am proud of you, y/n.” he says into your hair. You smile against his shoulder. “Me too.”

You break the hug and he frowns slightly. “Guess it’s you and me for a while now bud.” he says looking at his palm.

“Jimin, I just had an emotional epiphany, and it only took you two seconds to be gross again?” “That’s why you love me.” he laughs trying to give you another hug. You laugh, pushing him by the shoulders. “Fuck off, Park.” — The sun hits your skin warming it despite the cool breeze, music playing your ears as your feet keep a steady rhythm against the pavement below you. Your late morning jog becoming more of a nature walk with the changing seasons. The greenery returning and the sweet smell it provides makes your limbs feel a bit lighter. You nearly throw a punch when someone starts jogging next to you. You stumble slightly after you nearly run into a sign. When you pull your ear buds out he’s laughing at you.

“Careful there.” Jungkook laughs, continuing to match your pace. “You scared the fuck out of me.” you huff steadying yourself. “What are you doing?” “Um-” He looks at you and then his feet. “Jogging?”

“Astute observation,” you smile in spite of yourself. “I mean why are you following me, creep?” you laugh. “I was jogging on the other side of the street and when I saw you I thought I’d join.” he shrugs. “I guess that’s allowed.” Neither of you talks for a few minutes, nothing but your shoes fitting the sidewalk and your heavy breaths filling your ears.

Normally with a silence like this your mind would shuffle through the files of your mind, bringing a similar memory to the forefront, good or bad. But you come up blank. You inhale deeply deciding to file this under ‘Something New.’

“Are you getting tired?” He asks. “No?”

“Good.” he smiles and tries to wink before he picks up his pace, pulling ahead of you. “A race? What are you, twelve?” you laugh running faster.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over me winning!” he calls over his shoulder, and you groan at the considerable distance he’s put between you.

“You’re an asshole!” you pick up your speed fully running ahead of him.

You laugh and chase each other halfway across town, if you could see how you look you would probably be embarrassed, but you can’t be bothered to think about anything but the wind hitting your face and the idiot you’re running with.

He stops in front of a small market, and contrary to how you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs feel fuller than they have in years.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” he questions, eyeing the banner in the store window.

“Won’t that negate all the exercise we just did?” you breathe, wiping sweat off your forehead. “And?” “You make a strong argument.” you say pushing the door to the corner store open and sighing when the air condition hits you like a refreshing wall. You walk straight to the large freezer to pick out your respective flavors.

You wordlessly decide to walk home in favor of more running, talking about nothing between bites of your cold treats, and you can’t help but think the flowers smell a little sweeter. — You have more work to catch up on than you normally do, you opt for having lunch at your desk so you can work through your break. You have your lunch to your side as your fingers click away on your keyboard.

Something being placed gently on your desk draws your attention away from your screen. You look over too a coffee cup with ‘I’m sorry’ written on it and with a sheepish looking Tae with his hand still wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” he says looking guilty. “Tae-”

“I acted like a complete ass the other day.” he interrupts before you can even fully think of a response. “Well I won’t argue with that.” you soften and he looks the slightest bit relieved. “I just care about you, and I don’t trust him.” he reiterates his statement from a few days prior.

“This apology was going so well.” you half laugh.

“But!” he adds quickly. “But, I trust you. And if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” he says with large eyes, nudging the coffee toward you in the hopes you’ll accept his regret. “Thank you, Tae.” you say taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, appreciating his sincerity. Truth be told, you had already begun to forgive him, he just wants you to be happy. If he expresses his concerns in a less assholistic way next time, you’d be happy to listen. “And I won’t stand in your way if you want to date him.” he smiles. “Like you could, I can kick your ass Kim.” you laugh. “And what is it with you and us dating? I promise you, it’s not like that.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who has no reason to be.” he eyes you with a stupid smirk.

“I just forgave you, don’t push it.” you point a finger and he raises his hands in defense though he doesn’t drop the taunting smirk on his face. He walks backwards to his desk and sits in his chair giving you a nod as one last confirmation that you’ve forgiven him. You continue your work, the air feeling light in the station for the first time since your fight. So focused on your pile of tasks you don’t even notice it’s dark out until the phone rings and makes you look up from your computer.

“Hello, this is Officer y/l.”

“Hello dear, this is Mrs. Choi.” she says sweetly. It’s like clockwork with this fucking lady. “Could you possibly send an officer to this side of town? I saw a young man in a black hoodie hop the fence to the old place.” Well that is far more description than usual.

“Of course, I’ll go make sure everything is okay.” you reassure.

“It’s appreciated as always, Miss y/n.” she says before she hangs up.

“Mrs. Choi?” Tae asks lazily, not even lifting his eyes from his computer.

“Yep.” you say tossing your jacket on.

“Do you want me to check on it?” now he’s looking at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” you smile. More than fine this time.

Your drive to the old house feels way more like a normal patrol than it ever has, the air feeling like a fog has been cleared. Or perhaps you’re just getting a little too used to Mrs. Choi’s usual request.

You walk down the familiar dirt driveway and your eyebrows furrow when you see a light in the window. Incredible, the old woman who cried wolf is actually right.

“Police!” you shout before you turn the doorknob, your guard not too high as you’re expecting a harmless teenager. Though you’re surprised when you find Jungkook sitting against the wall at the edge of the tattered living room, his legs bent with his forearms resting on them and a bottle of whiskey by his hip. “I’m not here to damage any property.” he says calmly, raising his hands above his head in a lazy surrender. “What are you doing here?” you ask and point your flashlight at the ceiling to better light the space, the light on his phone not doing very much by itself.

“It was something of a quiet place for me. I guess old habits die hard.” he said patting the dusty wall he’s leaning against.

“It was for me too.” you breathe, you look around the room taking in how it’s become even more run down and not quite as beautiful as you remember but breathtaking even without the fantastical dream cloud your memories have become muddled with. “Did he bring you here too?” he looks at you through his messy hair, much more practiced than you at bringing Yoongi up in conversation.

“Yeah he did.” you smile fondly. “We used to have picnics here all the time during the summer.”

“Sounds romantic.” he says, with a comedic scoff.

“Hey, for a sixteen year old? Peak romance.” you retort and he chuckles, letting his head fall against the wall. “He never told me he brought you here too.” you furrow your brows. “Makes sense though, it was his favorite place.” “Yeah, he brought me here a few times when he could ‘remove the stick from my ass.’” he laughs at the memory. “I never understood, there’s about three inches of dust on everything and all the windows are cracked.” he shakes his head. “But after he was gone, it was the most peaceful place I could find. There’s no place as serene as these four shitty walls.” he smiles looking up at you. “It was far less peaceful for me after the accident. The silence coming from this place was deafening for a long time.” you take a seat next to him. “But it’s not so bad anymore.” you hum, eyes scanning the room. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes letting the sound of the crickets fill your ears, doing your best to not disrupt the stillness around you.

“I want to thank you.” your mouth making the decisions for you once again. “I missed you a lot and spending time with you has been really nice. I’ve been able to face things again that I didn’t think I ever would.” you steady your breath. “So, thank you.”

“I should thank you too.” he begins, and you turn to watch the way his profile moves when he speaks. “I can’t recall a time I smiled when thinking of him. It feels nice to reminisce, not just remember and wish he was still here.”

“God, he wouldn’t recognize either of us.” you say looking down at your uniform and Jungkook’s dirtied jeans.

“He’d kick both our asses.” you laugh.

“You know for a long time,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was upset because I lost the boy I was in love with.” he shifts a bit. “But somewhere along the way, it became less about being in love and more that someone I cared for so deeply was gone. I don’t know when or where I fell out of love, but it took me a long time to realize that I had.” “I don’t think falling in or out of love can be pinned to a single moment. You just kinda have to take a step back every so often to assess how fucked you currently are.” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. “How vulgar yet profound.” you smile and lace your fingers together. Your mind is running at a dull roar. You had never actually said you weren’t in love with Yoongi out loud before, not even to yourself. You suppose on some level you’ve known for years but saying it made you aware of just how true it was, like you’d been standing on a diving board for ages and finally took the leap that wasn’t so scary after all. You’d still give your left arm to have him there with you now, whether you were still just as in love or maybe just a friend. You still loved him but maybe… I’m not in love anymore. Before you have a chance to explore that thought further you feel Jungkook’s lips on yours, you gasp slightly and move your mouth with his, humming at how soft his lips are.

Despite your realization, when you close your eyes you’re overwhelmed with how familiar this feels. The stale smell of the wood around you and images of Yoongi kissing you right where you’re sitting flashing through your mind. Suddenly your heart is beating in your ears and just as quickly as it began you break the kiss.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry.” he says when his eyes meet yours again. “No don’t be, it’s okay.” you say, trying but failing to keep your voice steady as you stand. He gets up to follow you but his feet seem to be stuck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” you force a smile. “I should get back to work, I’ll see you Guk.” You say trying to ignore how your throat wants to close. He doesn’t answer, just watches as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the empty house. The sense of serenity he found within these walls fades as the light of your flashlight gets further away.

You pull out of the driveway, and remember why you were here in the first place when you see Mrs. Choi’s house across the street. You decide to say fuck it and drive back to the station and hope that she just went to bed. — You (2:30am): Sorry I left. I just need to think

Jungkook (2:37am): No I’m sorry, take your time

You read the same two texts over for what has to be the three hundredth time in the last few days. For a long time you stared at it unsure if you should respond, and then too much time had passed.

Not even texting could be simple with Jungkook.

But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.

Just like the texts you play the kiss in your mind on a loop, your lips tingling at the memory. The old house under your feet and Jungkook’s arms around you crosses too many wires in your brain for anything to make sense.

All you know is… when he kissed your lips you felt like you could breathe again. — You’re sitting on your couch when you hear a frantic knocking at your door. You jump at the sound and check the time. 11:30? What the hell? Your training kicks in and you approach your door and open it slowly.

“Okay listen, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jungkook rambles frantically pushing past you beginning to pace around your living room. “It was fucked up to kiss you, but I just- your eyes looked so beautiful and- shit that’s not the point.” he runs a hand through his hair trying to collect his thoughts. “Guk, it’s okay. You don’t need to-”

“I know what I did was shitty but we haven’t talked in days, and I can’t bear to not have you in my life again.” he’s on the verge of yelling at this point. “This time since I’ve been home with you is the most alive I’ve felt since I was fucking fifteen.”

“I’m not upset with y-”

“I know, I wouldn’t forgive me either, but I needed to try and-”

“Oh for fucks sake.” you mumble as he continues to ramble. You take in a breath. “I wanted you to kiss me!”

“I-” he finally stops, nearly out of breath. “You what?” “I wanted you to kiss me, that’s what scared me.” you clarify now that he’s listening.

He just blinks unsure of what to say. He imagined this going far differently, something more along the mine of you slamming the door in his face, but you didn’t and his heart swells as he takes in your words. “I want it too.” you continue though you’re unsure where you’re going. “I love you, Jungkook, and I can’t get your stupid pretty smile out of my head and-”

“You love me?” the words falling from his mouth softly, and his gaze fixes on your face.

“Yes.” you breathe realizing what you just said. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m in love with my deceased brother’s ex.” he counters, laughing at how ridiculous your situation is, and your heart can’t help but race at his bittersweet words. “But you’re the first time I’ve felt home in forever.” he says, his eyes hiding behind messy bangs.

“Me too.” you admit, and the air in your lungs feels lighter. “I know he would want us to follow our hearts but… like this?” you ask sheepishly, maintaining the distance between you as if neither of you are allowed to cross the invisible threshold.

“I think that even if you guys got the opportunity to break up like two normal ass teenagers…”  he begins, his face full of concern but his eyes filled with the hope that you’ll agree. “He always wanted everyone he cared about to be happy, and fuck y/n, you make me so happy. You always have.” There’s those stars again.

“But I feel guilty.” your eyes threatening to water for the first time in a long time, and your lips tingle at the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours. “Me too.” he takes a step closer to you. “But we don’t have to. We can-” “No, you don’t understand.” you interrupt and he deflates. “I feel guilty because even though we’re talking about him… I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me again.” “Fuck, okay.” he says as if you had just stolen the air from his lungs. He quickly closes the gap between you and reconnects your lips. You put your arms around his neck and attempt to pull him as close as you can, his hands are warm on your jaw and the dream cloud in your mind feels as if it’s been wrapped around the two of you. A blanket of home that you didn’t know had been missing until you had it again.

You run your fingers through his hair and savor how it feels in your hands. He licks into your mouth and his heavy breaths feel hot between kisses. He feels almost frantic as you feel his nails gently dig into the sides of your neck, as though you’d slip out of his grasp if he doesn’t tighten his grip, the dull pressure making you moan into his mouth.

You put your hands on his and he relaxes his fingers. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it lightly and he groans at the sensation, your thighs rub together at how you’re affecting him.

You wordlessly guide him to the couch and nudge him gently until his shoulders are flush with the back of the couch. You straddle him and his thighs flex underneath your ass, you resist the urge to grind down onto him in favor of kissing along his jaw.

His tense shoulders release under your hands as your lips continue their path to his neck. Your teeth graze his skin and his breath catches in your ear, you smirk and bite down harder. His hands quickly grab onto your hips squeezing them in tandem with your mouth, you run your tongue along his reddened skin and your sounds create the most beautiful harmony you’ve ever heard.

Your hips give into temptation and grind down on his hardened dick, the layers between you not doing much in the way of friction but the way his hands tighten around your waist send heat through you melting you from the inside out.

Your hand snakes between you to palm him through his jeans and you move your head up to face him, to see how sweet he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted from your touch. He reconnects your mouths and the kiss is messy as neither of you can properly think.

You break the kiss and quickly slip to your knees between his thighs. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pause your movement, eyes searching for his. “Is this okay?” you ask with a slight tug to his pants, he answers by smirking lazily and helping you slide them down his hips.

You pull his boxers down and your mouth waters when you see his dick, the tip a frustrated shade of red. You run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of this length, wrapping your lips around it when you reach the tip. He groans as if he’s relieved to finally have your lips wrapped around him. He grips your hair tightly, fingers flexing against your scalp as he fights the urge to push your head down to his base.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.” he says out of breath, working against his flexing abdomen to keep his voice steady. You hum around him in response making his hips stutter against your mouth, and arousal pools at your core.

You sink your mouth as far down as you can and he moans deeply holding your head in place beginning to thrust into your mouth to test the waters. You grip his thighs to ground yourself and do your best to ignore the way your lungs are beginning to burn. He picks up his pace and you take his cock in your throat until tears prick in your eyes. You tap his thigh and he takes the hint releasing your head so you can breath again.

“You like having your pretty mouth fucked, don’t you?” he questions as he wipes a tear from your eye with his thumb. You nod eagerly and move to take his cock back in your mouth but his grip on your hair stops you. “Patience beautiful,” his eyes darken looking at your swollen lips. “Open.” he says, his voice low. You oblige, flatting your tongue for good measure, he spits in your mouth and his cock twitches at the sight. He lowers your lips back on his dick, the extra wetness making him groan at how messy you look, and you try to keep your throat as relaxed as you can, doing your best to ignore the growing arousal between your legs.

He breaks his assault on your mouth, pulling your head up with a wet pop and you gasp. “Can I taste you too, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly despite how ready he looks to devour you.

“Yes Sir.” you answer and his pupils twitch at the name.

“You’re gonna ruin me.” he laughs stiffly, releasing your hair and you realize how sore your scalp is.

You stand on shaky legs, he sheds his shirt and you follow suit before laying on the couch in front of him. You tuck your fingers in your waistband but he stops you. “Let me.” He says his eyes softening and you relent.

He puts his large palm on your waist and kisses your lips slowly contradicting his previous actions. He leaves hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and down your chest, the wet trail he leaves behind feeling cold when the air hits it. He wraps his mouth around one of your hardened nipples, swirling his tongue and teasing his teeth on the sensitive skin.

Your moan catches in your throat as he bites down and your hand tangles in his hair trying to pull him closer. His free hand runs up your arm removing it from his head and pinning against the cushion gently, you lace your fingers together and you can feel him smile against your chest.

His mouth doing little to relieve the real fire you’re feeling growing deep in your abdomen. You give into the urge to move your hips against his waist and he chuckles deeply taking the hint and continuing his path down your stomach, nipping at your skin when he reaches the hem of your pants.

His breathing picks up again as he slips your pants down your legs and the wet spot on your underwear is exposed to his gaze. He takes his time removing your panties, reveling in the string of your slick that follows. “Such a pretty pussy.” he breathes quietly just to himself.

He tosses them on the floor and eagerly puts your thighs on his shoulders placing gentle pecks anywhere but where you need his mouth. You roll your hips to meet his face and he smirks darkly at your frustration. After properly enjoying your wordless plea he gives you what you want, licking a long flat stripe from your entrance to your clit and you whine at the small bit of relief he’s giving you.

“Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock, sweetheart?” you deflate slightly at his teasing and nod, clenching around nothing at his words. He swallows a groan at the sight in front of him.

He wastes no time wrapping his lips around your clit, swirling tongue in delicious circles. A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden stimulation and he groans wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs.

You move your hips against his face and he shifts his mouth to collect your juices on his tongue before moving back up to your clit. You fight how your thighs want to close around his head but he only presses himself further into you at the shaking against his ears.

You feel him at your entrance, stretching you slowly with two fingers as he continues his work on your clit. He curls his digits into you and your hips buck at the sensation.

“That’s my good girl, fuck yourself on my tongue.” he moans into your folds, flattening his tongue for you to use. He picks up the pace of his hand and you rut against his mouth. The sounds you’ve been swallowing down flowing out of your lips before you can stop them.

“Jungkook, fuck!” you whine and he scissors his fingers faster to bring you to your rapidly approaching peak. Your walls clench and your rhythm falters, he wraps his lips around your clit sucking as he does. Your orgasm rips through you and onto his fingers with a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says breathless, he almost sounds amazed that someone can look so beautiful when they cum.

He quickly climbs over you, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and reconnecting your lips as soon as he reaches your face, he can’t get enough of your lips and you moan at your taste on his mouth.

He slips his pants down his legs, and lines himself up with your entrance, gasping at your wetness on his painfully hard cock. His eyes widen “I didn’t bring a-”

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure, grinding up against his dick.

“Thank fuck.” he sighs, pushing his cock in as he does. Your eyes close at the stretch he’s providing. He pushes in rather slowly savoring every small clench and twitch your walls give him.

He’s quick to pick up the pace seeing as you were more than happy when he was rough earlier. You moan at how well he fucks into you, you hold onto his arms as you’re afraid you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself. He smacks his hips against you harder and you gasp at how deep he is, trying your best not to yelp.

He wraps his arm around your back and takes a handful of your hair, yanking against your sore scalp until your chin is pointing at the ceiling, and you can’t contain your moans with your neck so open. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Give me all those beautiful sounds.” he says into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck.

With your new position you’re a moaning mess underneath him and you feel him smirk against your skin as he delivers particularly hard thrusts, the sound of your moans and slapping skin filling the room..

He continues his relentless pace, watching you in awe. “Such a pretty slut.” he groans. “Look at you falling apart on my cock.” you can only whimper in response. He rubs your clit so he can watch your eyes roll back, doing his best to ignore his approaching orgasm so he can feel you cum again on his cock.

“I’m- fucking- I’m gonna-.” you try to warn doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Good girl, cum for me, beautiful.” he soothes, lacing his finger with yours, mumbling praises into your ear as you clench around him, his hips work hard to keep their pace through your orgasm.

With his not far behind, he thrusts faster finally letting go. He reconnects your lips, the kiss hot and messy as his end is finally in sight.

His hips stutter. “I love you.” He breathes as he releases into you, falling against you shortly after and you laugh, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes while he catches his breath.

“I love you, too.” you whisper and he hums holding you tightly.

“I could get used to hearing that.” he smiles brightly, before he kisses you slowly. — “So…” you begin after the two of you are showered. Jungkook is sitting on the end of your bed ruffling his damp hair. “So?” he perks up, taking your hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you say squeezing his hands, still a little nervous despite the several ‘I love you’s and how your heart pounds when you look in eyes. Still a little nervous that if you hold on too tight he’ll slip through your fingers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” he says leaning into your touch, and his words calm your racing heart.

“Okay.” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but mirror you.

“Hey.” he says, making sure you’re giving him your full attention, and you meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” — You stand next to Jungkook, fingers laced tightly together, as you stare down the familiar dirt driveway.

“You ready?” he asks, still looking straight ahead at the chicken wire fence.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He squeezes your hand in his as you walk through the dirt and into the old house, same as you left it. You walk past the living room into the furthest bedroom where Yoongi’s mark is most prominent in the house. You stop at the corner where he carved that heart in the wall that, besides some dust, looks just like the day he put it there.

“Hi Hyung,” Jungkook begins. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to talk to you in a long time.” he looks a tad nervous as if he’ll be reprimanded, he squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. “I found her,” he says, sounding more sure of himself. “And I wanted you to meet her. Are you surprised?”

“We are too.” you breathe out a laugh. “Hey Yoongs,” your voice is a little shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just didn’t know how.” you breathe. “I miss you, and I want you to know that I’m happy.” you reassure, remembering how he always checked. “We’re happy.” you put your other hand on Jungkook’s.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” He adds, placing a kiss on your temple.

“And I’ll take care of him.” you say, and you both put your hand on the heart gently. That final breath that was taken from you those years ago returns and your lungs finally feel full again, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I love you, angel.”

————————

A/N -> Hello! I hope you liked it!!! I’m really proud of this one, feel more than free to send me an ask with your thoughts, I’d love to know what you thought. <3

Tag List -> @ancailinaerach​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @bunnyboyenthusiast​ @singularity-mp3​ 

[wickedmilo]

SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM | MILO & CHLOE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 10:49 PM SUMMARY: After realising he has run out of money, Milo approaches Chloe and asks her to pay for his drinks. WRITING PARTNER: @chloeinbetween ​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, references to emotional abuse, drug manipulation (Leanan-Sidhe kiss), chronic illness

There were a lot of things Chloe hadn’t done for years, banned because the only thing allowed to be a detriment to her health was the fae feeding on her. There were a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to do now either, against medical advice or the general opinions of the town on what wasn’t and wasn’t safe. Drinking a glass of whiskey by herself in a bar that was too dingy to have a crowd on a weeknight probably fell into all of the above. Which was why she was doing it. Her fingers drummed against the sticky linoleum of the bar, looking at messages on her phone that she had no plan of answering. Her old messaging app had kept all the old messages from before she’d been taken, so in her worst moments she scrolled through the texts she’d received demanding to know where she was, and why she’d abandoned them. 

