#its got screaming and spoken word and several minutes of silence before a guy says something

[anotherpapercut]

if anyone wants to listen to this playlist and give me feedback on the order and my song choices that would be very cool <3 it's only 10 songs

[ismokechurros]

misunderstandings - ao3

When his mark first appeared, he hated it. He was five and didn't quite like that the first thing he would ever hear his soulmate say would be

"I'm sorry."

What did that mean? Would his soulmate hurt him? Would that be the very first thing they did? That can't bode well for a long term relationship. 

Besides that depressing thought, another issue he had with it was how common it was. People apologized every day, how was he supposed to find her?

His first mistake was thinking it was his kindergarten teacher, who apologized after he ran into her feet. It was hard to explain to his parents why he got sent to the principal's office on his first day of school, hugging a teacher's leg and professing your undying love for them isn't exactly a common offense. 

After that, he tried not to get too excited when he heard those words. And as time went by, he succeeded. Slowly, his head stopped shooting up everytime someone near him apologized, his heart rate stopped skyrocketing when a passerby said sorry, he grew to feel the general disdain and doubt most feel in accompaniment with apologies. 

Those two, meaningless words scrawled at the top of his right bicep were left ignored and he went on forgetting they existed for the better part of 17 years.

----------

She was five when her mark appeared, too, though that seemed to be a common age for the mark's development so she wasn't exactly surprised. What she was surprised by was the 

"You're okay."

now sprawled on the bottom right side of her neck. An odd place for an odd mark. 

In her five-year-old indignation, she resented the fact that her mark was telling her what she was. She could be not okay if she wanted to be, who was her soulmate to tell her that she wasn't! 

A stupid fight to pick, and one she dropped after about two minutes. That was how long it took before the girl next to Nancy screamed and then started crying. Apparently, Amy didn't like that the first words her soulmate would say to her would be asking for her starbucks order. 

Nancy decided it could be worse.

---------

Working at The Claw can't be that bad, Nancy thinks as she enters the restaurant for her first day at work. She needs to get her mind off of her mother's death and making a few bucks in the process couldn't hurt. Plus, it would help ease the financial burden of college- if she still stood a chance of getting in, that is. Her senior grades (and attendance rate) weren't exactly "Columbia Material", no matter how good her essay was. 

Walking from the door to the back room, Nancy makes sure to take into account everything she sees on the way. Two truckers eating greasy cheeseburgers at the counter; a woman drinking coffee alone at a table; a family celebrating their daughter's graduation in a booth. Another reminder of the life Nancy won't get to lead.

Reaching up, Nancy rubs the side of her neck where she knows, under several layers of foundation, there's a reminder that she's okay. Her soul mark has grown to be something of a saviour for her these past couple months. A reassurance everytime it seemed her demons were getting a little too close to snuffing out her light, her crutch at her most debilitating moments. Nancy thinks, whoever her soulmate is, they must be a decent person if they’re able to give her this much comfort.

“Drew! Your uniform’s in the back, I’m not paying you to stand there and look pretty! You did enough of that in high school!” 

Ah yes, George. No matter how many times Nancy tries to proclaim her innocence, George refuses to believe she didn’t play a part in spreading the rumors that ruined her life in high school. And honestly, maybe she was right. Nancy may not have spread any rumors, but she definitely didn’t stop them. Maybe she does deserve George’s wrath. Besides, what’s another person added to the list of “People Nancy Drew Has Failed”. George can go right under her mom. 

At this rate, she might need to put more foundation on her mark.

“Now, Drew!”

Eh, she’ll do it at lunch.

-----------

One month in and Nancy thinks she’s got the job down pat. She’s at least doing better than some people. 

Dishes clatter in the kitchen as pots hit the floor. 

“Oops! Sorry!”

Speak of the devil. Nancy goes to the kitchen to help Bess, because Bess has needed nothing but help since the day George gave her the job, but when she opens the door she's met with a peculiar scene.

Bess, the endearing clutz she is, is on the floor trying to pick up the pots but somehow making a bigger mess. Ace, on the other hand, is just staring.