It was hardly surprising in pits like this that she didn’t notice the young man sidling up to her curiously. Not until he was much too close. “Can I help you?” Chloe asked, looking him up and down. 

Until very recently, Milo had no reason to concern himself with boundaries. The circles he usually ran in had far more important things to worry about, like who had the drugs, and where they were going to use them. He was too used to stumbling, getting close to strangers, or sharing paraphernalia with people he didn’t recognise. Being forced to avoid people, Humans, was new. A habit he was being forced to form. That didn’t mean his other habits, the ones he had been establishing for years, weren’t demanding his attention though. Which was why he had made his way over to a quiet bar, a bar he knew didn’t often draw in the crowds. As depressing as it was to drink alone in a shadowy corner, that’s exactly how he had been spending his night. Up until the moment he had reached into his pocket for the crushed bills he usually kept there and realised they were no longer present. He shouldn’t be surprised, he had been handing them over for hours. But everybody knew running out of money was anxiety inducing, even when you didn’t have habits to maintain. 

His bank account was empty, that had been the last of it. He wasn’t stupid enough to assume he counted wrong when he had withdrawn the remainder of his funds. And he hadn’t been to work since his official time of death. He could make a run for it, but even in his inebriated state he knew being chased down and potentially tackled by a bartender would only end in said bartender being drained of blood. There didn’t seem to be many options ahead of him. So instead of eyeing the door, he began to eye his fellow patrons. It was very easy to single out the person least likely to punch him in the face, and he pushed himself out of the booth he had been slouching in, getting far too close before he could hold himself back. His limbs felt heavy, his entire body clumsy, and uncoordinated. But he pushed on. “Yeah, actually-” He insisted, a familiar rush of longing creeping up on him as her scent began to permeate the space. Taking a hesitant step back, he swallowed his craving, willing himself to stay where he was. “You can pay for my drinks.” Maybe it wasn’t the smoothest way of asking the woman for money, but his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity and pathetically, it was the best he could do. Maybe she would take pity on him. “I mean- I’ve probably had the worst fucking month of my life, and I… shit, I mean I have no money. What do you want me to say?”

“Excuse me?” Chloe replied, twisting in her seat to look him over. There was a buzz in her head, but it did nothing to numb the immediate annoyance at his request. If anything, it removed any social insecurity, Chloe was no longer interested in being careful with her words. A fae would be more eloquent than that anyway. She pushed her drink further onto the counter so that she would not knock it, and looked him up and down. There was a loose, chaotic way of his movements, like he didn’t quite know how to hold himself together. He was drunk, drawling, obviously. Her lip curled in disgruntled annoyance. “Why the hell are you at a bar if you haven’t got any money?” Chloe snapped back, looking right back up at him. 

“I really don’t see how that’s anyone’s problem except yours. And the bartender’s. How disrespectful do you need to be to expect something like this from other people?” She rolled her eyes pointedly at him. There was another thought, biting at the corner of her mind, after another moment of looking at him, the sentence slipped out before she could stop herself. “Can’t have been too shitty a month if you still have the capacity to make bad life choices.”

Milo knew the moment the woman turned to face him that she wasn’t about to hand over her credit card. Even if it hadn’t been obvious in her tone, it would have been obvious in the way she was looking at him. Letting out a huff of breath in response to the question, it was a sharp reminder of how important it was to take shallow breaths. He didn’t need the oxygen, and breathing in too deeply was only going to put her in danger. Each intake brought with it a wave of tantalising scent. “I had money.” He countered, an edge to his own voice. “I drank it.” Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would do if somebody approached him and asked him to pay for their drinks. Maybe in the morning her reaction would feel reasonable, and valid. Right now though, in this moment, it was infuriating. It didn’t make any sense. 

“And it isn’t disrespectful to be a total dick when somebody asks you for help?” He demanded, twisting the situation to frame himself as someone to sympathise with, someone to feel sorry for. He fell silent again, his eyes narrowing as she carefully observed him. Even with so much alcohol in his system, it made him feel vulnerable, and exposed. He didn’t like it. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, he felt a spark of genuine anger when she eventually commented on his life choices. Did he really look that bad? “Oh, yeah?” He snapped. “You’re here drinking alone too, you know? Seems like we’re both making shitty decisions. I’d like to see anybody go through what I’ve been through and not want to drink themselves into oblivion. Haven’t you ever heard of coping mechanisms? Fucking crutches? Maybe I just need a fucking break.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Chloe replied, matching his edge just as harshly, even though her voice croaked with the effort. There was a way he looked at her that made her skin crawl, like he knew more about her than he should, or that he wanted more than her money. Perhaps what was left of her life, she though, and shook the thought away. He didn’t have the charisma to be like Lydia. He was pitiable. Still a threat, maybe, but under her anger she understood just want this looked like. 

There was a knife edge difference between drinking to cope and drinking to lose herself, and Chloe was terrified of landing the wrong edge of the line. 

Then he opened his mouth again and her sympathy was quashed immediately. “Only if they’re not a dick in asking for it. You didn’t even ask! You demanded. You look young but not too young to know the difference.” If nothing, her barbed comment only seemed to raise his hackles even further, his voice raising. Her hands curled tightly around the edge of the barstool. “I’m not pissing off anyone else though, am I? I don’t think you’re in a place to throw rocks, dude. Oh fuck off, do you really think you have a monopoly on suffering?”

Milo glared at the woman, irritated by the tone she was taking although he had a feeling he might look back on this conversation and feel it was entirely justified. “I’m trying to make it an us problem.” He muttered, thinking of every time Dani had ever called him a smartmouth. “I didn’t ask for shit.” He added, his glare only growing in intensity. Clearly it had been a mistake to approach her. She must have known he was likely going to ask her for money regardless of how she chose to begin their initial interaction, but technically he was being honest. “You asked if you could help me, and I said yes, you could pay for my drinks. If anything, you offered.” 

Noting her voice growing in volume, the last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene. But he also felt as though he had every right to be angry. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “I didn’t come over here to piss you off. I actually have better things to do.” He snapped, running a clumsy hand through his hair as he struggled to reign in his frustration. “You know what? Yeah, I really fucking do have the monopoly on suffering right now. Why do you think I’m even here? I had friends, and a fucking family, and I’m really fucking tired. So forgive me for not realising I was nearly out of cash. And forgive me for thinking that maybe someone might actually take pity on me and offer to help me out. It’s whatever, okay? I’ll fucking go-” 

“I’ll remember next time to be clearer with my sarcasm as you don’t seem to get it. I fucking doubt that,” Chloe snarled back, eyes creased in a frown, back straight. She couldn’t say whether it was the alcohol or the attitude that was giving her a headache, but she was pretty sure he was the problem either way. But somewhere in his furious tirade, Chloe heard the hints of something that… well, nothing justified treating people shittily, but something awful, something Chloe understood a little too well. 

No friends. No family. Alone in a dark place with an unhealthy coping mechanism and a need to drown your thoughts in a buzz. Chloe hadn’t had access to alcohol for the last few years, but… well, there had been something available to take the edge off. Chloe shivered. “Wait.” She said curtly, jaw flexing, unable to believe she was about to say this. Maybe because in the biting harshness of his features she saw snippets of Todd and Sammy, young lost men who had found the wrong source of comfort in their troubled lives. Chloe already knew it was fantastical to think she could fix things, but if there was a kindness to be offered…. On the other hand, he was an asshole who had pissed her off, so she almost let him walk away just to teach him a lesson. “Just this once, okay? So you don’t end up in jail on top of whatever other shit you have going on. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Maybe don’t engage strangers in conversation and you won’t have to.” Milo countered. She had spoken to him first. He wasn’t about to take responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault. He was just turning to leave, his hands balled into fists, when he heard the woman call out to him. Surprised, but too irritated to show any gratitude, he faced her once again, a frown still fixed firmly in place. He hadn’t been expecting her to change her mind, and he was in too bitter a mood to be honest about just how much the gesture meant. Taking the bills she was handing out to him, he was careful to only take the amount he needed, leaving a few of them behind. There were other ways to find money if he became desperate. Right now, it seemed like the very least he could do to acknowledge she was offering him help. Crumpling them in his hand, he sheepishly caught her eye. He knew he should say thank you, but he was stubborn. Too stubborn to admit he might have been unfair to her. So he left, instead. Without saying another word. Maybe one day he might feel guilty about that fact, but it wasn’t as though he was ever going to see her again. Something, he thought, that might very well be for the best.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Human!Castiel: It will be alright

Pairing: Human!Cass X Reader/Y/n 

Pov: Cass

Warnings: sad, death of a loved one, fluff, feeling alone 

Summary: Cass helps the reader through her mothers passing. “Cass what am I supposed to do?” “From what I remember your mother as a wonderful heaven waiting for her.” “I bet so!” “she loved you, She still loves you.” Her heaven is all about you, baby.” 

Word Count: 1,445

Masterlist

Tag list: 

Being a human is definitely an odd feeling. Emotions, hungry, a want, and a need. My now internal monologue with myself, and the war inside my head with my thoughts. 

Maybe it was normal to say Y/n, but I had gone from being an angel to now, something that I had sat and watched for eons. It was an honor and alarming that I was human. 

Now before I had my grace taken away in yet another fight. Y/n and I were together, an angel and human. Not that it was an outlandish relationship, it was just something that was unknown of. 

I had fallen in love with Y/n hard, and fast. Her caring personality, amazing words, and entrancing smile. I fell for her mind, and then her body, but that’s not the point. 

Y/n had always been close to her mother. Before I had ever met Y/n there was a point in my immortal life that our paths crossed. Of course Y/n, nor anyone knew I was there, but I saw her relationship with her mother. Their loving relationship like no other I had ever seen. 

They spoke of Y/n’s childhood memories, of which I had the feeling that they both wanted to go back to. Of course both wanted to go back for different reasons. 

Her youth radiating off her body. I silently watched her, and I fell for her. An odd case of coincidence. When I found out she was actually a hunter, her mother though had never been a part of that side of her husband's life. Y/n’s father taught her everything she knows now, and of course now since her and the Winchester boys have met. Y/n is such a fast learner, she grasps to something and she thrives in it. 

Y/n had her mother connect was stronger than anything that I had ever seen. Even after coming to live at the bunker she still talked to her mother even with Dean saying that it would be too dangerous. 

She’d talk to her mother during a hunt, keeping her updated on her health, and even ours. Her mother was greatly excited to find out that y/n was dating, according to Y/n her mother stated this. “I’m glad you’re dating the softer one out of the 3 of those boys. I can just feel that he’s good to you.” 

When Y/n told me that her mother had said that I was still an angel, the notion that someone thought I was soft was a little offended. But after Y/n told me what her mother said yet again when I was human, it was a different feeling. 

A feeling of being proud, a feeling of matter. A feeling that I was making my partner happy. She’d write her mother, send countless letters, Y/n would send what she said were ‘gifs' and some 3 second animated photos. Y/n would also send postcards from every town we visited and write little poems on the back. 

She’d drive to her mothers to just sit with her for 45 minutes before having to leave to one back home. Y/n would do anything for her mother, but some things you can’t fix. 

I wasn’t able to tell Y/n that her mother was sick, since I wasn’t an angel I couldn’t honestly feel that anymore. Her mother was getting sicker, worse by the day. 

The thing about Y/n’s mother was that she... she had said she was ready “Y/n, you’re safe now, I know that. It’s okay if I go and be at rest with your father. “ She had said to her daughter one time she was visiting. 

We had ended up having a few hard weeks of hunt with the Winchester boys and it forced Y/n to not be able to go to see her mother. And in that time her mother had ended up passing. 

Like I said before her mother was pretty much Y/n’s everything, her whole world. And in the moment that Y/n had found out that her mother had passed on, it was crushed. 

It was hard watching her melt into my arms. I couldn’t do anything to help or fix that issue, I couldn’t fly over and fix her wounds. I couldn’t fix Y/n’s wounds either. That was something that time was going to have to fix on it’s own. 

Y/n is the strongest person I had ever met, she could walk through a hurricane and come out standing. I hadn’t seen Y/n anything like this though. Her normal booming voice was gone, instead it was replaced with a quiet shy demeanor.

One evening after a quiet day, Y/n and I lay in bed. The silence had consumed our room. She lay staring at the bedroom door, a blank expression upon her face. “Baby, talk to me?” I asked. 

I was worried, it had only been a few weeks since her mother passed and she was still mute. Her silence killed me. My hand lay on her back in a comforting way I hoped.

After a few minutes of silence I placed my chin on top of her shoulder, I needed her to know that I was here for her. At this point she didn’t need to forget that. 

She slumped into my chest, her breathing rapid and short. “First you need to breathe, and then we can talk, or we can just lay here together.” I stated. I felt her shaking her head, and dipped down to kiss the top of her head. We sat for what seemed like a few minutes before she moved her body, lifting her head and placing her chin on my chest. 

“Cass what am I supposed to do?” She said a hiccup coming through her throat. “Honey, I don’t know what you are referring to.” I said, it was probably the wrong thing to say, but I didn’t want to assume we were talking about one thing when we weren’t. “About my ma Cass.” Y/n said. 

“Baby, we are supposed to live life. We live like she is still here, you have to.” I said. Y/n smiled, it was shallow, and quick, but still a smile. “I don’t want to, I want my mother back.” She said as a few stray tears fell down her cheeks. 

“I know, but that’s not how it works.. at least anymore. You know that if I was an angel still I would have done everything and anything to save your mother right.” I said making sure she knew just how much her mother meant to me as well. 

“You know I know you would have done anything for her, and for me.” Y/n said her hand went to whip her tears away. “ From what I can remember your mother had a wonderful heaven awaiting for her.” I said trying to remember her heaven. 

Y/n looked up at me with a confused look “What do you mean.” She asked. “I’m going to tell you a story now. This was when I was still an angel. But this is how I met you, how I fell in love with you. Our paths crossed, and when I saw your relationship with your mother, it was so amazing. A relationship that was all based on trust, and love was contagious and it only made me want it more. So I kept an eye on you from heaven. I watched and tried my best to keep you safe. I had also looked for information concerning your mother and her heaven.” I said 

“Now this is how heaven works, everything you love and want is there, now that is ever changing but your mothers was always about you. Whether it was about your 8th grade graduation, or your senior prom, or even when you got your first job. Everything was ever changing from you to you. Her heaven is beautiful.” I said. My arms clasping around Y/n’s frame. 

“I bet so. I just really miss her. I wish I could say I love you one more last time.” Y/n said her smile falling short of happiness. 

“You know she loved you baby? She still loves you.” I said pulling her frame into my body and hugging her closely and tightly. And that when I felt a smile against my chest. “I love you know that right, Cass?” She asked and I slightly nodded. 

“Her heaven is all about you, baby.” I said trying my best to calcify everything I had said previously.

Completed: 01/22/2021

[tenspontaneite]

Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 15/?)

In which Callum desperately needs a rest, and Rayla and Ezran bond.

(Chapter length: 14.5k. ao3 link)

Warnings: depictions of wounds, wound care, medical drug use, mentions of food shortage.

---

By the time Rayla returned, the flames had built into respectable enough a heat that Ezran had gone to gather snow, setting it into an icy pile a short way down the slope. Callum was heating the first pot of water, and had all of the soiled bandages and clothes – of which there were now an uncomfortable number – piled nearby.

“Don’t put any bandages in that.” She called, distant enough that he probably wouldn’t have heard her if she wasn’t upwind of them, and he and Ez turned to see the tiny figure she made at the top of the slope, a bundle of sticks under her arm. His throat went a little tight at seeing her arm in the sling, that reminder of its infirmity, and he blinked at her as she drew near.

“Why not?” He inquired, when she was close enough for it to not require shouting. “Did you have something else you wanted to boil?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, occupied with unloading a pile of thin and brittle branches near the fire. “I found some stuff.” She announced, when she was done, and reached into her makeshift shirt-sling to start laying things out near his feet. “Cyanroot,” She said, of a weird and twisty looking thing that vaguely resembled a carrot, if carrots were shaped like a wrung cloth and were purple with hardy and brittle foliage. She pulled out another of the same, albeit smaller, before withdrawing something new. Tree-needles, fairly long ones, still on the branches. “Fresh pine needles.” She declared, and…he wasn’t entirely sure why she’d gathered those, but okay. “And some other stuff,” She added, withdrawing a crumpled lump of what looked like various ferns and tiny plants. “But it’s the pine needles and cyanroot you should boil first.”

“…Okay.” He said, dubiously, and watched her as she sat down beside them. He ran his eyes over her, briefly, worry making it a reflex. She seemed as fine as could be expected, though. The gathering expedition had evidently cleared her head a bit. “I’m…assuming they’re good for something?”

“Can we eat them?” Ezran inquired, looking at the two examples of the mystery cyanroot with interest. Callum was a little intrigued himself, after a good week with no proper vegetables of any kind.

“Yep. Well, you can eat the cyanroot, anyway. But that’s not all.” Rayla nodded, withdrawing a blade with her good hand and – and, for a second, her other arm twitched in the sling, her fingers shifting on her shoulder, and a shadow passed over her eyes. She stared at the weird twisty roots for a few seconds, inscrutable, then passed the blade to Callum. “Cut one of those open. If you’ve not seen them before, you’ll probably like this.” She managed a smile, but it looked a little forced.

He eyed her for a moment, just a little uneasy, because…well, he could guess. For a reflexive moment, she’d tried to reach for the thing to cut it herself, but she only had the one hand available. She could hold the root in place, or she could take a blade to it, but not both at once. He thought she’d be running up against a lot of limitations like that, over the next few weeks. But especially in the next few days.

Deliberately, he returned his attention to the weapon. “Somehow, that sounds almost ominous.” He commented, and shifted his grip. Carefully, he took the smaller of the weird roots, and cut off the end. And then he stared.

On the outside, it was a dark purple, still covered in earth and loam. Inside, though…

“Wow, okay.” His eyebrows went up. “I…probably should have expected that from the name, huh.” Cyan, after all, was a rather expensive paint colour that he had, on occasion, been permitted to work with. It was a gorgeous colour, a searing blue like shallow ocean under the sun, and the inside of this root was precisely the same hue. It leaked onto his fingers, even, and when he drew them away, seemed to have stained them like ink.

“I’ve never seen something that blue before in my life.” Ezran declared, astonished, then paused. “Well, except for Zym’s egg, I guess.”

“People use it as a dye, I think.” Rayla said, smile turning a little more genuine at their reactions. “That’s not all it’s good for, though. It doesn’t taste great, but if you chop it up and boil it, it makes a sort of…nutrient tea.” She nodded to the pine. “Same for the pine needles, but it’s easier to find those. I thought about how we’ve not really eaten anything but meat for a couple of days, and…” She shrugged. “At least this’ll stop us getting scurvy.”

“What’s scurvy?” Ezran inquired, which led into a brief but educational discussion on a disease Callum would be just as happy to never experience. If pine needles could forestall it, then…well. It was a good thing that the Belt had a lot of pine trees.

“Anyway.” She shook her head, when that was done, and nodded to the roots. “If you wash those, then just sort of slice them and boil them, you can toss them and the pine needles in together and we’ll have a weird nutrient tea-soup-thing. And then I suppose we can boil these plants, and eat those, and eat the boiled cyanroot slices, and have had a sort-of balanced meal for once.”

“…You should have more of the meat than us.” Callum decided, after he caught hold of a snatch of nutrition-related memory. “Meat’s supposed to be good for when you’ve been injured, or lost a lot of blood, or both. You’re definitely both.”

She grimaced, and her bound hand twitched on her shoulder. “I suppose.” She said, dubious, and Callum wondered if it was too soon to ask to check the injuries again. Though, if he was going to check on them, he’d need to take her arm out of the sling, and…yeah, if they were going to do that, it should be after they’d got the rest of the cooking and tent-stuff done.

There was, then, still quite a lot to do today. The tent needed putting up, they had to make the weird cyan pine tea, they had to boil their clump of plants, they had to eat…and then all the bandages needed boiling, Rayla’s bandages needed changing, and…well, there was still her binding. He probably still needed to do her hand massage, even though the gaping gouges in her upper arm seemed a more pressing concern at this point…

“What’re you thinking about?” Rayla inquired, a little tentative, and he realised he’d been staring with a furrowed brow at her sling for a good while. He jolted, shoulders hunching a little, and shrugged self-consciously.

He sighed, a little glum. “About how much there is to do, I guess.” He said, ruefully, and looked up for a moment at the windswept sky. It felt depressingly early, still. Though he supposed the time of day didn’t really matter – he’d have the same amount to do whether or not they’d stopped to camp later in the afternoon. “I think I’m starting to get sick of having to walk all day and do all this camp stuff afterwards. It’s…tiring.”

Her lips quirked, almost wry, and she reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Only took you a week to start getting fed up of it, huh.” She quipped. “Don’t worry. You get used to it.”

He grimaced. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.” He reflected, and she huffed a laugh, withdrawing her hand.

“Cheer up.” She said, with something of a sympathetic look in the eyes she rested on him. “Most days we’ll have had an actual night’s sleep, after all. And we won’t have been ambushed and nearly killed in the morning.”

Callum wondered if, with the passage of time, he’d stop feeling these stabs of breathless panic in his throat every time he was reminded of said ambush. Right now, it didn’t seem especially likely. “…Right.” He mustered a little more fortitude, bracing himself for the tasks yet to come, and told himself “Most days, camp chores probably won’t be this depressing.” Most days wouldn’t involve near-death experiences, ambushes, and new terrifying injuries. Hopefully. Probably. So that was bound to make things less awful.

The wound care, though…that was likely to be a fixture of their routine for weeks to come, there was no way injuries like hers would heal quickly, and – and he should probably stop thinking about that, because one breakdown a day was plenty, thank you very much. He exhaled, and tried to feel less profoundly emotionally exhausted. He didn’t quite manage it.

Ez patted him on the knee. “That’s the spirit.” He said, encouragingly, and if he picked up on Callum’s ongoing lethargy, he didn’t comment on it.

“Speaking of camp chores, is there a reason you two didn’t do the tent yet?” Rayla inquired, looking between him and Ezran. “Was it too windy?”

“We thought it would probably be safer to wait till you were here to try, just in case it’s windier than we thought.” Ezran informed her, to a hum of approval, as Callum shifted forwards to set to work on their weird tea ingredients. It was effort to get himself to move, but…it was at least a distraction from his thoughts.

After a moment of consideration, he reached for a handful of snow to wash the first cyanroot with. It turned his fingertips numb and aching with cold within seconds, but…he found he didn’t mind. It was almost pleasant, to have something other than his thoughts and emotions to focus on.

“Do you need more of that?” His brother asked, and it took Callum a moment to realise he was being spoken to.

“Er.” He looked at the snow pile. “Probably. Got a lot to boil today, after all.”

“I’ll go get some more, then.” He said, decisively, and mustered his spare shirt as a receptacle (still a little snow-dusted from earlier) to go off and collect some more, Bait hopping along in his wake. Callum reflected that it was good that Ezran still seemed to have the energy to scamper off collecting snow. After the events of the day, not to mention the extra weight he’d been carrying…he was so tired that merely thinking about having to get the tent up made him want to cry.

Rayla settled a little closer as Ezran left, holding a pine-branch down with her boot to strip needles from it with her available hand. “Give it another hour or two, and you can spend some quality time with your sketchbook.” She told him, in an evident bid to be comforting, which he supposed was a sign that he looked as worn and tired as he felt.

“Honestly, I kind of just want to sleep.” He admitted, glancing over at where he’d left his book with all the rest of their things, atop the tent fabric. “I don’t even really feel like drawing.”

Her eyebrows went up. They’d not known each other long, maybe, but apparently it was more than long enough for her to recognise that as a very unusual sentiment on his part. It reminded him of the uncomfortably-revealing breakdown he’d had not all that long ago, and the highly personal discussion that had followed it, and – for a moment, he squirmed, vaguely bashful for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

To distract himself, he focused on the now mostly clean root, whose truncated end had stained some of the snow blue. He reached for one of Rayla’s blades and sliced a bit off, shedding a little more cyan fluid. It stained his fingertips like ink, and he lifted them for a moment, observing the colour with interest. “Wonder why I’ve never heard of this stuff before.” He said, and after a moment, dropped the slice of cyanroot into the pot. Blue swirled around it into the water like spilled dye.

She shrugged. “They don’t exactly taste amazing, so probably you only hear about them if you’re a dyemaker.”

“Or if you’re a sword-fighting, back-flipping, wilderness-crossing elven warrior.” He said, setting to work cutting the root with a vague sense of impatience. The thing’s intensely blue innards were interesting, maybe, but not sufficient to offset his increasing desperation to crawl into a dark tent and sleep for a week. He just…really wanted the day to be over, and there was so much left to do…

Rayla snorted, and her ears dropped a little. “Or that.” She agreed, her lips twitching at the edges. She set the needles beside the pot once she’d cleared one branch, saying “Best cut those up a bit before you put them in, too.”

He made a vague hum of acknowledgement, and for the next while, they worked in a tired but companionable quiet, Callum cutting cyanroot and pine needles, and Rayla stripping more needles from the branches. By the time Ezran returned with his next pile of snow, the water in the pot was an eye-searing shade of blue, and starting to smell distinctly like pine.

“Is that the tea?” Ezran asked, kneeling down beside the pot to peer in. “It’s going really blue.”

Callum dropped the last of the available pine needles in, and nodded ruefully. He was distinctly unused to seeing anything that blue outside of an expensive paint tube, or maybe the egg of the Dragon Prince. It hardly looked real. He glanced at his fingertips, still stained by what was essentially raw dye, and experienced a moment of sneaking premonition about the likely side-effects of drinking the stuff. “It’ll probably be bluer before it’s done, too.” He offered. “It’s barely been brewing five minutes.”

Rayla peered at it, and hummed pensively. “That’ll probably do for needles for now.” She said, and set her current branch aside. “Take it a little further off the fire, so it doesn’t get as much heat, and then we can leave it for a while. Get the tent out of the way while it’s brewing.” She took the blade from him, and used it to give the pot a bit of a stir. He couldn’t help but notice the way she winced when she leaned too far forwards, as if she’d agitated one of her injuries.

Under her direction, he finished up the preparations for their weird blue tea, and then left it there, tugged upright by Rayla’s hand closing around his upper arm. She was gentle, but insistent, and so he stumbled along in her wake as the three of them went back to where they’d laid the tent out.

“Oh, that’s right.” Callum said, with a sort of weary recognition, as his eyes fell on their initial preparations. “We were going to ask you about the pegs.” She tilted her head, curious, and Ezran spoke before Callum could muster the energy to.

“We were wondering how we’re supposed to get the pegs in anywhere, since it’s just solid rock here.” Ezran elaborated, looking up at her with wide curious eyes. “Do we just sort of cover them in rocks, or…?”

“Hmm.” Rayla said, thoughtfully, instead of answering. She knelt down, perched on her toes, and inspected the hard surface beneath the tent with a narrow stare. She tilted her head.

Then, matter-of-fact, she flipped out her second blade with her good hand, and drove it into the rock. It made an awful noise, and his hands fluttered up in an aborted motion as if to cover his ears, utterly reflexive. She eyed the hole she’d made, apparently finding it lacking, and did it again, stabbing into the rock as if that were a perfectly normal and usual sort of thing to do, instead of a feat of strength that he’d probably break a wrist trying to imitate. He watched her, wide-eyed, shocked awake and alert in the wake of – of the noise and spectacle of it.

That time, at least, she seemed satisfied. She scrutinised the wound she’d left in the mountain for a moment, and nodded. “Should be able to shove a peg at least a little way in there.” She announced, and glanced back at them. Her shoulders stiffened, just a little, as she saw the way they were both staring at her. “…What?” She demanded, somewhat defensively, fingers tightening on the blade-hilt.

Callum eyed her, brows high. “Rayla, you just stabbed a sword into solid rock like it was easy.” He informed her, more than a little admiringly. “That’s amazing.”

“Super cool.” Ezran agreed, and…regarding them, her posture loosened a little.

“…It was easy, though?” She said, a little questioningly, a little nonplussed. She looked down at the hand holding the blade, and her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, which makes it even cooler.” Callum explained, very reasonably, and she glanced up at him. Her ears dropped a little, and he still didn’t know how to read that, but her expression seemed a little more open, so…that was probably good? “I don’t know about elves, but normal humans definitely can’t do that sort of thing.”

“…Huh.” Rayla muttered, looking more thoughtful now, and she shifted to the side where the next loop in the tent straps were. She adjusted her grip on the sword, then brought it down again, stabbing into the stone as nonchalantly as if…into soft wood, maybe, or normal earthy ground, or anything which you expected to be able to lodge a sharp object in without too much effort.

“Can most elves do that?” Ez asked, eyes following her as she moved over to the next loop and hefted the blade. “Is that normal for you guys?”

Rayla opened her mouth, frowned, and closed it. “…Er.” She said, after a moment, and seemed to be watching a little more analytically this time when she brought the blade down. The noise was awful, and he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. “…I don’t know, actually? I mean, I’ve done this before, and I know the other assassins were doing it for their tents too, but…” She frowned, and flexed her fingers on the sword hilt. “Normally it’s not this easy…and before, I was using two hands for it, not…” She gestured with her one usable hand, and let it finish the sentence for her.

Callum watched her, settling out of his admiration into a brief and thoughtful quiet. “…So, what, you’re stronger than normal?” He asked, a little baffled. If anything, after the tribulations of the last few days, he’d have expected her to be…well, weaker. She’d lost blood, she hadn’t slept well, she’d been dealing with all the nasty in her bound hand circulating through her body…and, of course, she was currently definitely in pain from her new horrible injuries. It shouldn’t be conducive to greater levels of strength; rather the opposite.

She stabbed the blade down and made the next aperture in the stone. She frowned. “…I think I am?” She sounded bewildered. “Not a lot, maybe, but…” She stared down at her arms for a moment, then looked across at the horizon with a strange expression, as if she could see something beneath it, or beyond it. “…It feels a bit like when the Moon’s nearly full.” She said, after a while. “It’s normal for us to be stronger, then. But…the Moon’s waning. I should be getting weaker, not....” She trailed off, brow furrowed.

Callum exchanged a glance with Ezran, and they both shrugged. “Any guesses why?” He asked, and she snorted.

“No idea.” She shuffled over and hefted the blade again. “Still, I’m not complaining. Makes my job easier.” As they watched, she continued with her circuit of the flat tent, creating hole after hole in the rock face with barely any indication of effort whatsoever. Callum did finally deign to cover his ears, a few stabs in, and Ezran imitated him, and together they watched her and her display of inhuman strength with increasingly wide eyes.

By the time she was done, Callum imagined he felt much the same as he had when she’d hauled him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Astonished, bewildered, and distinctly impressed.

“That should do it.” She declared, when the full series of apertures had been made, and turned back to face them with obvious satisfaction. The effort hadn’t left her unscathed, and there were stone chips clinging to the burgundy of her sweater, but…she seemed in higher spirits, somehow. He wondered if reminding herself of her strength had cheered her up a bit. “You two get the tent up, and then we can get the pegs in.”

Despite their worries, the wind didn’t trouble them too much. Rayla held onto one of the storm lines while they worked, and that was enough to hold it in place while they got the thing up. It likely would have been a very different story, if not for the dubious shelter of the cliffside, but that was why she’d chosen here to camp, he supposed. In the end, they had a properly-pitched tent that was only slightly trying to pull them off the mountain, and Callum could live with that.

Rayla held the tent in place while he and Ezran tried to get the pegs into the holes she’d stabbed into the rocky ground. And…well. It was a little humbling, to struggle to so much as wedge a tent peg into a stony furrow, when Rayla had been matter-of-factly stabbing said furrows into existence for the last few minutes, with no visible signs of exertion at all. But humbling or not, Ezran couldn’t manage it at all, and Callum needed to recruit the aid of a nearby rock to use as a hammer to make any progress, and even them only managed to get the tent pegs in a short distance.

Callum progressed around the tent in this manner, slow, and increasingly worn-out. Ezran eventually managed to get a couple pegs in himself with his own makeshift hammer, and after the first few pegs were down Rayla let go of the tent to start heaping rocks over them, and after that it didn’t take too long.

He put his hammer-rock down and exhaled, heavily, fingers shaking a little from exertion. “I’d like to pass out for a month now, please.” He requested, when Rayla drew back to inspect the tent, and a fleeting smile passed over her lips.

“You probably want the inner-tent up first.” She informed him, dryly. “It’ll be a tad more comfortable to pass out in.” There were still stone chips on her sweater, which she’d apparently not bothered to brush off yet. There were even a couple bits in her hair.

His eyes lingered on those for a few moments until what she’d said sank in, and he realised that the inner-tent still needed seeing-to, and he couldn’t help but groan.

She huffed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry.” She assured him, and glanced at her hand as she withdrew it. “I’ll take care of it. You go…” She waved vaguely. “Sit down. Rest. Take care of the blue nutrient tea, or something.”

He hesitated. “…Are you sure?” He asked, even though the idea of going and sitting down next to a warm fire sounded divine, and his head was swimming, and he wasn’t entirely convinced he’d avoid falling over if he stayed upright for much longer. “I can help.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and made a shooing motion with her one available hand. “I can manage this much, Callum. Go sit down before you fall over.”

He opened his mouth, maybe to say something about how she should probably be worrying about falling over given she’d been bleeding all day – but Ezran took him by the sleeve and tugged him deliberately back towards the campfire. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he sits down until he feels less dizzy.” He told her.

“Good.” She said, and pointed down-camp to the fire, fixing them with an expectant stare. “Now shoo.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Callum mumbled, wry, and he saw her lips twitch once more before Ezran hauled him away by the hand.

 ---

 It was a little tricky to hang up the inner-tent with only the one hand. Somewhat annoying, and somewhat fiddly, but still doable. It took longer than it ought, but it was doable.

Rayla thought she probably shouldn’t be so reassured by having managed such a simple task, but she was. Her efforts with making the holes for the tent-pegs had cheered her up, too. I’m not useless, she thought to herself, almost vindictively, as she espied the dull metal sheen of one of the pegs on her way out of the tent. There’s still some things I can do.

The extra strength was a little weird, considering she was definitely not at full capacity, had been bleeding all day, and was living beneath a waning Moon. But whatever the cause of it, that made her feel a little better too. It felt good to be strong – to be useful.

She lifted their bags into the tent, arraying them between the layers, and retrieved a couple of things from them before she left. The arm-sling, at least, made something of a useful carrying-pouch, even if it did deprive her of one usable hand. Then she closed up the inner tent and headed for the fire, where…

Rayla blinked. “Is he asleep?” She asked, surprised, at the sight of Callum slumped sideways over his brother, who seemed cheerfully unbothered by being largely engulfed by his sibling.

“He dozed off in like, a couple of minutes.” Ezran agreed, voice half-sad and half-fond. “He must be really tired.”

“…After today, I don’t blame him.” She said, settling beside the lopsided prince with her eyebrows raised. His mouth was open and…while he wasn’t quite snoring, there was a hint of it to the heaviness of his breath, in this ungainly position he’d dozed off in. He didn’t even react to their voices, which was an impressively deep sleep to have fallen into within such a short amount of time. “Suppose we’d best all get to bed as soon as we can.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, and after a moment, jerked his chin towards the pot. “You should stir that. I’ve not been able to with Callum all over me.”

Rayla eyed him. Honestly, she was impressed he was managing to sit upright, given that Callum was indeed all over him. “It’ll be ready soon.” She settled on, eventually, and leaned forwards to stir the virulently-blue tea with the blade she’d left in there. “We’ll have to wake him up.” She leaned back, then reached into her arm sling to start withdrawing things. The jar of what remained of the goose meat, and its empty counterpart. The much smaller jar that had once housed jam. Their only towel.

“Dinner?” Ezran guessed, looking at the arrayed items.

“Dinner.” She agreed, even though it probably wasn’t even four in the afternoon. “If you eat now, go easy on the meat. We need to keep some for tomorrow.”

His expression went a little odd. “…And then you’ll have to hunt again?” He said, looking at the jar, and a flicker of some complicated emotion went through his eyes.

Rayla watched him, cautious, and offered a slow nod. “Honestly, if we weren’t all about ready to pass out-“ or had already passed out, in some cases- “-I’d be trying to catch something today. But…” She shook her head. It wasn’t pleasant to admit it, but she knew she didn’t have the energy for hunting today, not to mention negotiating the process of cleaning and preparing a kill with only one hand.

He looked away, and then carefully shrugged his brother off and lowered him to the ground. Callum murmured, but didn’t wake. “…Right.” Ez uttered, lowly, and…for a moment, his posture hunched inwards in a way she misliked. But then he exhaled, and blinked solemn eyes, and seemed more-or-less normal again.

She eyed him. “…Are you okay with that, Ez?” She asked, eventually, and he looked up at her.

“I’m fine.” He said, still a little solemn, and still a little sad. “Thanks for asking, though.” He considered her for a second, then reached across the sleeping form of his brother to take her hand, the trace of a wince passing over his features as his skin touched hers.

Rayla blinked, and looked across at him, then looked down at his hand. Her eyes narrowed. “Ezran.” She said, a little warningly, because....well, he could just be being affectionate, but from the look in his eye, and the way he’d winced, she kind of doubted it.

He smiled serenely at her, utterly and audaciously unashamed. “Yeah?”

“...You could just ask me how I am.” She answered, after a moment, voice sardonic. “You know, with your words. You don’t have to use your special empathy powers to check up on me.”

“I know.” He said, eyes on her hand, and then he released her. “I just wanted to see how your pain was. Because you probably wouldn’t admit it if it was bothering you.”

She shifted, vaguely uncomfortable with this perfectly accurate insight into her character, and eyed him side-long. “…And?” She prompted, a little curious of his verdict, despite everything.

“And it is bothering you, but you’re ignoring it so hard you’re not even thinking of it.” He said, flatly, levelling her with the sort of disapproving stare that made her feel momentarily that she was the ten-year-old in this equation. “And ignoring it like that is making you go sort of…tense, and achy, so you’re feeling stiff and sore all over and you’re ignoring that too.”

She absorbed his words. For a moment, Rayla felt every inch of her body, and all its arrayed complaints of stiffness and soreness; every crick in her limbs and pull in her muscles, every livid ache of the bruising around her waist, every searing throb and burn of the wounds at her arm and shoulder, and the numb tingling pain of her bound hand. She felt it all with a disorientating fidelity, as if Ezran’s words had called her suffering by name and woken it up. Then she gritted her teeth, squared her shoulders, and shoved herself past it again. “It’s not so bad.” She said, staunchly, and Ezran stared at her.

“Yeah, it is.” He said, unimpressed. “And you’re doing it again, right now, aren’t you. Ignoring it, I mean.”

“What, you think it would be better if I was whining and crying about it?” She questioned, with some asperity. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Take some lilium.” He told her, as if it were overwhelmingly obvious. She stared at him. “Yeah, really.”

“…But there’s still things to do today.” She objected, a little taken-aback. “That stuff’ll make me useless. I can’t.”

He folded his arms, looking every inch a disapproving elder whose charge was being unnecessarily stubborn. It was a bizarre look on a ten-year-old. “Like what?” He demanded. “We’ve just gotta drink weird blue tea, and eat, and boil some bandages. Me and Callum can do that, if you’re too loopy to. And Callum needs to do your bandages and stuff too, which will be way easier for you and him if you’re not in horrible pain the whole time.”

Well. It made an uncomfortable amount of sense. Still… “I might tear my wounds open.” She said, dubious, with a deep and abiding reluctance to submit herself to the drug again. “I did that on my wrist last time, after all.”

“You won’t. We won’t let you.” He said, with such utter certainty and conviction that for a moment it was hard to remember what she was worried about. “And if you’re worried about that, just take less this time, so it doesn’t affect you so much.”

Rayla was silent for a moment, nonplussed, as she tried to come up with a counter-argument that wasn’t ‘but I don’t want to’. “…It’s not necessary, though?” She tried. “I can cope with this much pain?”

“Yeah, but you’ll heal better if you aren’t all tense and nasty-feeling.” He countered, entirely unmoved. “Also if you’re in pain when you get your injuries treated and cleaned out and stuff you’ll upset Callum.”

She paused, thrown.

“He doesn’t need any more upsetting today.” Ezran added, with a sort of satisfied nod, as if he were certain of his victory and she just hadn’t admitted defeat yet. There was a knowing look in his eyes, an unspoken statement: you don’t want to upset Callum, do you?

Rayla did not, in fact, want to upset Callum.

She stared narrow-eyed at Ezran, a little balefully, finding herself vaguely offended at having been understood and manipulated so thoroughly. It was just…rude, is what it was. She stared at him in some futile effort to forestall his victory, even as she tried not to think about how awful Callum’s breath had sounded in his panic earlier, how he tensed and hunched in on himself and looked so miserable every time she winced when he was changing bandages-

For just a second, she glanced at Callum’s sleeping face, looking exhausted even at rest, and…

She looked away, disgruntled. “…Fine.” She said, shortly, and spared a moment to be thankful that Callum hadn’t been awake for that exchange.

Ezran accepted his victory with grace, offering just a small and stately nod as acknowledgement. “Is the tea done yet?” He asked, in a blatant and yet annoyingly welcome effort to change the subject.

Rayla sighed. “Just about.” Her voice sounded sour, even to her, as she rummaged for the empty jam jar she’d brought out, as well as the much larger empty jar they’d been keeping food in before. She set it aside, took the pot off of the fire, and let it sit there for a while, steaming gently into the cold mountain air. “Build up the fire some more, will you?” Using the towel as a makeshift oven-glove, she carefully poured the cyan-pine infusion into the larger jar, then the smaller, setting the pot down almost empty. She piled in more snow, and set it back on the fire that Ezran was feeding twigs into. “Wake up your brother.” She instructed, then stood and left for the tent.

She returned with the first aid stuff that she knew would be needed soon enough, as well as a small and disgusting pile of soiled bandages that Callum had been keeping inside her tattered jacket. Ezran was still nudging his groggy sibling awake by the time she arrived, setting everything out and checking on the pot. She scrutinised it, then dumped half of the remaining goose meat into the shallow blue fluid at the bottom. It might taste weird, to heat up the meat in a makeshift tea, but a hot meal would probably do them all more good than cold. She dumped in the small clump of edible greenery, too.

“Hrrrng.” Callum expressed, lethargic, as Ezran poked him in the face repeatedly, making his eyes twitch and his nose scrunch up and his hands rise to weakly flap at his assailant. “Whassit – Ez – ugh-“

“It’s weird-blue-tea time, Callum.” Ez said, determinedly cheerful, and kept poking. “Wakey-wakey!”

“’mmmmawake,” He claimed, valiantly, peeling one eye open and finally grabbing hold of the poking hand, stilling it from his face. He blinked, both eyes opening this time, and squinted first at his brother and then at Rayla. “….I fell asleep?” He wondered, confused, then pushed himself upright to stare blearily at the fire. “…Right.” He wiped a hand over his face.

“Kind of impressive, actually.” Rayla agreed, and passed him a large and fairly heavy jar of blue tea. She took a moment to be thankful for her unexplained increase in strength – it would have been very challenging to handle the pot or the jar one-handed, otherwise. “Falling asleep that quickly takes skill.”

He blinked again, very blearily, and rubbed at his eyes. “…Or complete, terrible exhaustion.” He said, ruefully, and blinked at the jar. “Er…”

“Drink it.” She instructed. “You and Ez can share that. I’ve got my own.” She held up the significantly smaller jar, demonstratively.

Callum eyed it, dubiously. Then he shrugged, raised it to his lips, and drank. He made a face. “Well, at least it’s warm.” He said, unenthusiastically, and passed it to Ezran.

“What does it taste like?” He enquired, sniffing at it, and held it down for Bait to sample. The glow-toad punched his tongue in-and-out of it, turned faintly green, then shuffled away with obvious displeasure.

“Weird.” Callum supplied, rubbing his eyes, as his brother lifted the jar to drink. “Kind of sour, almost. I guess that’s the cyanroot.”

Ezran drank, and made a far more pronounced face than his brother had. “…Ugh.” He expressed, and lowered it, staring at it with distaste. “That’s horrible.”