Nancy hasn’t known Ace very long, hasn’t even talked to him directly, but from what she’s seen he’s at least helpful. He cleans up after himself, stays late to do inventory, cleans out the grease traps, all without complaining. Yet here he is, staring at Bess on the floor and doing nothing.

Nancy wants to call out, ask why he isn’t helping, or at the very least say excuse me on her way to help Bess collect the pans, but oddly enough she can’t find the words. She just stares at him with that confused look on her face. 

It seems she doesn’t need to say anything, though. As if the question on her face was spoken aloud, Ace snaps out of his reverie and bends to help Bess. He’s smiling at her a little too much, and Nancy can tell where this is heading before he even opens his mouth. She decides to make a clean exit before she’s forced to watch him try and fail to shoot his shot with her royal waitress Bess.

------

Nancy just needs a minute. She needs a second to breathe. Serving her high school friends and having to listen to their patronizing and pitying tones while she can hear them laughing the second she turns around is not what she signed up for.

To make matters worse, she’s about one more rub away from her mark making its presence known and she doesn’t need the added stares today. She doesn’t quite understand the taboo of revealing your soulmark to others, but today may not be the best day to tackle generations worth of unnecessary forced modesty.

She rushes through the back door, the mocking sounds of laughter cut off as the door swings shut behind her. Apparently god isn’t on her side, though, because the second the door shuts, the freezer opens and Bess exits carrying boxes stacked a good foot higher than her. Boxes that topple over as she tries to close the freezer behind her.

Normally, Nancy would help Bess out. God knows she’s gotten used to it, and Bess is a nice enough girl that Nancy doesn’t totally hate doing it. But right now, the noise from the boxes is too loud and sounds suspiciously like laughter and Nancy can’t really breathe so she doesn’t think getting near the cold, thin air of the freezer is gonna help her.

And so she ignores Bess’ apologies and pleading eyes and instead barges through the backdoor, hoping to get some much needed air in the alleyway behind The Claw. Instead, she faceplants into a cotton cladded wall.

“I’m sorry.” 

She maneuvers around the person she ran into, avoiding eye contact and desperate for some space. She reaches the wall across from the door and puts a hand on the cool brick hoping it’ll help ground her. Leaning forward against the wall, the other hand immediately goes to her neck.

“You’re okay.”

Suddenly, struggling to breathe is less of an issue than not breathing altogether. 

Nancy slowly turns and stares at the man who she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Ace slowly blinks back.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. Nancy can’t really respond, considering the fact that she can’t breathe.

“Woah, Nancy. You don’t look so hot.” Great, my soulmate thinks I’m ugly. Nancy urges herself to use her actual brain for a second instead of whatever it is she’s using now because obviously that one isn’t working.

Still, she says nothing. Ace takes the silence as an invitation to lean against the wall across from her. They continue to stare at each other; her like a deer in the headlights and him entirely too mellow for someone who just found their soulmate. Unless he didn’t.

That’s not a thought Nancy wants to have. But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop thinking about it. Does it work like that? Can the whole soulmate thing go unrequited? Some memory escapes the precipes of her mind, a brief chapter on soulmate history she had to read for class. It was her senior history class, so she didn’t really pay attention, but she does remember reading something in there about a rare percentage of the population that had one sided soul marks.  She also remembers thinking about how sad of a life they must lead.

And it's not like she's wrong about this, especially since Nancy’s heart feels like it’s about to explode and she instinctively knows the only thing that can calm her down is standing there, staring at her with glazed eyes.

“Want one?” Ace asks, materializing a blunt out of seemingly thin air. “They always help calm me down.” 

Now the glazed eyes make more sense. Nancy reaches for it without thinking, the brief touch of their fingertips as the weed changes hands works wonders for calming her down. She is finally thinking a little clearer, breathing a little easier. She stands taller and some of the tension escapes her body.

“See? Works wonders for the nerves.”

If he wants to attribute her abrupt demeanor shift to his weed, she won’t correct him. Instead, she thinks about how this is the first real time he has talked to her. She wishes it happened sooner, his voice reminds her of waves crashing on the shore and when he talks she thinks she’s found her happy place. She’s never hated herself more.

Taking a hit, she passes the blunt back to him and relishes in the little contact that brings about. How lame is it that she’s pining for a guy who is destined to be with someone else. 