At those rousing endorsements, Rayla stared reluctantly into the surface of her jar. Then, sighing, she drank as well. Her face twisted into an automatic grimace. “Definitely tastes worse than just pine tea on its own.” She muttered, disgruntled. These flavours, evidently, did not combine well.

Callum received the jar and took another swig. His expression twisted again, but almost thoughtfully this time. “It’s not that bad. Just kind of…weird.” He claimed, valiantly, and drank some more.

“You can have it all then. I don’t mind.” His brother said immediately, and then straightened with surprise when Rayla turned and pointed at him with the sword she’d been using to stir the pot.

“Drink your nasty nutrient tea, Ezran.” She told him, sternly. “If I have to, so do you.” He stuck out his tongue at her (which was turning blue), but didn’t protest when Callum handed the jar back.

Terrible taste or no, the warmth of it was pleasant; it spread through her body and chased some of the awful chill from her limbs. She sighed, forcing down another mouthful, before setting it aside. For a moment, she stared at the gently simmering liquid in the pot with dislike, pondering the thing she needed to do but didn’t particularly want to. After some effort, and several long moments of warring with herself, she made a disgusted noise and reached to the side.

“Open that for me, would you?” She said, sourly, handing a little bottle to Callum. He accepted it without looking, automatic, then glanced down. His eyebrows shot up.

“….Sure.” he agreed, diplomatically, and though he didn’t comment…

Rayla looked away, a little unsettled at his obvious relief, and took back the opened bottle of bloody-red painkiller with her eyes averted from his face. “Stupid lilium.” She muttered, and set the tiny bottle down to do some finagling.

She took the lid of the jam jar, and drizzled a little of the tea into it. Then, with the tiny lilium spoon, she let a single red droplet fall into the tea, swirling into the blue like ink. She mixed it around, and then took her allotted dose from a thin purple liquid that ought to be much weaker than the lilium on its own. Dilute lilium. It didn’t taste nearly as sweet on the tongue as the pure drug had.

Rayla scrubbed the jar lid dry with the towel, and sighed. She sincerely hoped the dilute dose would let her keep her head on straight, but she wasn’t especially optimistic about it. “Happy?” She asked Ezran, who looked disproportionately pleased with himself.

“Very.” He said, serenely, ignoring the curious glances from his brother. “Is it dinnertime yet?”

Rayla rolled her eyes, and reached out to remove the pot from the fire. “Drink your tea.” She reminded him, and he blew a raspberry at her.

“You drink your tea.” He countered, taking an almost rebellious swig from the large jar.

“I am.” She retorted, and brandished her nearly empty jar at him. “I’m nearly done with mine.”

He stared at her, unimpressed. “That so doesn’t count. Your jar is way tinier than mine.”

“You’re sharing yours, Ezran.”

“Yeah, but this jar is still more than two times bigger than yours.” He claimed, raising it at her. “You should take a refill. To make it fair.” He glanced at his brother. “Right, Callum?”

Said brother looked rather bemused, glancing between the two of them with a lifted eyebrow, and a smile twitching at the edge of his lips. “…Well, Ezran’s right, our jar is a lot bigger than yours.” He agreed, eyes crinkling a little as he looked at her. “So you probably should get a refill, Rayla.” He paused. “But…maybe let me have a bit more, first.” He took the jar, and started drinking from it – this time, without any apparent disdain. She and Ezran watched with a sort of disgusted fascination until he set the container down again, producing an almost satisfied sigh that displayed the purple-blue colour settling into his lips. “What?” He asked, at their expressions.

“You didn’t even make a face at it that time.” Ezran told him, staring at his brother as one might stare at someone who’d just eaten a live scorpion. “Do you like that stuff? That’s gross.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” Callum claimed, exasperated, and received three dubious stares for his trouble, from Rayla, Ezran, and Bait.

“Then you can have the rest of it. Really.” Ezran insisted, then paused. “Well, after Rayla has some more, anyway.”

Rayla opened her mouth to tell him no, you have to drink yours to avoid scurvy – then closed it, an idea sparking in her mind. Contemplatively, she held out her jar to Callum. He got the message, and poured her a refill, whereupon she raised her makeshift flagon challengingly at Ezran. “Bet I can drink my disgusting blue tea faster than you.” She challenged, and watched his eyes light up.

“No way.” He denied, scrambling for the jar. They probably had about equal amounts left now, so it would be a decently equitable race. “I always win at eating contests.”

“He does, it’s true.” Callum nodded, amused, eyes darting between the two of them. “But usually that’s with stuff that he likes, so…”

“Count us down,” Ezran demanded, and his brother looked even more amused.

“Sure, why not.” He agreed, lips quirking, and then did precisely that, providing them with a slow countdown from five while they raised their respective jars and exchanged competitive stares over the rims of glass.

In the end Ezran did triumph, lifting his empty jar to the sky like a supplicant with an offering. “Ha!” He crowed, lips gone a dark purple from the dye in the tea. “I win!”

Rayla smirked at him, lowering her jar, until he stared at her warily.

“I win,” He repeated, almost cautious, as if he suspected he’d been caught out somehow.

“Made you drink your horrible tea.” She pointed out, a little smug, and he stared at her. A moment later, he folded his arms and glared with abject betrayal.

“That was a trick?” He demanded, disgruntled, and received a conciliatory pat on the shoulder from his brother.

“A masterful trick indeed.” Callum agreed, taking the empty jar and raising it to Rayla in a mock toast. “Getting a little brother to drink something he hates is definitely an accomplishment. Very sisterly of you, even.” He appeared to consider something, for a second. “I salute you, your sisterliness.” And then he did salute her, with that clasp to his chest that all the humans seemed to do. She huffed at him, taken-aback, and was surprised by how pleased the words left her.

“It was very masterful of me. I’m glad you noticed.” She agreed, airily, and set her empty jar aside. “Don’t know about the sisterliness, but…”

“…No, he’s right, that was totally a big-sister sort of thing to do.” Ezran said, arms still folded, evidently trying to seem sour but not really succeeding. He looked a lot more reluctantly amused, instead. He eyed her, almost speculatively. “I bet you’d make a good big sister.” He added, consideringly, like he was assessing her for the job.

Rayla eyed him. “Hard to say, since I don’t have any little siblings.”

“Well, you’ve got one now.” Callum said, and all eyes went his way. He shrugged. “What? You’ve basically been acting like Ezran’s big sister for days, so it’s a bit late to say you’ve not got any siblings.”

There was a pause. Rayla stared, a little flummoxed. Ezran eyed her appraisingly. Then: “I accept your appointment to the position of Sister of Ezran.” He said, grandly. “Your duties will be acting sisterly, being a sister, and doing the Jerkface Dance if you’re ever a Jerkface. You may consult Callum if you’re ever confused about how being a big sibling works.” Another pause. “Congratulations.” He added.

She stared.

Callum reached over and patted her gingerly on the good arm. “You might as well just accept it.” He informed her. “He’s decided you’re his sister now, there’s not any getting out of it. He’s too stubborn for that.”

Slowly, cautiously, a thread of affection wove its way into her heart. She considered objecting. She found that she didn’t particularly want to object. Eventually, she sighed, rolled her eyes, and extended a hand to ruffle Ezran’s hair. “You’re a brat, Ez.” She informed him, reluctantly fond, and tried not to think about how she was keeping a truly horrible secret from her ostensible new little brother.

Ezran beamed at her from beneath his mass of messy hair. “You’re off to a great start.” He informed her. “That was totally a sisterly thing to say.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Ugh. Whatever. Sure.” She withdrew her arm, and shoved the pot onto the soil between them. “Just eat your dinner.”

“Sisterly.” He repeated, obstinately, and dipped the lid of the jar delicately into the pot to withdraw a small platter of cooked meat and blue cyanroot slices, dotted with limp pine needles and sagging plant stalks.

“Eat.” She insisted, and passed Callum the other jar lid so he could do the same. He smiled at her, wide and lopsided and uncommonly warm, and she couldn’t help but flush at it. “What?” She demanded, defensive, and he raised his hands.

“Nothing! Nothing.” He assured, but he was still smiling. She huffed at him, and speared her blade into the pot to retrieve some of her own food.

Goosemeat boiled in cyan-pine infusion did taste weird, but surprisingly not as weird as expected. The flavours worked better in meat than in tea, to her relief, and she set about demolishing her portion with an unexpected breadth of hunger. She’d not quite realised how ravenous she’d been until she started eating.

“This tastes like beetroot, but really sour.” Callum declared, having picked up a boiled slice of cyanroot and eaten it. His fingertips were thoroughly blue, and there was a cyan tinge between his teeth. It was startlingly bright. “It’s not bad, actually.”

“Speak for yourself.” Rayla muttered, eyeing a slice of her own. Given her mislike of the taste in the tea, she didn’t think she would like it any better on its own. She could have sworn it didn’t taste this nasty when one of the other assassins had prepared it. Maybe he’d added something else in to counteract the weird flavours?

“I don’t like it.” Ez concluded, shortly after attempting his own mouthful. “I think this is my new least favourite vegetable.”

“Worse than turnip?” Callum inquired, eating another slice with aplomb.

“Way worse than turnip.”

“Sadly, we have to eat it anyway.” Rayla informed him. “We don’t exactly have a lot to pick from, here.”

He grimaced at his makeshift plate, and sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He offered a half-hearted smile. “At least it’s kind of cool how it makes us go blue.”

Callum huffed, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, I thought that would happen.” He said, plainly amused. “Your teeth are all cyan-dyed.” He shot a thoughtful look at Rayla. “You know, Rayla, you could probably dye your hair bright blue with this stuff. Your hair’s so white, it’d take the colour right away.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll pass, thanks.” She said, dryly. “Maybe if it was a stealthier colour. But cyan doesn’t exactly blend in.”

“Neither does white.” Ezran pointed out, to which she informed him that that’s what hoods were for, prompting a short discussion of how exactly elves with larger horns managed wearing their assassin-hoods. (Generally speaking, the solution was bigger hoods.)

In relative quiet, they worked through their dinner. There…really wasn’t enough of it. She was so hungry, but there was so little food. Rayla had rationed the goosemeat so they’d still have some tomorrow, but…tomorrow, they would run out of food. Somehow, she’d have to hunt, and prepare meat, with her left arm effectively out of commission. She grimaced at the thought, and looked up at the sky, where the thick snow-clouds were roiling. The wind tugged at her hair as she stared skywards.

If it snowed, as she was fairly certain it would…then that would make it all that much harder to forage for any extras. It would be harder to find most animals, too. And that was just if it was regular snow. In a blizzard….

She shifted, uneasily, and tried not to worry about the very imminent reality of short rations. She’d find them food somehow. She had to, after all. What else was there to do?

Ezran didn’t need too much prodding to finish his dinner, even as much as he evidently disliked the cyanroot. She thought, worriedly, that this was likely a result of hunger; their rations had been shorter than ideal for a few meals now. In the end, they ate every scrap, and then Callum took the pot from her to drink the remainder of the weird blue soup, and they were done. He cleared the pine needles out of the pot and set to work melting snow.

“Soon.” He sighed, wistfully. “Soon, we can just…go to sleep.”

Ez looked up at the sky, a little rueful. “I think this is the earliest I’ll have gone to bed in forever.”

“Barely late-afternoon, yet.” Rayla agreed, tugging on her awareness of the Moon. It was a little easier to feel than usual, even waning. “Though I suppose it’ll be early evening by the time we get sleeping.”

“We just need to clean these bandages.” Callum said, determinedly, with a sudden vigour. It was as though having the end in sight had given him a new burst of energy. “And then I’ll have a look at your injuries, and then we’ll be done.”

She nodded, slowly, thinking of sleep. “That’ll be nice.” She agreed, a little wistfully, and…for a moment, felt like she could just lay down and drop off immediately, like Callum had earlier. She wanted to lay down and sleep, hard cold ground or not. It was a strangely dizzying impulse, and she blinked, wondering at the abruptness of it. She watched the water starting to simmer in the pot, and after a pause for consideration, reached over for some bandages to drop in.

The water almost immediately went the thin yellowish colour of very dilute blood, the metallic tang of it wafting into the air. She wrinkled her nose.

“Gross.” She muttered, a little disgustedly, and tried not to think about how all that blood had come from her. Tried not to think about how she was probably still bleeding, at least a little. “We’re going to need a lot of water changes for all this.”

Ezran scrutinised their snow pile dubiously. “I think we’re probably going to need more of this, then.” He said, and got to his feet with a sigh. “I’ll take care of it.”

Callum looked up. “You want help?”

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” He waved it off, and in short order was departing with Bait in search of whatever nearby snow they hadn’t gathered yet.

“I wish we had more soap.” Rayla lamented, staring at the pot, and then reached aside to put more bandages in. Boiling water would do to sterilise them, but it likely wouldn’t be able to remove all of the odours, and certainly not the colour. “But we should probably save that for ourselves.”

“…Especially since we’re going to be changing a lot of bandages.” He agreed, awkwardly, with another look at her arm that he probably thought was surreptitious. “We’d run out fast.”

“Once the bleeding stops, it should be less messy, at least.” She reasoned, and shot her own arm a glance. Her brow furrowed, and she wondered if they should change the bandages now, so that the soiled bandage could join the rest in being cleaned…

In the end, though, she didn’t suggest it. If the lilium was working, she wasn’t really feeling it yet, and…well, she’d already taken the damn stuff. If she was going to submit herself to going moonstruck, she might as well wait for the benefit of the pain relief before having her injuries messed with. Still, she couldn’t quite help the way her fingers twitched to her damaged arm, keenly aware of the searing pain beneath the fabric.

Callum was watching her, fingers twitching and shoulders just a little hunched. “…Should I-“ He stopped. “Your injuries, is it…”

She exhaled. “Not yet.” She said, shortly, and he accepted that without a word. They returned to the somewhat disgusting task of cleaning the bandages (and torn clothes) that she’d got her blood all over, and didn’t speak much but for operative mutters like ‘pass me that, would you’ and ‘can you stir this for a second’. It might have been a companionable quiet if he wasn’t swaying with exhaustion and she wasn’t drawn terse with pain.

Ezran had returned twice with a shirt full of snow before she started to feel the lilium kicking in, a process which she couldn’t have missed if she’d tried. Her first experience with it was more or less a vague blur in her memory, which she could recall very little of; she remembered barely anything of how it had encroached before. This time, though…

There were probably some subtler effects she wasn’t noticing, but…considering everything, she could hardly fail to notice when the pain started to ebb. The experience of it was like a steady, dawning relief, like weight slipping from her shoulders, and even as slow as it was she could feel it. The searing ache and throb of the injuries lessened, and with it, so did her tension. There was less to brace against, less to grit her teeth through, less to endure. And so, as the minutes passed, the awful tension slipped from her along with the worst of the pain.

It was startling, how much better it felt. It didn’t remove all of the pain by any means – not even close. Maybe this dilute dose wouldn’t be enough for that, even when it had taken full effect. But it hurt so much less already, and that was such a relief she hardly knew what to do with it.

Callum noticed, of course. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, almost cautiously, as she exhaled another relieved breath through her teeth, stress sloughing from her like a snake’s shed skin. “You…seem like you’re feeling better.”

“Lilium’s starting to kick in.” She answered, and couldn’t quite help the gladness that crept into her words. She’d not wanted to take the stupid stuff, but – Moon’s Light, she was already glad she had. Ezran had, annoyingly enough, been right. “It’s…already a lot better.”

He watched her, almost a little warily, as if concerned that she might be lying for his benefit. Then he exhaled, in what seemed like his own relief, shoulders slumping as though their tension was escaping with hers. “Well, thank Mercy for that.” He sighed, and did appear genuinely thankful. She eyed him, and he fidgeted under her stare, plainly self-conscious. “It’s…been pretty horrible, seeing you in pain all day.” He explained, awkwardly, as if she weren’t already perfectly aware of that. “I’m just…glad.”

“Trust me, so am I.” Rayla said, with feeling, and tried to ignore the way her gut flipped and twisted at his concern. On one hand, it felt horrible to be such a source of anxiety and worry for him. On the other, though…

He cared. He cared enough that he’d broken down over it. Over her. She had no idea how to respond to that.

She wrestled her emotions back into their proper place and exhaled. “Give it a bit longer and then you can help me out of this stupid sling.” She decided, and leaned over the pot to make a face at the colour of its water. “Also, I think we should change the water on this, now. It’s disgusting.”

Callum looked at it and grimaced. He reached for the towel and then for the pot, lifting it carefully. “I’ll go pour it out down-slope a bit.” He said, and true to his word, went off and poured it and returned. Together they heaped snow in, ready with a new handful as soon as the existing stuff melted. “I’m so glad we have this campfire.” He sighed, after a while, casting a glance across the campsite where Ezran had been piling the snow. He held his hands over the hot air emanating from the flames, his fingertips flushed an unhappy red under the cyan staining. “The tent is probably going to be so cold later…”

“We’ll want to wrap up warm.” She agreed, a little absent-mindedly, shuffling closer to the fire to let its lulling heat warm her. “Jumpers and scarves and stuff. In a pinch we can heat some rocks in the fire and bring those in to warm things up a bit.” Her eyelids drooped half-lidded, and she stared into the embers, watching them dance. It was very hypnotic. “’Course, you need to be careful what you put them on, or they’ll scorch your stuff…”

“…Rayla?” His voice jolted her, and she opened her eyes, blinking blearily. It had felt like only a second had passed between her words and his voice, but…she realised she was lolling forwards, as if about to slump over, and the sensation of blinking herself back to alertness felt suspiciously like waking up. His hand was on her shoulder, as though to steady her. Or hold her up.

She rubbed her eyes with her one good hand, bemused. “Mm?” She questioned, indistinctly, and scrutinised the pot. The snow was still melting, so she hadn’t fallen asleep…

“You looked kind of like you were dropping off, there.” He said, tactfully, and withdrew his hand. “Didn’t want you falling into the fire.”

Rayla yawned, and grumbled slightly, and then shook her head in some attempt to dissuade the drowsiness. It didn’t quite work. Now that the pain was receding, it was so much easier to feel tired, and the warmth of the fire was so nice… “Well, if I did, that would wake me up in a hurry.” She muttered, arching her back a little to stretch. The motion pulled at her shoulders, but despite the wound there, it barely hurt at all. She sighed with satisfaction, and debated the wisdom of laying down by the fire. Even gravel and bare stone seemed potentially comfortable, at this point…

“Pretty sure you don’t need burns on top of everything else.” Callum said, eyeing her. “I mean. I still don’t know how much you’ve bled since the last time we changed your bandages. For all I know you’ve bled through them again.” For all that he was plainly trying to sound unaffected…there was a definite edge to his voice.

“My jumper’s not wet.” Rayla volunteered, and then hastily patted over her arm to make sure she was telling the truth. (She was.)

Callum did not seem particularly impressed by this. He was opening his mouth to reply when Ezran returned again, calling cheerfully to them.

“Okay, that’s like, the fourth lot of snow. Is it enough now? I’m getting really cold.” He said, and didn’t bother to wait for a reply before he approached the fire and crouched over it, little gloved hands quivering above the flames. Bait settled nearby, though not nearly so close to the fire as Ezran. “This campfire is amazing.”

Rayla hummed in idle agreement, eyes already half-lidded again from the soporific warmth. “Kind of smoky, though.” She commented, drowsily. “That’s what we get for using live branches, I guess.”

“The pine smells nice, at least.” He said, then looked at her curiously. “You look better.” He decreed, after a moment. “Sleepy, but better.” He reached out to lay fingers on her hand, and she fixed him with the best glare she could manage under the circumstances.

“Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He hadn’t flinched, this time. “Yeah, but you’re better now.” He said, distractedly, as his eyes half-closed to focus on whatever he was feeling. “Is that…that must be the lilium. It feels weird.”

Callum straightened a little, casting fascinated eyes on his brother. “You can feel what lilium feels like through her?”

“Kinda. It’s pretty mild.” Ezran tilted his head, for a moment. “But, I mean, besides how it’s made the pain a lot better…you’ve got this sort of…” He waved his other hand, vaguely. “Warm, comfy feeling. Sort of fuzzy, around the edges of your head.”

Rayla blinked. “I thought that was just being sleepy.” She said, after a pause for thought. “And the fire.”

He shook his head, and withdrew his hand from hers. “No. I mean, that’s part of it, but this is – I can feel that it’s different. It’s kind of cool, actually. I didn’t know I could feel when something’s drugging someone.” He shrugged. “It’s probably a new thing. I didn’t start getting so good at feeling people until we started travelling.”

Callum eyed him. “Why now?” He asked, and Rayla watched with a vague frisson of unease for his answer.

Ezran shrugged again, a little evasively. “Dunno.” He expressed, but his eyes flickered up-slope to the tent, where their bags were – where the egg was.

He was very plainly hiding something again, and Rayla sort of wanted to interrogate him about it, but she also wanted to fall asleep. She opened her mouth anyway – and then closed it, realising that the effort required for dragging secrets out of Ezran was probably beyond her at the moment. Now that he’d pointed it out, she could sort of feel the way the edges of her thoughts were all fuzzy, something alike but not-quite sleepiness slowing her thoughts and turning everything a little warmer and more pleasant than it should have been.

If it was anything like the first time, she had no idea. She didn’t exactly remember her first time on lilium, after all. But it was deadening most of the pain, and she didn’t think she was acting like an idiot, and that was good enough for her.

“You should get this sling off me.” Rayla informed Callum, twitching the dark fingers on her shoulder. “I think I’m drugged up enough for now.”

He went a little still and startled for a moment, staring at her. Then he shook himself out of it, and nodded. “Er.” He expressed. “Sure. If you say so? I’ll just…” He shuffled over, then reached over to carefully extract her from the improvised sling.

His hands were warm, as they manoeuvred carefully around the relatively few safe spots on her left arm. She found that warmth more compelling than the reflexive distaste she felt at her helplessness, and that was interesting. The negativity was still there, but it was…vaguer than she’d have expected. Oddly distant, and hard to grasp. That was probably an effect of the lilium, too.

Her arm ached as, newly freed, she slowly extended it, stretching out its various cricks as carefully as she could manage. The movement did pull at the wounds, and she could feel the pain of it, but…what pain remained was at a remove that made it surprisingly easy to deal with. She flexed her stiff fingers, and they ached too, but most of their pain had been eliminated entirely by the lilium. The stuff was very effective, apparently.

“Sweater?” Callum asked, and she realised that he was watching her with a sort of familiar, anxious dread. His eyes were on her arm, like he was trying to see through the layers of fabric and bandaging to assay the state of her wounds. He was afraid of seeing them, she realised. The thought felt unusually distant as it passed her mind.

“Sure.” She agreed, mildly, and submitted to having herself helped out of the burgundy jumper with far less shame and distaste than she’d have expected. It hiked the undershirt up with it a little, and she was distracted for a moment by a flash of colour from her midriff. By the time she glanced down, the undershirt had already replaced itself. “Hm.” She murmured, thoughtfully, mostly to herself. It hadn’t been bothering her as much as her arm-wounds, maybe, but her waist had been very sore and tender all day…

“Bled through.” Callum said, a little tightly, drawing her eyes to her arm. “Not much, at least, but…” He set the jumper aside, and reached out to gingerly inspect the state of the bandages. They were red-spotted, but the red was fairly dark and dry looking. Rayla noted that with interest.

“That’s less fresh.” She pointed out, with easy certainty. “It bled through a while ago and then stopped.” Did that mean the wound had stopped bleeding, then? That would be nice. Still. She was a little distracted by what she’d seen earlier. So…

She pulled her undershirt up and peered down, eyebrows shooting up at what she saw. Oh, well. That was – she made a small, startled noise, and drew the boys’ attention from her arm to her waist. Callum uttered a low, dismayed hiss at the sight of it, and Ezran’s hands flew to his mouth.

“Oh, Rayla, that’s-“ Ez said, wide-eyed and staring, while Callum still seemed shocked still. She could understand their reactions, even through the soft haze of the ever-encroaching lilium.

Around her waist, where the soldier had caught her by his chains and squeezed, there were lines of swollen, stunningly livid bruising. It had evidently spread out from the initial strips, homogenising it into an irregular band about her middle. Most of it was an astonishingly dark blue-purple, darker by far than her hand had been at its worst, and at the edges it was an unhealthy red that looked raw and swollen.

She lowered her fingers to it, finding it hot to the touch, and noticeably raised from the rest of her skin. “That’s…pretty dramatic-looking.” She commented at last, peering to the side. The chains had wrapped around her sides and back as well – she could see the bruising on her sides, but she had to twist a little to see any of it on her back. It seemed less severe, there. Fewer soft tissues to squeeze, she supposed.

“That looks really painful.” Ezran said, a little anxiously, and his hand shot out at once to touch her arm, as if needing reassurance that it wasn’t actually causing her tremendous pain. Which it wasn’t. When she poked it, it hurt, but in the same disconnected way that her arm still hurt. It was perceptible, but…not unpleasant, with that distance there.

“It’s fine.” She said, inspecting her bruising with a curious, analytic eye. “It’ll make things hard, if I need to do much jumping or climbing over the next few days. And it’ll hurt to sleep on for a while. But right now it’s fine.” Abdominal bruising this severe would interfere with most everything she did, probably. Once the lilium wore off, it would be impossible to find any sort of comfortable way to lay down, too. But she was having a very hard time caring about that, right now. The drug-haze seemed to make all worries more distant and ephemeral; as hard to grasp as smoke.

“….Is it dangerous?” Callum spoke at last, plain anxiety in every word. She looked at him, and found him looking thoroughly upset again. She didn’t like that, but the dislike was hard to grasp, too. “I mean – that looks bad, and it’s right over a load of your organs, and-“ He shut his eyes, for a moment, to take in a steadying breath. She hoped, distantly, that he wouldn’t start hyperventilating again. She really didn’t want him getting that upset again.

Rayla inspected her bruising again. Despite its lividity, it really didn’t hurt at all. With the disconnect from the pain, looking at it was a strangely dissociative experience. She felt almost like she was staring at someone else’s contused abdomen, rather than her own.

She shrugged, and let go of her undershirt, covering up the impressive colours of the skin there. “If I had the bad kind of internal bleeding, I’d have died from it hours ago.” She said, practically, and felt a little bad at how the words made him flinch. “I guess it’s possible I’ve bruised some organs, but they’ll probably be fine.” Vaguely, she recalled that there could be a risk of blood clots when bruising was very large and severe, but…well, she still had aspirin in her system, probably. And with luck, once her wounds closed up properly, she could start using willow-bark again, and put paid to any remaining risk.

“I really don’t like that ‘probably’.” Callum muttered, face gone a little pale.

“If he got my kidneys, I might pass blood for a while.” Rayla said, shrugging. Her shoulders felt oddly lax and boneless. All of her did, really. It was sort of pleasant, after she’d spent the whole day so tense she’d given herself muscle aches. “Aside from that, it’ll just be sore. Don’t worry so much.” She recognised, looking at him, that this was a slightly futile statement. Taking pity on him, she extended her arm, and said “Stop thinking about bruises and have a look at this.”

“Er.” Callum did a double-take at the sight of her bandaged arm, looking bizarrely thrown, like he’d completely forgotten about the actually bleeding injuries. “Er – right, yeah, just…” He shook his head, as if trying to dispel whatever anxious fugue he’d sunk into, and cast a nervous glance at Ez. “Disinfectant?” He asked, even as he reached forwards to untie the knots on Rayla’s bandages.

“…Right.” Ez said, brow furrowed, as he drew away from her and went to rummage in the pile of first-aid stuff she’d brought over. He grabbed several articles and settled next to Callum with a building efficiency that was vaguely sad to witness. He was getting alarmingly accustomed to being a healer’s assistant.

Callum peeled off her bandages and inspected the injuries with a familiar wince. For all that, though, she thought they were looking better. It still seemed pretty sludgy-looking in the wide and jagged middle, but the scabs were spreading nicely. “I really hope disinfecting this doesn’t open it up again.” Callum muttered, accepting an alcohol-dipped swab of bandages from Ezran with barely a glance.

She tilted her head. The seal on the wound did seem pretty fragile… “Mm.” She offered, unconcerned in the way only psychoactive substances could make her, and watched placidly while he daubed disinfectant over her wounds. “Ow.” She said, thoughtfully, at the sting it provoked, and he flinched away at once.

“Does it hurt?” he asked anxiously, and the sight of him looking so bothered and agitated made her want to…do something, but she wasn’t sure what. Hug him? Pat his face until he stopped looking like that? She had no idea.

Rayla sighed. She was definitely drugged. “Not really.” She said, eventually.

“But you just said-“

“I can feel pain at the moment, but it doesn’t really…hurt. It’s fine.” She attempted. “Just…get on with it.”

Callum eyed her, but obeyed. In an increasingly-practiced routine, he disinfected her injuries, and re-bandaged them, and then repeated the process for the shallow stab on her shoulder. That one had closed over completely, albeit tenuously, which seemed to relieve him. Then he moved down to her wrist.

“That’s healing better, at least.” He muttered, exposing the shallow sores that were by now circling her wrist in a vaguely flesh-coloured scab, on either side of the pale binding. He prodded at that, too, testing its tightness, and frowned. “…Ez, do you think you’ll be able to loosen this again soon? Not tonight, maybe, but…”

“Tomorrow should be fine, I think.” Ezran offered, after a pause. “Zym’s not feeling so tired now.” She wondered, absently, if he was saying that from memory….or if he could discern the state of the Dragon Prince even when he was half a campsite away from the egg.

“Good.” Callum carefully swabbed her wrist with disinfectant too, and replaced its bandages in quick, efficient motions. Then he stilled, a little nervously, his fingertips wavering over her skin. His eyes darted up to hers, and he ducked his head a little. “Er.” He said, awkward. “Should I – I mean – if it doesn’t hurt right now-“

Rayla stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, her thought processes slower than she thought they should be, and finally got it when she stared down at his hand on hers and experienced a brief, potent flash of memory of the day before. “Oh, right, hand massage.” She recognised, distantly, and thought for a moment. It wouldn’t hurt, or if it did, it wouldn’t hurt much. The last time he’d done it, she’d ended up coming to an unfortunate realisation, and it had been lethally embarrassing, but now…she thought embarrassment was probably beyond her. Convenient. “Sure.” She said, in the end, and presented her hand to him. “Go ahead.”

He flushed, eyes flicking briefly to her face again, then quickly away. “…Right.” He said, and Ezran sniggered at him. Rayla was having a hard time thinking of why, which was yet another sign that she was probably pretty drugged. She wondered if she’d been like this last time, and whether she’d actually remember any of this in the morning.

“Was I more…” She waved. “You know, moonstruck, last time?”

Both of them looked at her. “…Moonstruck?” Callum ventured, uncertainly, like he didn’t know what it meant.

“Is that a Moonshadow elf thing?” Ezran asked, with interest. “What does it mean?”

She stared, confused. “You know. Moonstruck.” Their expressions did not change. “…Drugged? High? Weird in the head?”

“Oh, it’s like the elf version of marsh-whacked.” Callum recognised, with interest, and returned his focus to her hand. “Interesting.” Carefully, and not looking at her, he started pressing his thumbs into her palm. It ached, but only very vaguely; it was considerably overshadowed by the startling pleasantness of the pressure against the sensitive skin. It was very distracting. “And, yeah, you were way worse last time. I guess the smaller dose is paying off.”

Rayla considered it. “I guess I’ll decide how worth-it it was in the morning.” She decided. If she forgot everything again…that would be a distinct point against the lilium. It was quite hard to think about at the moment, but she was quite sure she’d disliked losing the memory of almost an entire evening.

She was distracted from her thoughts again by the next press of his fingers. It was alarmingly pleasant.

“Hm.” She mused, to herself, and tried to think why she would find it alarming. Because…it was embarrassing, maybe? Embarrassment was beyond her at the moment, but it seemed a decent guess.

“…Why ‘moonstruck’?” Ez wondered, and pulled her attention to him. “Where’s the word come from?”

She’d never really thought about it before, but – “Oh.” She recognised, after a second. “It’ll be from the Full Moon.”

“Why?” Callum asked, a little sceptically, and she looked up at his face. She liked his face. She was quite sure she shouldn’t tell him that, though. It took her a moment to parse through his face and her thoughts to realise what he’d said, and to formulate a response.

“…Moonshadow elf things.” She explained, vaguely, and shuffled a little closer, eyes going half-lidded. She settled, feeling fuzzily relaxed in a really very pleasant way. She thought the repetitive, sliding pressure of his fingers on her hand might have sent her to sleep, if not for the vague accompanying ache. It still felt nice, though. “That feels much nicer when it doesn’t hurt.” She sighed, eyes resting idly on Callum’s face, and she watched it go pink.

“…Er. Good?” He said, in something of a squeak, and Ezran sniggered at him again.

Rayla sort of…drifted a little, then. Almost like she was daydreaming, or actually dreaming, she spent some unknown stretch of time floating in the warm haze of the lilium and the warmth over her hand. The latter stopped eventually, though.

She opened her eyes, which until then she hadn’t realised were closed. “Oh, you’re done.” She noticed, and accepted her hand back into her lap as he released it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He answered, voice still a little high, and then he cleared his throat. “I thought you’d fallen asleep for a second, there.”

“That would’ve been nice.” She commented, drowsily, after a moment. “But no.”

He peered at her. “…You can go to bed now, if you want.” He said awkwardly. “All your bandages are changed, so…”

She straightened, rousing herself from her sleepy haze, and shook her head. “I’ll stay up to finish boiling the bloody stuff.” She decided. “It won’t be much longer, now. And we can heat some rocks for the tent, too.”

Callum surveyed her for a moment. His lips were still stained blue from the cyanroot, but it had faded somewhat. Now, without its earlier virulence, the blue-purple tinge was subtle enough that it almost made him look hypothermic. Or like he was suffocating. It was quite disconcerting.

At least she was too drugged to feel truly uncomfortable about it. Even so, she couldn’t help but recall how terribly he’d been gasping for breath, earlier. She…hadn’t liked that. She hadn’t liked it at all.

“…Alright.” He accepted, softly, and turned back to the pot. “We can all go to sleep soon.”

Together, the three of them washed the bandages, and then draped them over the tent to dry in the night. Rayla put her sweater on, and the boys wrapped themselves in extra jackets before taking themselves and some hot rocks into the tent. Said rocks were wrapped in clothes and towels, and left near their feet. They’d help the tent interior warm up faster, at least.

Rayla laid down on her fur cloak, and fell asleep in seconds.

 ---

 Corvus woke slowly to a pleasant drug-numbed haze, and the even more pleasant comfort of an actual bed. This is nice, was his first thought, registering the softness of the mattress, and it didn’t occur to him to think much more until a good five minutes later, when he woke up enough that it seemed prudent to open his eyes.

Above him was a ceiling. He studied it for a while, thoughts numb and vacant, and noted the whorls and swirls of the wood grain with absent-minded interest. After another few minutes of that, he looked down, and found that he was within a curtained-off section of some sort of room, and also he was not in his armour, and there were obvious signs of competent medical treatment all over his body. His right leg had been splinted and bandaged, his shoulder set, his middle and ring fingers on his left hand splinted and bandaged…

“Hm.” He mused aloud, distantly curious, but not enough so to call out or try to leave the bed. Instead, because there seemed little reason not to, he fell back asleep again.

The next time he woke, it was to pain; pain that gripped him, pain that screamed at him, pain that scrabbled at his dreaming mind and drew it awake, drew it away, pulling him numb and confused into a waking agony. He hurt in so many places that, for a minute, he couldn’t really tell where it was worst. It was as though his injuries had collated into a single mass of pain, generalised across his whole body…

Then, with a little more focus, he felt the terrible state of his leg, his shoulder, his fingers, his head…

He groaned, low and pitiful, and when he cracked open his eyes there was a familiar face there.

“Good evening, master Corvus.” Said Marla the Healer, who lived in Verdorn. “I was wondering if you would deign to awaken today.”

“…Healer.” He croaked, blinking rapidly, eyes full of grit. “I…what happened?”

“Some bargemen spotted you by the riverside, and sent a few ashore at their soonest opportunity to come to your aid. Then, of course, they brought you back here.” She answered, sedately, and leaned forwards to peel back his eyelids, one and then the next, peering at his pupils. “I admit, I was not expecting to see you again so soon, if at all. I suppose your endeavours met with unfortunate resistance, hm?”

For all her collection and calm, he thought there was a hint of unease there. A hint of worry. He struggled to push himself past the pain, and past the disorientation, to something approaching sense…

His endeavours… “I…caught up with them.” He remembered, wearily, voice scratchy and hoarse. “A while before dawn…”

Marla pursed her lips, leaning back to watch him. “You did not succeed.” She noted, neutrally. “You could not apprehend the elf assassin.”

He closed his eyes, shame twisting more viciously than the pain. “…No.” He agreed. “I couldn’t. I nearly had her, but-“ But, what? What had stricken him? What had wrenched him from that cliffside, at the moment before victory?

“…What of the princes, Corvus?” She asked, slowly, as if dreading the answer. “What became of them?”

He remembered, unvarnished by the heat of combat, the faces of the two young princes. How they’d screamed for their elven captor, all fear and concern for her. Captives’ accord for certain, but so much more entrenched than he’d feared… “They were fine, when I saw them.” He said, slowly, because it was true. “They certainly had a rapport with their captor.” He closed his eyes again, the effort of speaking wearing him out. “They were worried about her…tried to protect her…”

Tried to. Tried, tried, tried.

Wind had picked him up and flung him to the cliff-edge. What was ‘tried’ about that? Rather, he should say they succeeded. If, as he thought, they were responsible for his fall…or, at least, the elder prince was.

It was so hard to remember. He was sure that Prince Callum hadn’t uttered any spell. But what had that been in his hand?

“Prince Callum blew me off a cliff.” He said, aloud, and the absurdity of it made him laugh. Weak, rusty chuckles that made him cough, made his head swim, made the room blur…

“…What?”

He would have killed the elf. She’d been skilled, and stronger and swifter than he’d expected, enough so that the impediment of her left hand was likely all that had saved him in melee with her. But he’d caught her. He’d had her, and she’d known it. And then – then, wind had hit him, and dragged at him, and pulled him across the precipice into thin air, and…and that had to be magic, didn’t it? What else could it be?

Corvus knew enough about elves to know that wind was not a property of moon-magic. It couldn’t have been the assassin. So, then, what? It wasn’t as though humans could use elf-magic…

“Master Corvus,” Marla said, sharply, and jolted him from his scrambled reverie. He looked at her, and in that brief shock of clarity, remembered his duty.

“A crow.” He spoke, suddenly, heart gripped with urgency. “Is there a crow? She should be here – she should have found me by now-“

“I set her to roost near the door. I assumed she was a valuable bird, bound to you as she evidently is.” The Healer said, and tilted her head. “…You want to send a letter?”

“I need to report.” He corrected, head swimming, and tried to sit up. He found himself unceremoniously pushed back down again.

“You’ll stay there, Corvus, and make no mistake. You’re in no state for being up.” She told him, uncompromisingly. “If you must send a report, you may dictate it to me. I know enough of the situation, surely, that it ought not trouble you to allow this.”

For a moment her words seemed completely reasonable. And then his mind caught up, and he shook his head. “That won’t work.” Corvus said, a little apologetic. “I write to the General in code.” His eyes tried to slip closed; he forced them open. “It’s…necessary….for sensitive information…” Justice and Mercy, but he wanted to sleep. But he had to report…

Marla pursed her lips, and nodded. “…If the situation were otherwise, I wouldn’t allow it. But…” She shook her head. “Stay down. I’ll get you a board and some writing things.”

No fingers on his right hand were broken, but the arm had been dislocated and set, and even the smallest movements of his hand sent protests down from the shoulder. He gritted his teeth, head swimming, and forced down every pertinent detail he could manage. The encounter. The status of the elf. The status of the princes. The magic that had hit him. He briefly consulted Marla about his injuries, and listed those too.

The writing was sloppy, the ink smudged, and he thought with resignation that it was probably less coherent than ideal, but…he wrote it. He’d told the General what he needed to.

That task complete, it became harder and harder to stay awake and alert. “Send it.” He thought he said, or pleaded. “With the crow…”

“I’ll send it.” The Healer said, gently, and took the writing board away. “Now rest, master Corvus. I’ll wake you again in a few hours.”

The last few words passed into a dream-haze, and he was asleep before she finished speaking.

 ---

End chapter.

 Notes:

If this chapter felt forced at any point, it’s because it resisted being written like Rayla resists recreational swimming. Which is to say I’m pretty sure it stabbed me a couple of times, and maybe maimed a few fingers. I finally managed to push through and finish it motivated by the thought of getting to describe Rayla’s horrible abdominal bruising. Also good motivators were all the people who've taken the time to comment lately; thanks, all.

I know this isn’t exactly the most groundbreaking chapter in the world, which is part of why it was so annoying to write, but it really did block me like a bitch and I fought tooth and nail to finish it, so…if you have comments or kudos or whatnot to offer, that would be great. And I guess people have been saying they wanted the kids to have a breather…does this chapter count? I think it probably counts. On the edits I found it cuter than I remembered.

Good news is that I’ve got the majority of next chapter already – it’s one I wrote a lot of sometime last year. Some edits needed, and scenes filled in, but expect a shorter break this time. I’m quite excited for it – finally, Runaan’s plot kicks off in earnest.

Hope everyone’s coping well in the quarantine. And if not, I hope that this chapter helped a little.

 Worldbuilding notes: (fun fact: my piaj worldbuilding is now so outrageously extensive I had to start a private database to keep it all organised. It currently has 31 sections and 325 entries.)

Cyanroot: made it up. Fake root vegetable. Created partially because of my artistic angst over there being no proper source of cyan pigment in nature to make paints and inks with. Writing allows us to imagine fantasy worlds where our dreams can be real, and in my dreams, I can paint in cyan.

Cyanroot is quite hardy and can grow in cold, inclement climes – but it’s slow to grow compared to other root vegetables, so not especially economical as a food source unless you live somewhere that basically nothing else grows. Also, by most people’s standards, it doesn’t taste great. Still, it’s sometimes grown for food in the winter in milder-climate regions and in other seasons in more harsh climes. It’s an excellent source of good dye, though, and provides nutrition for hungry travellers. Similar nutritional value as beetroot.

Pine needles: an excellent real-world source of vitamin C. If you ever end up needing to ward off scurvy during a long cross-country trek, pine tea is your friend. Just make sure you get pine needles. There are plenty of trees with needles that aren’t pine, after all. Some people genuinely enjoy pine tea and drink it even when they don’t need the vitamins.

Note on preparing pine tea: The kids are technically murdering a lot of the potential vitamin C from those pine needles by brewing them in boiling water rather than just hot water, but eh. Some of it will survive. Just, if you’re ever in a position to need to stave off scurvy with pine needles, don’t boil them.

More notes on lilium: Marsh-pollen, from which the drug is derived, is usually aspirated as particulate matter in the air; when inhaled (especially through the nose), it is extremely fast acting, beginning to take effect more-or-less immediately. The pollen’s effects are explicitly adapted to make large animals go loopy and drowsy, to seek water out, and to fall asleep in it. Essentially, the effects of the pollen revolve around drowning things. The lilium, which is typically ingested, is quite slow-acting, and can take a good half-hour or longer to kick in – but it has the same effects as the pollen, in the end. It makes you thirsty, drowsy, and pleasantly contented about everything. It is extraordinarily difficult to be worried or afraid when under the influence.

Moonstruck: A word used by elves, particularly Moonshadow elves. To quote from my database: (Definitions: 1. The state of a Moonshadow elf at Full Moon. 2. High, stoned, inebriated; generally in a pleasant or euphoric way. 3. Lacking good sense, or fixated on strange, nonsensical, trivial, or impractical thoughts and ideas. 4. Absolutely overjoyed. 5. Infatuated.)

[ragnarachael]

I Love You. So Much.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Sister!Reader, Tony Stark x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k (5,528 to be exact)

Summary: The Parker's were well acquainted with loss and grief. First with their parents, then their Uncle Ben, and now Tony Stark. 

Peter doesn't take into account how long he's actually gone until he comes back from The Blip and learns you, his sister, and Tony Stark had a whole life together. It's then he thinks, yeah, he deserves another five year nap. (request)

Author’s Ramblings: this took a hot minute. i’m sorry about that. but you asked for angst.. thou shalt receive it. this fic is actually one of my favorites, after pouring a lot into it, as well as it being very cathartic in some ways to write. it’s weirdly.. personal to me? i’m not going to sit and ramble about my grief i’ve been dealing with for the past year, but this fic kinda wraps it all up in a neat little bow in some weird ass ways. anywho. enjoy!

Warnings:  ANGST! ENDGAME ANGST! DEATH! SADNESS! FUNERALS! LOTSA TALK ABOUT AND DESCRIPTIONS OF GRIEF! IF YOU CAN’T STOMACH THIS KINDA STUFF, I RECOMMEND SKIPPING OVER IT!

MASTERLIST !    FEEDBACK !   AO3 LINK !

Coming back to life from the dead at the age of 16. Peter didn’t know if that was cool or traumatizing.

First he was dust, and now? Now he’s in the middle of a fight—that he arrived in through a sparkling ring of some kind of magic—five years later, walking around like he’s a newborn baby deer in his Iron Spider suit.

Were you okay? Was May okay? What the hell was going on, and why the hell was everything destroyed?

“My favorite young adult!” Tony exclaimed tiredly after blasting a few aliens.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed happily, falling right into Tony’s open arms for a tight hug. He allowed himself to take a breather from the fighting he was thrown into once he felt Tony’s arms around him.

The hug was short, but held what felt like all the love in the world Tony had to give.

“Did I miss anything cool?” Peter questioned quickly, jolting when he saw who he could only assume was Pepper in a blue version of the Iron Man suit. Peter at that moment wondered if he could get a potential upgrade from his Spider suit to something more... Iron Man-esque.

Not -- Not that the Iron Spider suit wasn’t Iron Man-y enough for him, he just wanted a bit more of a consistent color scheme. Maybe even a set of colors that could be his own brand—

“You’re back,” Tony started as they pulled apart from the hug quickly, clapping his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “That’s the cool part.”

Peter cooed in thanks, talking for a few more moments with Tony before he threw himself back into the battle.

He didn’t see much of Tony after that. He met with a few other teammates that he hadn’t seen before. He even got to hold the gauntlet for a minute until he was curled up behind a bunch of rubble, hiding from gunfire before meeting Captain Marvel.

That was cool as shit.

However, what was not cool as shit was watching Tony sacrifice himself.

His whole right side was singed from the gauntlet. Completely. His breathing was shallow, and Peter was hyperventilating as Pepper helped him get to Tony to say his goodbyes.

His goodbyes. He didn’t want that. Peter wanted everything but that.

Tony Stark was not dead. He wasn’t dying.

But as Pepper helped him trudge to his mentor in the rubble of the battlefield, not even his mind could trick him into thinking everything was okay.

Peter was sure that this wouldn’t be happening right now if Tony didn’t end up with the gauntlet. 

Tony would still be alive, and he’d be able to catch him up on what he missed after five years of being dead. He was supposed to live and be fine.

Yet, Tony Stark had to be the hero and wear the gauntlet before snapping. 

Peter was crying over Tony’s barely breathing body. He hadn’t cried like this since Ben’s birthday rolled around who knows how long ago now. It was convulsing, heaving sobs that pained him to even inhale. He’s shocked he even spoke. 

Pepper started to gently coax him away into Rhodey’s arms, and that’s when Peter realized he didn't want to leave. He didn’t want to leave his mentor like this. Just... alone. In the rubble while he barely fights for his life. He wanted to rewind the past hour of fighting just to change the outcome of today. He wanted to pull himself from Rhodey’s arms while Pepper was the last person to talk with him. He wanted to talk with Tony. Joke with him one last time. Not have a conversation about the fight, not even think about what all happened.

Peter Parker just wanted one last meaningful conversation with Tony Stark.

And now? He’ll never get that.

The rest of the day was a blur after that. Peter was quiet, kept to himself as he curled into the neon orange blanket someone gave him. It reminded him of some show you forced him to watch a few years back, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about the title. Peter couldn’t be bothered to think about anything period. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care.

Tony Stark was dead. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Someone was nice enough to bring him home to May in a nice cabin upstate. He assumed that someone was Pepper, from the gentle conversation she was trying to have with him when May flung the door open and pulled Peter into her arms the second she saw him.

The tension that slipped off his shoulders when he got into her arms made all the difference. He could feel his eyes start to sting with tears again, pressing his face into May’s cardigan that his head was rested on. 

He couldn’t focus on anything but the low hum of Pepper’s voice and the ringing in his ears. 

Peter’s head moved a little when he heard Pepper speak your name. He breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. 

You were okay. You were safe. 

May’s hands were comforting as she rubbed Peter’s back through the blanket. That’s when he noticed that someone was kind enough to peel him out of the Iron-Spider suit. 

“I just have to pass the news on to her,” Pepper reasoned softly after pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s head. “She deserves to know.”

May was quick to direct Pepper to where you were located in the cabin, sniffling as she spoke and gestured to somewhere on her right. 

Peter said your name softly. Almost tearfully, asking for you like he did when he was a bit younger and had bad nightmares. Before Tony Stark’s death. Before he was burdened with being Spider-Man. 

Before he had to grow up. 

“Pepper’s talking with her right now, sweetheart,” May reassured softly, looking down at Peter’s bruised and scraped face. “Do you want to lay down?”

Peter didn’t hesitate to nod into May’s chest. He heard her coo before they took their time going up the nice wooden steps, hearing Pepper’s voice travel once they were on the landing of the second level.

“No, no. Pep, you’re lying to me,” you demanded, successfully cutting her off as your hands flew to grab the back of the office chair you must have gotten out of. Your nervous laughter was followed by creaking of the floorboards. 

Peter made May stop so he could listen, trying to get a peek in again. 

“I wish I was—“

“You don’t need to wish,” you spat. Your knuckles were white from your tight grip before you moved to push the chair under the desk a little too rough for it to be considered normal, “because you are. You are lying to me, Pepper. My husband is still out there. He’s still alive. Tony’s just being overdramatic again and he’s going to walk through the front door—”

Pepper was quick to place her hands on your shoulders to calm your angry rambling substantially in that moment. She spoke your name gently, her own voice starting to shake from emotion before continuing. 

“Tony didn’t make it.”

It wasn’t rocket science to know that every bit of you shattered then when you fell into Pepper’s arms, her words finally starting to set in. You had put up a good fight trying to ignore the truth. But in the end, you accepted it. Peter could hear you shaking with sobs much like he had just a mere handful of hours ago, just over Tony’s body. 

Peter was starting to panic. His mind completely skipped over the title you had used for Tony, glancing up at May with bloodshot eyes. She didn’t need to have Peter speak before guiding him into the office you and Pepper were in, clearing her throat softly to get Pepper’s attention.

Her gaze fixed on Peter as he started to pull from May’s arms, trying to carefully walk over to where you stood.

“C-Can I—“

“Pete, I don’t think—“

The words in Pepper’s throat died when your head moved from her chest, the instance when you heard his name. Seeing your baby brother all beaten and bruised from the battle Tony had warned you about nights ago was almost as painful as the news you were trying to process.

It was supposed to end better than this. It was supposed to end happier, your mind screamed. You were supposed to be hugging Tony right now. Crying tears of joy with the small family you’d made together.

And it’s all been blown to shit.

After a few beats of silence, you left Pepper’s arms immediately to hug Peter into your chest, still shaking from your onslaught of tears.

Your baby brother. Your stupid, stupid baby brother who dragged himself into this mess willingly was okay. Well, for the most part. He was a victim of The Blip, after all.

Peter didn’t mind his face being crushed against your shoulder for the first time in his 16 years of living. He clung to you as tight as he humanly could, starting to bawl again himself.

You were just relieved to see Peter in one piece.

Pepper and May had talked for a few moments while you held Peter’s face in your hands. You let out a wet chuckle at the neon blanket wrapped around him as you let your thumbs swipe just under his eyes to catch the tears that were pouring out.

“Y-You.. You look like Sherlock.”

Peter couldn’t stop the hoarse laughter that left his throat when his mind made the connection from earlier thoughts. “I thought the s-same thing.”

You scanned his face. Once you were pleased with what you saw, you didn’t hesitate to press a long kiss to a clean part of his forehead before squeezing the life out of him again. More tears continued coming from your closed eyes before you started rocking the two of you back and forth, feeling Peter’s breathing hitch like a hiccup against your shirt.

You felt another pair of arms around you then, another head laying on your free shoulder. You cracked an eye open only to see May trying to keep it together as she hugged the both of you at once.

The three of you stayed like this for what felt like a while. At least until the sobbing was contained and you could actually see past all of your tears.

Numb. That’s a feeling you and Peter shared. However, you weren’t numb enough to avoid your sudden urge to give Peter a little chewing out. You were quick to pull him from your chest and held him at arm’s distance.

“You’re.. You’re so goddamn stupid, Peter—”

“I know.”

“You should have just gone to MOMA—”

“I know,” Peter stressed, whining slightly to cut you off. “Can I please get chewed out later? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

You felt your face contort into a mixture of emotions from his words before pulling him into your chest one last time. May had finally let you go after you pulled Peter back in, planting a kiss to the back of your head.

“We’re talking about this later, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled loudly against your tear stained shirt before he pulled away from you.

You did one last once over on him, seeing Peter in his messy glory and neon blanket in one piece. You breathed out a sigh of relief before taking a moment to put yourself together, thankful for your equally tearful reunion with May to have already been done.

“Well, uh,” you started, waving around the office, “make yourself at home. I’ve--I’ve got to track down Pepper—”

“She’s with Morgan,” May butted in softly, causing you to look over your shoulder at her. “Go. We’ll be in the guest room.”

You couldn’t help the small smile fighting it’s way to your lips before giving May a quick hug, leaving after kissing them both on the cheek.

“Morgan?” Peter questioned quietly as he wracked his brain to think of a mutual friend with the same name. May let out a soft sigh and shook her head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders to guide him out of the office.

“She’ll explain it later, sweetheart.”

Later came two days after Pepper brought Peter to the cabin’s doorstep.

The morning of Tony’s funeral.

Peter was thankful for the 48 hours everyone was given to try and process what’s happened. During those 48 hours, he’s done nothing but sleeping. It was a wonderful coping mechanism for the time being.

While he was awake, he came across Morgan several times. Sometimes she was playing with a bunch of toys in the den with you or May. Other times she’s sitting on the couch and happily watching a Pixar film. 

Morgan was the cutest little girl he’s ever seen. She reminded him of Tony in so many ways, but he also saw bits of someone else in her. He was too tired to try and place who.

Peter didn’t catch the time, but he caught you starting a pot of coffee in what looked like a Black Sabbath shirt and leggings in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he called out gently so you weren’t startled, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You didn’t jump and continued wrestling with the coffee pot.

“Morning to you too,” you grumble quietly, gently smacking the filter compartment and making a mental note to get a new coffee maker. Peter slid his hands into his flannel pajama pockets, padding into the large kitchen.

While you let out a long sigh, pressing the start button on the side of the coffee machine and running your hands over your tired face, Peter took the time to take in the open concept kitchen.

It looked.. Amazing. Almost exactly like you described when you talked about the kind of kitchen you wanted years ago.

“Why are you up at five in the morning, Peter?” You questioned gently, turning around to face your brother. Peter looked like a deer in headlights, squinting at the numbers on the stove only to see that yes, it was five in the morning.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Makes sense,” you replied, moving to the fridge, “usually you’re up around 1. Are you hungry now or can you wait until Morgan and May or up?”

“I can wait,” Peter said. His brain was shouting at him to say yes, since he’d been asleep for what felt like years, but he pushed his hunger aside. “I tried asking May how you ended up here, and uh—”

“It wasn’t because of The Blip, if that’s what she told you,” you said, now standing in an awkward position between the kitchen’s island and the fridge. “I came willingly.”

You let out a chuckle at that, Peter barely cracking a smile.

“She told me to ask you what happened. That it wasn’t her place,” he continued, moving to pull out one of the stools on the opposite end of the counter before eyeing the fruit basket. You sighed and finished the short journey to the fridge, grabbing two sticks of string cheese from the crisper, shutting the door with your hip.

Without any hesitation, you tossed one stick at him once you stood across from him at the island. “What else did you try to get her to say?”

Peter was quick to catch the stick before it hit his face, sputtering on his words for a moment. “What? What do you mean?”

“You and I know how you get, Pete,” you started, peeling the plastic from your cheese stick as you spoke, “when you want to find something out you go poking.”

Peter scoffed nervously, starting to open his cheese stick. 

“No I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” You pinched some of the cheese on the edge of your stick and slowly peeled it off into a single string before opening your mouth. Peter pouted down at his occupied hands. He hated when you’re right.

You carried on elaborating while he zoned out, starting to make a sudden connection after he watched you speak, eyes drifting to the hefty ring on your finger.

“You married him?”

If you weren’t in the middle of pulling more cheese into string, you would have choked.

Well, you did choke. On your own spit, actually. You shimmied the half eaten cheese stick back into it’s plastic to place it on the counter top. After taking a few moments to try and keep your breathing even and not burst into tears, you spoke up.

“Yes.”

“You.. You finally married Tony?” Peter rephrased slowly. “When?”

“In the fall,” you recounted easily, now looking down at your ring as you felt your eyes tear up. “A while after your birthday. August 24th.”

“Just like you always talked about,” Peter said with a bit of a smile now, tearing his cheese in half. You cleared your throat and turned to check on the coffee pot that started to sputter.

“Y-Yeah. You would have loved the ceremony—”

“How many years?”

“Three. I found out I was pregnant with Morgan after we.. we lost.” Your throat was tightening and you hated that feeling. So in turn, you decided to busy yourself making your usual cup of coffee.

While you were shuffling around, Peter’s head was reeling as he took in those words. He could easily place some of Morgan’s mannerisms in you after playing with her for the first time, he just blocked it out. Was it because part of him didn’t want to believe that his mentor was his brother-in-law?

Most probably, yes. His mind made the memory of when he found out the two of you were officially dating flash before his eyes. He shook it off casually and realized that meant he’s also an uncle. Uncle Peter.

His heart swelled.

“Do you want coffee or anything, Peter?” You asked kindly, trying to focus on your coffee ratio in the mug you had picked out from the drying rack. 

“I’ll take chocolate milk?”

You cracked a smile. “Check the bottom shelf.”

Peter all but flew out of his seat, rushing to the fridge and grabbing the half gallon jug of chocolate milk that had yet to be opened. He let out a far too happy groan and moved to open the jug officially.

“If you’re drinking Morgan’s chocolate milk, you gotta get a cup. You’re not drinking straight from the jug,” you said sternly, already shoving a glass Peter’s way with a stern look. “She will kick you.”

Peter’s glee didn’t diminish like you thought it would when you told him that before you both got your drinks and sat back at the counter top, starting to converse until the sun was hung up in the sky properly and you had to get cooking breakfast.

May didn’t hesitate to pop in and help you cook while Peter decided to entertain Morgan. You were thankful they weren’t trying to find a new apartment to live in yet. You don’t think you could handle the house with just you and Morgan. Not yet.

It didn’t really hit you that today was the funeral until you went to answer the door and was greeted with Pepper, who had a bag on her shoulder, and Happy.

Needless to say, once you guided them to the kitchen and told them what you’d made for breakfast, you needed a moment to yourself and excused yourself to your room.

You knew what was in that bag. And you didn’t want to see what was recorded. Seeing pictures of Tony only made you want to curl into a tight ball in your bed and just sob for the rest of the day. But you needed to stay strong. For Morgan.

After the cry break you had in your room, you had started to get your breathing back under control when you heard a gentle knock on the door. You didn’t do anything but stare at the hardwood.

Your heart wished it was Tony, who was coming in to take the pain away. You hated the fact that you only wanted to cry more when you saw May enter and shut the door behind her. It’s almost like she knew something was wrong when she walked in. You started to cry again and she was quick to gather you into her arms so you could cry a bit more before having to do the unimaginable.

When your crying was subdued to sniffles, May informed you that Pepper was happy to clean up breakfast, and Happy and Peter kept Morgan company.

You let yourself stay in pieces for a while longer in May’s arms before hyping yourself up to face the day. When the others started to all arrive for the day, you kept your cool for the most part. You greeted everyone with a small, kind smile, occasionally sharing some tears after some hugs with certain guests.

The plan for the day was to properly say goodbye to Tony before having a small shindig of some kind. Tony wouldn’t want everyone to be a sobbing mess due to his death. You know that for a fact thanks to a late night conversation before trying to do this stupid time traveling idea. He wanted people to be sad, yes, but not let them dwell on that feeling and celebrate him without all the tears. 

You felt like you weren’t keeping his  promise with how much you’d been crying for the past three days straight since you’ve been told about his passing, but you pushed past that to try and focus on what you needed to get done.

The video he left was heartbreaking to watch. You held Morgan tight to your side as you listened and watched the recording of your late husband with tears threatening to spill the entire time. You, Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, and Happy were in the den, watching the hologram speak.

After that, it actually felt like he was with you the whole time. From the moment the recording was over to the second you and Morgan eased the wreath Pepper made into the water of the lake around on the back end of the cabin. It was reassuring in ways you hadn’t expected it to be.

All in all, it was really a beautiful ceremony with all of Tony’s friends and colleagues. You couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to attend.

Eventually, everyone filed back inside while Pepper, May, and Clint’s wife, Laura, insisted on handling the rest of the day for you to just relax. You tried to ignore their shooing when you started to help, letting out some laughter when May started to usher you out of your own kitchen.

You really had no choice but to relax, and to you that felt like a dangerous option you were given. 

The first thing you did was try to look for Morgan and spend more time with her, but she was conversing with Happy on one of the benches in the back porch. She seemed so enthralled with the conversation. You assumed she was talking to him about her adventures in her tent, since they hadn’t seen each other in a few months. You decided she could be with Happy for the day, not wanting to disturb the sense of peace it gave you, seeing your daughter so happy.

A smile was settled on your face when you turned back around from the window you looked through to find Morgan, only to come face to face with Stephen and a glass of what looked like iced tea. You gasped before laughing at your sudden shock, before taking the glass.

“Thanks, Strange.”

“Anytime,” he replied evenly before standing next to you. You assumed it was for company, which you were thankful for. However, you’ve only talked to the man once and that was when he swooped in and took Tony when you were trying to have a walk around Central Park years ago.

Your hand slowly brought the glass to your lips as you looked at all of the people your husband knew, letting out a soft sigh. You noticed Peter talking with Harley and couldn’t help but crack a smile. They both seemed a bit melancholic as they conversed, but you could tell they were getting along great. That’s all you could ask for.

Finally, you took a sip of the tea and masked your surprise when you realized that it was spiked. Spiked iced tea. Honestly, you didn’t mind. You turned your head after you swallowed, eyeing Stephen cautiously.

“How much did you add to this?”

“Pepper only put in a splash. She said it was to get you to relax, and I agreed,” Stephen explained as he lifted his drink for a sip before sending a teasing wink your way, “doctor’s orders.”

You snorted probably too hard from that joke. You admired Stephen for his previous profession, even if he was like Tony. Stubborn, an occasional egomaniac, and charming. Thankfully, you knew your way around that type of person. Shaking your head, you moved to place the glass on the window sill, not wanting to take in too much “iced tea” just yet.

“Last time you and I talked you needed Tony for something.”

“Yes.”

“What do you need from me now?”

Stephen let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

You give him a skeptical look then, crossing your arms high on your chest to know you weren’t messing around. Stephen gave you a sincere look.

“I’m serious. I’m here to give you my condolences, as well as some company,” Stephen explained, “we both know that we’re not good at this kind of.. thing. And I’m also here to say that if you ever need any help, I can be of service. And Wong, if need be.”

Shock was displayed on your face as he just casually called you out on you not wanting to mingle. Your arms stayed crossed as your eyes scanned and tried to see if you could detect anything in his body language that could mean he’s just lying straight to your face. You found none. Nothing. Zip. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Stephen responded, placing his glass next to yours now. “Tony.. Tony was an integral piece of the puzzle to make all this happen. I’m indebted to him, in a way.”

“So you’re blaming yourself for his death?” You hated how blunt you put it. It made the both of you wince. Regardless, Stephen seemed to hesitate before nodding, grabbing his glass to take a big sip. You finally let your arms fall back to your sides, smoothing out some of your dress.

You stood in silence with Stephen, trying to digest this whole conversation.

You supposed it would be helpful to befriend a sorcerer.

“Would you be willing to watch Morgan some time? I.. I might need to take a few extra hours at work with Pepper to get things sorted.” It wasn’t totally a lie. You did want to take up extra hours at Stark Industries so you could sort out any messes before they became known, but you wanted to see what he’d say.

Stephen took a long sip again before pulling his glass away to smack his lips momentarily to think.

“I don’t see why not.”

“If she was over, she wouldn’t be taught how to make balloon animals or learn magic tricks, would she?”

You could feel your smirk growing as Stephen closed his eyes with a hiss, trying to conceal his laughter.

“Mrs. Stark—”

“You gotta admit it’s kinda funny,” you mused. “I take it I can contact you by one of your agencies? Bark? Thumbtack?”

“Ha, ha,” Stephen bit out, unable to hide his smile from his concealed laughter. “Keep this up and I’m taking the tea back.”

After rolling your eyes, you grabbed your iced tea glass that was starting to sweat. “I’m done. Promise. Get my number from Pepper and we’ll actually talk about arrangements sometime.”

Without waiting for a reply, you stepped around Clint’s kids to actually try to talk to others that weren’t in the magician profession.

Ironically enough, you spoke around with almost everyone after that. You felt considerably looser and made a mental note to try and run into Pepper when she wasn’t part of the Kitchen Patrol to thank her.

Thankfully, everyone had moved into the den, starting to pick at some of the food Pepper, May, and Laura had brought out. You decided to finally slip away and sit on the dock you had stood on a handful of minutes, maybe even a few hours ago, placing a wreath that was dedicated to your dead husband on the very water it was built on top of.

That caused you to sigh and take another sip from your tea.

“I should have seen this one coming, shouldn’t I?” You questioned aloud as you looked off into the distance where you saw the wreath still afloat. “I knew you were joking when you said something about the “Parker Curse”, but I didn’t assume it would come true.”

You let out a bitter laugh, carefully shifting to let your legs hang over the edge of the wood. Your drink was placed next to your shoes you wore with your dress. You even traced the small circle of water that was forming around your glass from the condensation.

What do you say now? Should you say anything now? Hell, could Tony even hear you? You wouldn’t know. Over the past three days, you didn’t know anything anymore.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it without you, y’know. Morgan’s going to miss you. She doesn’t quite get it, I think,” you started before taking a deep breath while trying to ignore your throat contracting in pain while your eyes stung with fresh tears, “then again she might. She’s your daughter, after all.”

You paused again, still at a loss for words as your fingers started to twist at your wedding ring, trying to fight back some of the tears while your mind ran wild. Eventually, the tears did start coming. Not too hard, but they were definitely rocking through your body to make you press a hand into the dock to steady yourself.

“You--You just had to sacrifice yourself, didn’t you? I told you—I told you that you should’ve stayed out of it and.. and just let them handle it themselves,” you heaved, trying to take a deep breath. “But you just couldn’t sit there and do nothing once you got a taste of what they were doing.”

The fact that anger was surging through you made you even more irritated. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes as you kept sobbing, trying to think this all out logically. You weren’t mad at Tony. You never could be. This was the grief talking and you hated how well you knew that about yourself by now.

You wished you could just get past the grieving stage and go right to accepting what’s happened. But you know that’s not going to happen. That’s just your luck.

The wind started to blow slightly around you. It was warm and inviting, almost like some form of a hug. It made you pull your hands from your eyes to look around your backyard, not seeing anyone out with you.

You were thankful for some moments of peace.

You kept chatting out into the air for a while, as if you and Tony were catching up on what he missed while he was out battling to win. There were tears, there was laughter, and there was undoubtedly some anger that came through and caused you to almost drain the last of your tea in the glass.

Once your tea was drained and your eyes felt a bit drier than they had for the whole conversation, you called it quits.

“I really hope you heard all of this, Tony,” you started easily, shifting to pop up onto your bare feet and grabbing your shoes as well as your empty glass in the process. “If not.. This was super awkward and whoever ended up hearing it probably didn’t enjoy it.”

Taking one final look out into the landscape of the lake where the wreath once was, you took in a shaky breath before speaking the last thing Tony ever spoke to you: “I love you. So much.”

The wind blew one last time like it had earlier, and you couldn’t hide a smile that time before you heard the back door to the cabin slam open, Peter’s laughter to be heard as Morgan shouted. You whipped your head around in panic at first before smiling at the sight, already making your way back to the cabin.

“Mommy! Aunt Pepper made Goji berry pancakes!”

“Morgan, take it easy!”

“Hey!” You called out, unable to help your own laugh, “you better have saved some for me, Little Miss! If not you’re in big trouble!”

[pervyjackson]

The Passing of a Mortal

This short story is a diary entry by, the one and only, Percy Jackson. He wrote about his mother, who has passed a while ago of cancer. He still mourned over her. (Obviously, Sally’s not dead yet, but just for this short story, we can assume she did.)

~~~

“ Mortal lives may be short, but if we live with excitement and story at our fullest, once we die, we die pleasured, with no guilt. ”

Dear Diary,

Another day, when I keep thinking about her. She was an angel, the protector of my life. Passed away four years ago, but it still felt like yesterday. I feel awful. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was spend as much time with her as possible, even when she had surgery behind those glass windows and wooden doors. She’s provided me with life, shelter, happiness and experience, yet there she went. A mere mortal, lived a mortal life to its fullest. 

I remember that day clear like the glistening waters of the Caribbean shores. 

The sky was already dark at around 7 PM. Rain was pouring. I was having dinner at home, watching Netflix with my love, Annabeth. Estelle went to have a sleepover at her friend’s. I was having dinner at home, watching Netflix with my love, Annabeth, when I received an Iris message. The mist was fiery red, which was weird as it normally is just white. I put down my spoon and paused the show. 

“It’s an emergency,” Annabeth noticed, “only gods can call on the red Mist.”

I frowned and motioned for the Mist to proceed.

“Percy?” at the other end of the Mist was no other than my father, Poseidon, with doubt and trouble all showing in his frown. He didn’t look like the usual young, confident-looking Poseidon I knew; he looked old, fragile, even hurt. His face full of worry and pain. He ordered with urgency, “Percy! Your mother is near Death’s grasp. Get to the hospital, now!” It took me a second. Then I heard Annabeth’s loud gasp of shock, and I snapped out of my stupor. With absolute fright, I grabbed Annabeth and ran out of my door into the pouring rain, we rushed to the hospital. 

Annabeth and I stood on my porch shivering from the pounding rain. I blew a loud whistle into the gloomy, stygian sky. In a heartbeat, wing beats were heard just above me, and my faithful pegasus, Blackjack, stood proudly in front of me. Despite all the rain, drooping his mane, he still stood regal with elegance.

“Sup, boss,” Blackjack whinnied, as Annabeth and I mounted him.

“No time for funny business,” I sternly said, “get us to Bellevue Hospital Center, now!”

“Yes, boss.” And into Nyx’s embrace we went.

Blackjack flew high up into the sky. The rain splatter into our faces. Annabeth was shivering in my arms and so was I, but I didn’t have so much mind to even care that I was cold. I was not cold. I was thinking about mom. Thinking how she could be dead by now and I would arrive just in time to see her lying in the sick bed motionless and soulless. Thinking how many times mom has been through this emotional roller coaster I am feeling right now for every time I went out to fight the damn monsters and battles. Thinking how I have not been grateful enough for all the times she had looked after me and been patient with me. I try to be a good kid, a good son, but I always had doubted myself, even when others tell me how great, how brave, how heroic I am. Sometimes, life really gives me lemons. Life is always testing me if I am worthy, if I deserve to live, if I am trustable. It is so hard. Expectations are high, results not as high, self-esteem keeps getting lower. What is it again? My mom’s dying? Oh, pfft, I’ve been through worse. Except, I haven’t. I have never and will never feel anything worse than losing mom. There are three most important characters in my life: mom, Annabeth and blue food. Losing one is suffer, and that is what’s happening right now. I cannot believe it.

“Yo, boss, we’re almost there,” Blackjack whinnied as we started to descend. 

“Okay, thanks, bud,” I thanked. I put all the thoughts that has bothered me this whole trip aside. Annabeth was still shivering and so was I. The cold was getting to me, so was the worry.

“It’s okay. We’re still together,” Annabeth guaranteed in a hushed tone. I tensely nodded and hugged her tighter.

After we said bye to Blackjack and watch him fly off, we rushed into the hospital. Since mom got changed rooms after the last time I visited, I didn’t know which room she was in. So, I needed to ask the front desk. Once we got to there, I slammed my hands on the desk, which had startled a few nurses and patients, but I didn’t care.

“Where is Sally Jackson’s room?” I questioned with rage and anxiety, which most likely intimidated the nurse at the desk.

“U-uh, um, are you her relative-”

“Yes, I’m her son.”

“This?”

“Is my wife.”

“Oh okay. Um, lemme look it up...” as she went through her files in that slow-ass computer, I tapped my foot with impatience, while whispering “faster, faster” under my breath. Annabeth held my hand which was still on the desk. It calmed me a little, but I was still impatience with anger. “Room 401.”

I ran off without saying thanks or whatever. I saw the stairs right ahead, so I pushed through the door and dashed upstairs with raging speed. Thoughts came and go in my mind, but I was holding onto one: mom. I needed to see her, even if it was her final breath. I needed to see her every last living second. I needed to be with her. Tears formed in my eyes as I climbed four steps a time up to the fourth floor. 401 should be the first room. Finally, I reached the fourth floor and burst through the staircase door. All the people who were in the corridor look my way as I zipped down the corridor to the first room, which was on my right. When I got there, I grabbed onto the door frame and swung in with the momentum of my body. Once I saw her bed, I braked to a stop, which almost ruined my ankle. 

There she was. As beautiful as ever. Lying is her bed with her whole body hooked onto life support. On the left of the bed was dad. He was leaned over in his chair with his hands supporting his head. His face was full of concern, yet full of understanding as well. Poseidon has lived through enough centuries to know what it feels like to see a mortal lover pass away. On the right of the bed was my step-dad, Paul Blofis. He was on his knees, holding onto mom’s hand. He had tear stains all over his face onto his neck. His glasses were foggy from tears. Mom must’ve had heard my footsteps, because she turned her head from Paul and looked at me. She still had that smile hung on her face. The smile that had brought me from tears back to sleep; the smile that had made me understand what motherly-love is; the smile that had made me love her so much; the smile that reminded me of home. 

“You left Annabeth behind,” she whispered, when I heard footsteps and panting behind me. I turned at saw her all sweaty and leaned over to gasp for oxygen. 

I chuckled, “sorry, Annabeth.” She just waved her arm, indicating me to go do me.

I turned back and walked up to her bed. Mom patted a spot right beside her waist. I went and sat. Her condition was terrible. Her skin was pale; her eyes sunken into their sockets; lips pale-grey; hair - well - she had no hair anymore, her arms were skinny, only skin over bones; her whole body was thin, too thin. It was a painful sight.  In front of me was not an unattractive female; not an ugly person; not a sick-to-the-bones person; but my loving, caring, funny, amazing mom. In front of me was the person who had guided me to a way of light; the person who had taught me how to love; the person who understood me all the way; the person who loved me, even when I was different. I love my mom. 

“Percy, my good son,” she took my hand and I held it, “I remember the day you were born crystal clear like the water. You were a big boy. You weighed 6 pounds, you know that?” she breathlessly chuckled, I chuckled, too, “it was such a pain giving birth to you. Your father was there,” she look at Poseidon. I took a second to look given I was extra emotional. “Poseidon stood next to me and held my hand when I squeezed. After painful hours, you arrived to the living world. The nurses had to wash you off, but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t do it. I had to hold you in my arms to make sure Mr Immorals-Like-Me-Doesn’t-Have-Time-For-This saw you,” Poseidon smiled, with guilt, “and when he saw you,” she looked at me with those lovely eyes, “he grinned from ear to ear. He said he already sees potential in this little boy. One day he will be a leader to heros. He will be highly accepted in his world, where demigods and gods appear at. I believed him. I still do,” she took some shallow breaths and continued, “now look at my boy. All grown up. He’s a man now. A leader, just like Poseidon said. You have a lot in front of you, Percy. Your path is bright, even though what you went through was dark as hell, oh my gods,” she did a cringe face and I snorted, “but you still made through it, that means you will conquer anything as long as you believe in yourself. Right there, in your heart,” she strained to raised her arm a little, just so she could signal me to put our hands to my chest on top of my heart, “and you, darling,” mom said as I slowly put our hands down, turning her head to Annabeth who was balling next to me, “need to take care of my boy, Percy. He can be a brat sometimes, but I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to stop him-” “Mom!” “Figured.” “Annabeth!” “It’s true!” mom matter-of-factly stated, “and, Annabeth, you are the best girl I can ever ask to be Percy’s wife. I am so proud that you and Percy have made it all this way from the beginning to the end, you two have stayed together. Keep being awesome!” mom turned to Poseidon, “oh, dear, you have been such an amazing man, or god, I suppose. Everything about you is great. Although you have not been there for most of Percy’s life, you have made him as powerful as the waves and as courageous as the horse. Y-yeah, horses are cowards sometimes, but most of the time, they are brave and proud and elegant. I am probably just another mortal woman you have fallen in love with, but I promise you I’m more than that,” mom gave him a warning look and laughed it off, Poseidon grinned and scratched his beard, mom turned to Paul, “my love, I think I have told you everything I need to tell you, so whatever I say will be repetitive. You are exactly my dream man. I love you to the edge of the universe and back. Since the universe keeps expanding from the beginning until now and it’s still going, you know my love for you is infinity. I have so many things to thank you for and I think I’ve already thanked them all already. Every conversation with you reminds me of how we met every time,” mom started tearing up,” I love you, Blowfish, and I will forever more.” At this point, all of us have teared up, except Poseidon, because he is Mr I-Will-Not-Cry-Over-A-Mortal-Dying, although I can see his eyes getting bloodshot. Paul leaned in and gave mom a kiss on the lips. Tears were dripping all over his glasses. A loud sniffle came from Annabeth, “sorry, I must’ve caught the cold.” We all gave it a slight laugh. 

We sat in silence, remembering all the good times we had with mom. From day to night, from start to end, from young to old. We all know how much mom means to us and how much we mean to mom. The heartbeat monitor’s used to be slow-but-steady beats start slowing down even more. We all suddenly start panicking from losing mom.

“My loves,” mom whispered painfully, “relax. Dying is what makes mortal lives so precious. Some may say we live to die, no we don’t. Just like we don’t start a book to finish it. We get intoxicated by the storyline as the characters drive us on a roller coaster of adventures. We see, feel, touch with them. Mortal lives may be short, but if we live with excitement and story at our fullest, once we die, we die pleasured, with no guilt. I love you all. Just like you all love me. Keep being awesome, keep loving, keep growing...” with that, she closed her eyes. The heartbeat monitor continues slowing and an alarm begins to ring.

“Mom? Mom! No, mom! Wake up! Don't go!” I broke down in tears and panic. We were all panicking and Poseidon was slightly in fright, but still in his chair. Doctors and nurses rushed into the door, while we were all still in panic. Then, mass chaos began with nurses pulling Paul who was still shouting mom's name; more nurses pulling Annabeth and I away as we struggle in their arms, hoping to make our way to mom; and a couple intimidated nurses leading Poseidon from his seat. Doctors ran checks and scribbled things on their boards, while we were all still screaming mom's name, crying till our clothes were soaked. After a bit, a steady beep was heard from the heartbeat monitor. 

At this point, I couldn’t even hear myself or other people anymore. I only knew I was crying and screaming. Annabeth looked into my eyes with her sad, storm-grey eyes. She took my wrists and pulled me to her. She held me tight. Then all I could hear were loud beats of my heart. Annabeth squeezed me in her arms. All I could do was hold on weakly as I was barely able to even stand. She was talking to me, but I could only hear drowning mumbles and distinct screams.

Mom. I know you know this. I love you. 

7-1-20

Your good son,

Percy

photo credit: http://www.drawingskill.com/art/29757

[idkhyuck]

My First and Last- A Renjun Soulmate AU

A/N: OKAY SO I REALLY WANTED TO TRY MY HAND AT A CHEESY SOULMATE AU BECAUSE I FLIPPING LOVE SOULMATES. idk if i hate this or not, feedback is appreciated and i’m going to post it in parts so this is only part one. I cried like a baby writing this so i hope i’m able to get the emotion i was trying to convey across. A Song i recommend listening to while reading are Berenstein by the Band Camino. just to get a feel for the longing and need. 

RENJUN x SOULMATE!READER

WARNINGS/ ANGST, MENTIONS OF MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. 

I remember the day I turned 18 I used my ID to go to see a  Soulmate fortune Teller. All of my friends went out drinking with their soulmates. They all met theirs young. My best friend Julia; Met hers when she was 7 Charlie moved in next door and they met each other and cried because they were freaked out at what was happening.. Meeting you’re soulmate is a huge thing. You live you’re whole life waiting for this. They both can’t tell me what they felt because they barely remember it. Julia said her heart started racing and her eyes blurred out and refocused.  Usual cliché shit, The dilated eyes, the heartbeat. I just knew there had to be more to it.  Imagine spending most of my life with Julia and Charlie who can’t live with out each other. That’s another thing. Apparently being away from you’re soulmate once found is physically and emotionally painful. Old people often die in pairs because they can’t handle the pain of their lover dying. My parent’s are so hopelessly in love it hurts. Everyone around me is in love. I was a hopeless case. I honestly thought all of my teenage years I didn’t have a soulmate. I was meant to live this hopeless lonely life all my life and never know the feeling of “true love”. It sucked because kids never wasted time dating because you’ll find your one, someday. I’ve read tons of books and stories of people choosing who they fall in love with. I longed for a world like that, until I went into that fortune teller’s shop.

“I can tell you three facts about you’re soulmate.” She told me as she sat me in front of her. She looked at me, through me? Idk it was a weird experience.

“He appears older than he is.” She said. How much older could he be? I wondered to myself. I hoped it wasn’t a gross age gap. “He’s adored by many people.” Adored? Like by his family? Friends? Or like famous? “He will die shortly after you meet.” What?

“a-“ I started

“of course It’s a bit foggy, but this is what I see right now.” She said as she blinked her eyes back to herself?

“die?” I asked

“oh my dear, That’s how life is sometimes, you are a strong girl, I know you’ll be okay.” She said. It’s been 5 years since then. I now know who “he” is at the age of twenty three. I’ll never forget the moment I saw him. I was watching some music videos with my friends, They were discussing the differences of K-pop groups. It was a usual night at the dorm. I was 21 years old and in my third year of my degree. I was a business major, so I was always swamped with homework. I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were playing on the TV, I heard this voice and I Just had to look up. There he was, My soulmate. My heart started racing, I felt nauseous, My eyes could only see him. I wasn’t overcome with emotion like many say you’re supposed to be. But like it was as if someone had turned off the entire world around me and all I could see and think was SOULMATE. I blinked a few times, I’d finally lost my mind. This Korean boy was my soulmate. How? This can’t be. And he was going to die. No. he couldn’t, I wouldn’t let him. If I never met him he would never die right? He was the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen, My entire being literally throbbed upon the thought of him dying. I don’t even know his name. I looked up

“y/n? you okay?” Julia asked

“uh, yeah. Who is this group?” I asked, I just noticed how shallow my breathing was, My voice sounded so ragged.

“are you sure you’re okay?” Julia asked she sounded far away, as My soulmate had just started singing again.

“who?” I asked, my voice was tiny. I lifted my shaky hand up to point at him on the TV

“HOLY SHIT! y/n?” Julia said coming over to grab me. She knelt in front of me. “That is your soulmate isn’t it?” She said trying to hold my hands that were vibrating. I could see the other girls now intrigued, The video paused on him now. I looked up and it hurt to look at him, it hurt but I couldn’t pinpoint where, or why. Wtf the was happening to me. I tore my eyes away to look down at Julia, I nodded. “oh my god.” She whispered. awhile back I had told her what the Soulmate fortune teller told me, She was waiting for this. We had plans to move to LA after graduation with hopes of finding my soulmate in the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. That was the first night it hurt to be away from him. I spent the months after researching soulmates. They were still such a mystical thing to us as humans. Apparently there were studies of long distance soul mates having phantom pains. That would explain the why my body constantly ached. I watched how hard he worked, I grew to love his music, I picked up on the Korean so easily, the Chinese was something to be desired. I grew to love him, and I didn’t even know him. Studies also proved that once someone acknowledges their soulmate the other is able to feel it even If they haven’t met yet. I often wondered if he felt me. I know he’s dreaming of me. That’s a huge thing there are so many stories of one-sided love lorn soulmates longing to get to theirs but can’t at the time. Like when you pass on a busy street or something like that The one who doesn’t know often had dreams of their soulmate until the day they meet. There’s so much we as a human society know about soulmates. I was now apart of this society. I had my soulmate. The one thing that the fortune teller had wrong was he’s actually not old. He’s currently 19 years old, She got that wrong. I hoped and prayed she got the other thing wrong. I’d lie awake at night longing for him, I did not expect that. I cried myself to sleep many a night because it physically hurt to be without him. Julia was living her happy life, Sleeping with Charlie every night, Kissing him, feeling him, being near him, Getting to spend the rest of her life with him. As much as I longed for him I didn’t want to meet him, If I never met him he’d live his life out. How can the one person in the world that is meant for me be so ill-fated because of me. I was his harbinger of death and I hated it. I’d rather live my life never knowing him than to have to lose him one day.

 Despite my constant protests, Julia had convinced me to come spend the summer in Seoul. She hated seeing how much it hurt me to be without him. He had to be looking too she said. He was in the middle of a comeback right now so there we’re lots of promotions and shows around town. I saw a few billboards with him on it. I really didn’t have a plan, I wasn’t going to stalk him, he dealt with that enough. So after I got settled in at my apartment, I spent a few days a week at the café in his companies building. So many girls dreamed of meeting their favourites here. They’d pass through at some point right?  A few weeks passed with no luck, but today was extra busy, The staff had begun to know me at this point, My favourite staff was working today, She always let me use the Staff bathroom. I had just ordered my coffee and put it on my table I had taken out my book for the day when the urge to pee hit me. I went and asked her and she gave me the key. I was walking down the hall it was passed the room where the idols would film their things. I was kind of anxious today and I didn’t really now why. It was bugging me, I didn’t want to leave early, They were supposed to be here today. I splashed some water on my face and went back out, I locked the bathroom door behind me and heard a gasp behind me, I instantly felt chills throughout my entire body. I slowly turned and saw him standing there, I swore I blacked out for a millisecond. I froze, my legs felt heavy, My heart was racing.

“dreams. Y-y..” he said

“Renjun.” I said my voice shaky, I looked at him, he was getting paler by the second, I reached out to grab his hand, He reached out to me, our eyes never leaving the others once. The moment his hand touched mine, I felt every single emotion possible, relief mostly, pain, Pure happiness. I couldn’t help but cry. I didn’t notice I was crying until he reached down to wipe my cheek. My skin was so hot, his fingers cold to the touch. He was handling  this so much better than me.

“soulmate.” He said quietly

“y/n” I said quietly my voice shaky

“y/n” He repeated. “it’s okay.” He said and in the moment life honestly was okay. I felt so content just being near him. This is everything I could have ever wanted in life and more and it hurt me that I might not always have this would i constantly live with this fear in the back of my mind. I was sobbing at this point, He pulled me into his arms and held me there. Shushing and cooing at me telling me it was going to be okay. I had never felt more okay in my life than I did in his arms. I totally understand why Julia and Charlie were always holding onto each other.

“hey!” Someone said from behind us, The furious stomping, I looked up and saw Renjun had tears streaming down his cheeks too now. He wiped his eye with his sleeve and kind of hid me behind him.

“it’s okay.” He said in Korean.

“why?” The person asked

“she’s my soulmate.” He said his voice cracking slightly.

“what?” The person was shocked. “can’t be?” he said I peeked out and saw a tall guy I’m assuming was a body guard.

“bring her up to the practice room please?” He said wiping at his face. “She can’t go back out there now?” he said in perfect Korean. Wow I hoped I sounded like that when I spoke to him. “please?” he asked sounding small. The guard nodded. Renjun turned to me and started in English “he’s going to.” He started pointing all around “go up stairs with you.” He pointed at me and up

“I understand you.” I said my korean not as confident, his face lit up. “Are you sure this is okay?” I asked him

“I don’t know.” He said “I just know I don’t want you to leave.” He said “please go with him and wait for me?” He asked. I couldn’t say no to him, it hurt me to even think of ever hurting him. I nodded and followed behind the man. He silently led me through the back halls of the buildings. He opened a door and said

“wait here, they won’t be long.” He said “I’ll get you a guest pass.” He said then left. He returned not even a minute later with a pass “don’t do anything stupid.” He said then he was gone. I looked around, I’d seen these exact practice rooms so many  times on my computer watching him. I finally met him, He was so absolutely stunning in person, His voice was like it was made only for me to hear. He was perfect. I didn’t want to lose him, ever. I sat there trying to process everything I was feeling and all I knew was that I wanted to be in his arms again.

 He walked into the practice room, with a bottle of water and my coffee and book, How did he know, Was this a soulmate thing? I thought to myself.

“y/n” he said “how old are you?” he asked me

“23.” I answered.

“Noona.” He said taken aback, That was so cute, my health literally melted and flared up at the same time.  He came and sat beside me. “did you know?” he asked I nodded “For how long?”

“two years.” I said

“the dreams.” He said quietly eyes wide looking at nothing in particular then up at me “you’re even more beautiful in person.” He said reaching out to touch my face, Then shying away. “how are we supposed to do this?” he said thinking aloud.

“I don’t know.” I said “Please don’t be shy.” I said “it’s been two years.” My voice sounded tired and needy and I hated that he had that affect one me already. His eyes looked at me wide, The he looked down at my lips, Then he slowly leaned in, or I leaned in. I honestly don’t know. His breath mixed with mine as our faces were just centimeters apart.

“I think I love you.” He said before his lips met mine, The lightheaded airy, hot feeling that was rushing through my veins went into overdrive. I  reached up and held him behind his head. I wanted to open my eyes to see if there world really was disappearing around me like It felt like it did. Were we actually transcending into another universe together. Hopefully one where we could always feel like this. His arms wrapped behind me pulling me into him. I was going to pass out yet today I was sure of it. I pulled away much to his dismay, His whine barely audible. I looked at him, His cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and red, his eyes lit up like a galaxy. I looked down at his shaky arm that was wrapped around me. His breath was as rough as mine felt.  A smile came up on his face as he tried to steady his breath “Yeah, I definitely love you.” He said rubbing my back slightly.  “Where are you from?” he asked

“America.” I said. “I love you too.” I said, his cheeks flushed a little deeper at that.

“I feel like all of this is so backwards.” He laughed quietly laying his head back against the wall.

“When you have time we can go talk about whatever you want.” I said “I want to know you.” I said sounding needy again, I hated how easy it was to tell him this stuff. “I’ve spent two years only knowing you in here.” I said holding my phone up. I stretched my legs out in front of me and leaned back against the wall.

“come with me?” He said holding is hand out for me. I grabbed it, it felt like it was meant for me and only me, like I could never hold anyone else’s hand ever again. “I have the day off now.” He said laughing. We stood up and he led me out of the practice room to a stair case. I watched him as he walked up the stairs. He was so delicately beautiful. A few flights later we were on the roof, There was a bunch of lawn chairs and tables on the roof. He led me to a table that overlooked the city around us. I sat there and he sat across from me. He looked out at the world then at me. “wow.” He said. “I always wondered what it would be like.” He said. “Tell me how it went for you?” He said I explained the whole thing to him and how much it hurt me and how much I worried about him constantly and I was basically just pouring my heart and literal soul out to him and it was so easy and he looked at me with such deep expressions he was feeling everything I felt, he was real, this was real. as disorienting as it was to be here feeling all this at once It was so incredibly comforting to be near him, to be with him. He held my hand across the table, He’d bring it up to kiss it softly every now and then. I wondered if the intensity of his touch would wear off or would it always be like this. I wondered if he felt it this intensely too. “Tell me if any of this makes sense?” I said “did you feel me like they said you’re supposed to?” I said. Looking down then up at him. He looked at me his cheeks reddened.

“I felt everything.” He said “The first time it was insane, it wasn’t intense like everyone said it was.” He said “I just felt lightheaded and a little sick to my stomach.” He laughed “I thought I hadn’t eaten enough or worked too hard.” He said “it wasn’t until that night I had a dream.” He said looking at me in the eyes “I’ll never forget this first dream.” He said “I was onstage, crowd screaming, the guys around me. I slip and fall and everyone is gone, the crowd, the guys, the crew. It’s dark the lights are shining in my eyes. They couldn’t focus for a long time. Like you know when you take a picture of lights and they’re all glowy? Yeah that’s what my eyes were doing bouncing in and out of focus like that. Then I see something coming towards me from behind the light. I’m trying to hard to see what it is. Then I see, and it’s the most beautiful human in the world.” He said looking at me “I needed to get to you, I needed to be near you, I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t yell for you to come to me. I was opening my mouth and nothing was happening. You looked so lost. So scared, So alone. It hurt me. This dream haunted me for the first little bit.” He said “Then the dreams would change. I would be walking down this dark road trying to get to you. You were always just out of reach.” He said “not matter how much I wanted to get you I couldn’t In some of the dreams you’d tease me. You’d look right at me, through me and I couldn’t do nothing about it. I’d feel so vulnerable and lost in these dreams. In others I was just desperate” he said, His ears reddening. Desperate to touch you, and hold you and kiss you and hear you and Feel you.” He said “feel this.” He said holding our hands up “and so much more.” He said My heart was steadily pounding in my ears, I wondered if he could hear it, if he could feel it. I pulled one hand free and placed it on my chest

“can you feel it?” I asked sounding a little breathless. Was this him? Or me? Are we currently feeling each other? He swallowed hard and nodded placing his hand on his chest. “will it always be like this?” I asked him. “this can’t be healthy.” I laughed.

“I don’t know.” He said laughing quietly. “Tell me about you.” He said “I want to know everything.” He said looking at me, his eyes a glow. The sun was lower in the sky but not quite setting yet. It created a good afternoon glow. I started from birth and made my way up from there. He’d laugh like I was the funniest person in the world, His laugh was the most beautiful sound I’d ever seen. Everyone I was ever attracted to in life lacked compared to him. His boyish features, His soft eyes, I’d never seen true beauty until I met him in person. Our conversation came easy. We had so much in common, our childhoods were told as if we lived down the road from each other. His stories would bounce off of mine, or mine of of his, Our lives interconnected through these innocent memories where we had no idea we’d ever meet in this way, or at all. We were both lonely teens. He often wondered if he would be able to be with his soulmate because of who he became. He wondered if I saw him at his shows and he missed me. He’d always look into the crowd at his events. He’d look around at the airport. He was constantly searching for me because he felt like he failed because he didn’t see me when I saw him. He felt like he failed as a soulmate. He felt every ounce of sadness I felt when I was longing for him. He longed for me to find me and apologize. And he did apologize and it hurt to see him think he wasn’t enough. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him of the fate I was told of for him? Was that against the rules? Were there rules? He’d hurt enough already, I didn’t dare want to hurt him more let alone live without him. It could be wrong anyway.

“you’re sad.” He said looking at me worried, I couldn’t hide nothing from him now but I’d damn sure try and hide this for the rest of my life.

“you can never fail me.” I said. “ever. I hope I never fail you.” I said. “please always be here with me.” I said as tears started welling In my eyes

“I’ll always be with you now.” He said “we’ll never be apart.” He said reaching for my hand and pulling me up and towards him. He sat me across his lap. I felt so small in his arms and safe. and scared for him in this moment. I wanted nothing more in life than to protect him forever. He held me close to him, I could hear his heartbeat syncing with mine. His hands holding on to me at my hip, My one arm wrapped around him and I leaned into him. The nape of his neck warm, I kissed his pulse point and felt is on my lips, I hoped I’d always feel it there. The tears were falling steadily now. “don’t be sad.” He said to me in the softest voice. “you’ll be okay as long as I’m here.” He said. He had no idea what he was saying and how much it really meant to me, or maybe he did. “I’ll love you forever.” He said as he turned to kiss my lips softly. My hands immediately found his hair, I ran my hands through the ends as we kissed softly. His nose bumping mine. His hands holding onto me tightly. This kiss much more innocent than our last one but still had just as much of an effect on me as the first. My stomach was in knots as I tried to stop the tears and let him comfort me. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have come. His poor soul didn’t deserve me, I didn’t deserve him. His lips meeting my lips with growing intensity, his hands gripping me tighter, My breath coming in harsh breaths now as I had stopped crying. He kissed up my cheek and down again. I leaned my forehead against his, His breath cool on my damp cheeks.

[aglayalilich]

on some horror movies

a few months ago i got to see midsommar and though it didn’t quite do to me what hereditary did i thought it was a very compelling movie...shortly after, though, i was able to see the 2018 version of suspiria and wowwww did i feel some ways about that movie. i felt at the time that the two went very well together. so my friend invited me to see the director’s cut version of midsommar this weekend (still very interesting, though i felt the final cut was the right choice) and i decided i would also watch suspiria again and take notes on both. because i

wanted to articulate more why these movies work so well as a double feature for me, beyond ‘ah yeah there’s some girls dancing in it’ though certainly the role of dance and the climactic dance scenes are a part of it. there’s this structural similarity too in the final ritual acts. but like i was saying, it’s more than just a similar aesthetic. in fact the aesthetics are really in contrast, with suspiria’s bright red on desaturated colors versus midsommar’s blue and white on very lush, saturated backdrops. though they also do something similar with how color begins creeping into the character’s clothing in midsommar and of course many people have already talked about how the iconic red begins to creep into suspiria culminating at the end. really drastically different cinematography style also, midsommar is full of these long empty lingering shorts, all this wideness and slowness while suspiria is fast cuts, sudden zooms, races fromt he point of view of one character to the next. (sidenote: both have this GREAT visual language of mirrors, suspiria has the mirror room and dance studios and characters refracted a hundredfold, great for questions and multiplicity of identity. midsommar has a couple of really great scenes where one character is talking to another character but the second character is standing out of the shot and only visible in a mirror. ahhh so good. in general i wouldn’t say the effect of either movie is fear so much as disorientation--reflections, refractions, inversions. physical spaces impossible for the audience to navigate. images that the audience cannot arrange chronologically. i love it) anyway. this isn’t an essay so it is unstructured. i took about 10 pages of notes during my second viewing of midsommar and i can only understand about half of that because it was dark as fuck in the theater but i would like to at least ATTEMPT to give form to what i was feeling. comes down to 3 core similarities.

1. i read both of these movies as about abuse in communities that are supposed to be ‘safe.’ the community is a relief from trauma/abuse/horror of the outside world. there’s also a strong emphasis on the familial nature of this community. important to note that the community is genuine, it is not wholly a falsehood. it has a motivation beyond doing evil for evil’s sake, it may even believe the evil is necessary for the care of the community. this is a close and poignant topic for me, and i assume for other people as well, so it’s compelling to see it addressed in horror. it can be a great relief to see something as the subject of horror--that is an acknowledgement that it is horrific. a confirmation, an understanding, and sometimes through the resolution of the movie we can find stories that help us work through this.

2. both mostly focus on the horror of endurance rather than the horror of ending (death) which is a big thing for me in terms of my horror preferences. while i love some iconic monsters and killers ultimately the idea of ‘what if a fucked up thing killed you’ is just not actually that scary for me. what is scary for me is, yknow living in a state of unspeakable agony.

the olga scene in suspiria (you know the one) is a perfect example of this. every time you think that scene is about to be over it keeps going. and keeps going. the character is hurt but never killed, contorted impossibly, injured beyond the realm of what the human body should be able to endure but she is still alive. even when the scene finally comes to an end she is still alive! hard for me to articulate this scene if you haven’t seen it--i am very pleased and excitable about body horror and it was still rough for me purely because of how long it feels. in a sense this scene doesn’t even really end because much later during the climactic scene of the movie she is still fucking alive and has been in this state for the entire duration of the movie.

with midsommar it’s less of a body horror angle and more...dani living with all her pain and grief. but it’s done physically as well--being killed suddenly is not so horrible as being kept alive, the climactic horror is about a very prolonged, painful death. the dance scene doesn’t take it to suspiria levels but there is still a sense of the participants having no choice of when to stop, but simply must keep going in exhaustion until they cannot.

3. i really love how both of these films show pain (and other emotion) evoked through motions and breath. this one is harder to articulate. you know a lot of the time in a movie you will see an act of violence but it’s pretty...shallow, it’s just the image of violence, it has no weight to it. you don’t feel it. not so in these movies. it’s hard for me to articulate exactly how a piece of media goes about accomplishing this or not but often it makes the key distinction between things i think are just fine and things i really love.

these two have a really particular way of showing pain. in a very literal sense, there are incredible portrayals of bodies in physical pain. but there’s also dani’s raw screams of grief at the end of midsommar’s intro (and at other points throughout the film.) she is in too much pain to speak, all she can say is no, the leaked script describes it as ‘it’s so intense that it looks painful, dangerous even.’ on a slight digression i often feel  like i dont love ari aster the way a lot of people do but the thing i really truly do love and am awed by is the portrayal of this raw horrible grief pain in his films. it is so horrible it is very difficult for me to see and that is a little part of why i can never watch hereditary again. but anyway

sometimes pain robs us of thought and of language. (the movie knows this, the aforementioned prolonged painful death at the end of midsommar is one in which the character involved cannot move or speak). at a certain point it cannot be articulated through words. so these characters, the films themselves, articulate their pain (both physical and cosmic) through dreams, sighs, movement, screams.

sometimes pain seems too much for any one person to bear. this is when the movies come back around to the topic of community. both films emphasize the community as a body, made up of the individuals who serve as its cells or organs. when one part is hurt, the whole body feels the effects. more than that, the things too big for one human to possible feel are instead taken up by the community, felt by the larger body. volk is danced by one body, expressing the feeling not just of its creator but of the body. in midsommar we see the community take on in unison the feeling of one member, dancing or screaming as one (though i’ve seen different takes on whether this is to positive or negative result.) the body is formed and expresses itself through motion and breath, the dances, the sighs, the rhythmic exhalations which are all both precise and instinctive.

there is also something more i can’t say here about...not pain but the desire for someone to understand your pain, the desire for true connection.

i tried a few times to write about why this is a topic i fixate on but it didn’t feel right. to summarize ill just say that i struggle deeply with the ability to express pain.

now, on horror and the working-through of trauma...i said earlier that it is compelling to see these topics addressed in horror. horror is the main genre of any media that i enjoy and though i like other things, i don’t generally seek out anything that doesn’t have some inclination towards horror. this has always been the case but grew more true the more, uh, fucked up my life became, and i find it generally the best mechanism for thinking about (and not necessarily but sometimes coping with) grief and trauma and pain in all its forms. other people have written extensively about this, articulated it better than i could, there’s not really a need to get into it further than that.

but i’m thinking about one thing i’ve seen recently...(actually two things, firstly, some posts that seems to imply horror movies never tackled trauma before ari aster started directing which is just...quite a take, quite a take.) it was shots of ending scenes from a few horror movies, including hereditary and midsommar and also suspiria...i think the vvitch also and maybe also possession or something you know all the movies bitches with ptsd love (i’m bitches.) shots of the protagonist’s faces in the ending, a certain expression both rapturous and dissociated. there was something in the way i saw some people respond to this that made me think a lot...i think the idea that through great overwhelming trauma we can reach a point of ecstasy, or total transformation, is a very compelling story. it is something i have wished for often or even believed will happen--that there will be a certain point at which it really is too much and beyond that will be something different. some rapture that you will reach. not necessarily something positive but something that isn’t pain, that is beyond pain and horror. the idea of reaching divinity through great suffering is nothing new of course. but.

the true horror of endurance is that this is not going to happen. there is no point at which there will be absolution or ascension. the mirror does not shatter. it just keeps going. when you think this is the limit, it just keeps going.

the nice thing about movies is that they have a structure, and though they might leave you altered, they do end, the screen goes black. comfort of darkness, relief of endings. a sigh...

at least, that’s how i feel right now.

[fandom-trash-xl]

Little Drabble Fic: Silver

His entire body hurt.

Ever since Frost had been humiliated by the Arcosian he thought he could trust, Frieza, he had been training his body to its limits non-stop. He needed this training if he would be able to even hold a torch to Frieza's power. He needed to be on the same level. He needed to be golden. 

And he wasn't going stop until he was as metallic as his older parallel...

But, his constant regiment was painful. He no longer had the luxury of resting his aching body properly. He trained and trained, even if his muscles were sore. 

This time, he was so out of sorts, he finally collapsed under the pressure. 

His breathing was shallow and he could hear his heart in his ears. He couldn't move his body off the ground. Even if he had unlocked a new form, he had no strength to activate it.

How was Frieza not in this constant pain?

Frost let out a panicked breath at the thought.

Maybe he wasn't meant to be golden.

Maybe Frieza was way beyond him.

Maybe he would always be second. He would always be the second-rate dilettante.

"N-no..." He assured himself. "That's not true... You're trying to get yourself down again. Snap out of it!"

With shaky limbs, he tried to pull himself off the ground. His palms were already bruised and littered with bleeding cuts from the cold hard ground. "No matter- what happens..." He tried to recite his personal motivational mantra to himself amidst his pained groans. "Never give up... Get back on your..." As he was nearly upright, familiar footsteps interrupted his process, causing him to collapse once again. "Ah damn it!" Frost cursed. 

The steps had a familiar sound to them. They were slow and methodical and let out faint metallic clinks from steel toes and heels on the boots. The boots of the legendary assassin... Hit. 

Frost's day was about to go from bad to worse. 

"Oh, what do you want this time, Hit? Here to look down upon my suffering again?"

The assassin's gaze met the weakened Arcosian's down to the ground. "I've never done that, Frost. I've only looked down on you from a physical standpoint."

"Oh, haha. Very funny." Frost sarcastically replied, rolling his ruby red eyes. "Just tell me why you're here."

"I was out on my lunch break." Hit simply responded with a shrug. "I just couldn't help but overhear. You make a lot of sound for a fugitive trying to blend in. It's a wonder I've been the only one to notice."

Frost's anger seemed to subside at the thought of lunch. "Any leftovers?"

"No, Frost."

"Worth a shot..." He groaned.

"But, I do have something for you. A suggestion... Come with me... now."

"E-excuse me?"

"You are clearly in no shape to hold your own. You're wounded. You're a shell of your prime. Come with me so you can rest properly. I can't let your condition kill you before I get the chance to do it myself."

"I-I-" Frost tried to force out a response and force himself onto his feet.

"I understand, you can't move." Hit proceeded to grab the crippled lizard with one arm, to his surprise. His body was light and scrawny enough for the assassin to carry him like a handbag. "There. Now, it shouldn't be far from here."

Frost sighed. This made it all worse. He was already having self doubts. Now, he had to depend on this assassin to keep himself alive. He had to rely on a crutch in order to avoid death. Frieza, on the other hand, depended on no one. He even told him personally.

"That is... never to trust anyone... ever."

And, where was Frost now? Trusting in this filth. He had been handed the key to success and he couldn't even turn it. 

He cringed at the thought, closing his eyes tightly. 

His internal doubts were right. He was the second-rate dilettante. He'd always be. He couldn't do a thing about it. 

And he couldn't stand it...

A suddenly heat flash came over him. He assumed he must be inside a building with a heating system to contrast the icy cold of the city.

Until he felt Hit's grip release suddenly, sending him falling onto wet gravel...

His eyes sprung open to see that they had not strayed far. A distressed and clearly startled Hit was staring back at him with eyes wide. It was an emotion he had never seen displayed on the assassin's face. 

"What's wrong?" The Arcosian asked. 

"Uhh, Frost, I hope you can forgive me dropping you so suddenly, but, I'd like to ask. H-how long have you been able to do... that?"

"Do what, Hit?" Frost looked confused. "I don't think I did anything, though I do kind of feel a bit flushed..." He reached up to feel at his forehead and biogem, in case he had come down with something, but he noticed the change in his arm first. "Wait, what?!" 

His hand was the same ocean blue as his biogems and the rest of his arm had a silvery plating. "H-Hit... what is going on?" He panicked. "I'm not supposed to be-"

"I think you should take a look for yourself." Hit fumbled through the discarded items along the side of the alleyway for something reflective. He found a small trashed and battered compact, wiped the grime from the mirror on his pant leg, and presented it to the Arcosian. "It's not the best, but you should at least be able to see what I'm referring to."

Frost's eyes immediately widened at what he could see of his reflection. "T-this is..." His appearance was strikingly similar to the Golden Form he had admired. Of course, his form was more slender than Frieza’s due to his more starved physique. Where Frieza had purple, he had the cerulean of the gems on his body. The most notable difference was the lack of a gold sheen. “This is Frieza’s form...”

“I guess so...” The assassin discarded the mirror. “So, what am I supposed to call... this?” 

“Well, he called it Golden, but...” There was a catch in his throat. “That’s obviously not going to work here.” He further studied his metallic plated arms. “I-It’s all wrong. I’m not supposed to be silver! I’m supposed to be gold! I’ve unlocked this new form, but I’m still the silver medal. I’m still second-rate...” His silver aura began to flare in fury.

“Hey, cool it, Frost.” Hit eased the Arcosian, in fear of him losing control. “You may not be gold, but that doesn’t mean that silver is bad.”

“Of course it is!” Frost growled. “It means I’ve lost to Frieza!”

“Sure, you aren’t on his level, but think of it like a silver medal or trophy. You’ve still won, you’re still on the pedestal above the rest. You just have room to improve. Frieza’s already set his limit by going for gold. Sure, you may be a second-rate dilettante, but you have the room for growth that he’s eliminated.”

“So, in a sense I’m better than Frieza, but worse than Frieza at the same time?”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Hit turned. “Now, I should be-”

“Wait!” 

“Hmm?”

“You said I could come with you.”

Hit rolled his eyes. “You have your Silver form now. You can take care of yourself.”

“Oh, on the contrary, my dear assassin. I’m still injured, you know.” Frost dangled his arm limply. “My bones are so weak and brittle, I could just die...” He taunted. “Before you get your big chance no less...”

The assassin sighed. “Fine...” He turned back and took the weakened Arcosian on his arm.