“You seem more relaxed now, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m here.”

She does. She wants to talk about how she feels more  at ease and safe with him, here in this alleyway, than anywhere else; how she hasn’t felt peace like this since her mom died; how he has a calming effect on her that she wishes she could use like a drug; how she’s scared it might become one.

But she can’t talk to him about that at all, because she knows that though her soul finds peace with his, his soul fits better with someone else's. She doesn’t want to guilt him into any half-assed relationship, figures it would be better to become his friend and get to experience the safety and comfort he exudes at a safe arms-length away.

Instead, she talks about the ways everything has gone wrong in the past year (she avoids bringing up how he could have been her first right thing in a while). He listens as he smokes through the whole blunt, his eyes getting heavier as she continues. She’s confident he won’t remember anything tomorrow, thankful she won’t have to explain her near-meltdown. But above all-else, she’s sad. She really is doomed to go through life alone, she doesn’t get anyone to help shoulder her pain. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

When she finishes her sob story, he thanks her for sharing it with him. She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid of what she might reveal if she opens her mouth again.

“DREW!” An angry George calls from inside.

“That’s my cue.” She makes to leave but is stopped by an arm on her hand. She tries to ignore her heart screaming.

“Hey, I really liked talking to you. We haven’t really done that before.”

She nods, trying to make it seem like she just doesn’t want to talk and not like she physically can’t (not while he’s touching her).

He doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he stares at her with more consciousness in his eyes than she thought he would be capable of by now. 

“You’re not alone. I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to hear that.” His voice is soft and quiet and warm, low tide at sunrise.

Nancy’s eyes widen (though her heart warms) and he let’s go. She heads inside without another word, hand rubbing her neck on the way in.

Nancy decides to invest in neck ties.

[their-destinys-writer]

Miraculous Ladybug Writer Zine: Once Upon a Season

Yes, yes, this is suuuuper late. But I still want to share it. This is a Lukanette fic I wrote for the @mlwriterzine last year. For this zine, I had the honor of being one of its mods, same as one of its writers. This one was especially special to me, because it’s a zine fully dedicated to writers, which is extremely rare, and the final result was astonishing. Huge thanks to @emzurl for making it possible.

The Start of a Song

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Rose squealed, watching the crowds enter past the security fences. “I’ve never been so close to the stage!”

“I know,” Juleka responded in her low, raspy voice. “Totally rad.”

Rose let out another squeal, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and dragging her inside. Although there were plenty of bands playing during the Summer Music Festival, there was no artist more exciting than Jagged Stone. To which Kitty Section got tickets for in advance.

“Don’t go too far!” Luka called out, but the two girls were already out of earshot. He sighed, as a hand landed on his arm.

“I’ll help keep an eye for them,” Marinette said next to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out, too,” Mylène said, coming up the other side with Ivan. “I think it’s a little late to be right in front of the stage.”

“We’ll still be pretty close,” Marinette shrugged. “C’mon, we should get close before it fills up!”

A hand wrapped around Luka’s wrist, as she dragged him towards the crowd. Meanwhile, Luka looked at their surroundings, and couldn’t help but notice something.

“Is it just me, or are there a lot of couples in this concert?” Marinette said nervously next to him.

“Huh, I hadn’t noticed,” Luka responded, as nonchalantly as possible, pretending he hadn’t just noticed the exact same thing. “I do see a lot of people, though. Anyone of us could easily get lost. Speaking of …”

He craned his neck in search of his sister, luckily finding her mere meters away. For the third time that day he reminded himself to not get too distracted by the girl still holding his wrist. As grateful as he was that the other two couples encouraged a romantic relationship between them, Luka would never want to put Marinette in an uncomfortable situation. Especially when he still didn’t know where she stood on that notion.

Instead, he tried his best to make sure his sister didn’t wander off, like he heavily suspected she would try.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just making sure nobody gets lost.”

“That’s gonna be hard, Ivan and Mylène already said they’re going to the movies after this.”

Luka frowned, turning to her. “When did they decide that?”

“They told me just before you and Juleka arrived. They didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, no.”

It’s a setup, Luka instantly thought. It wouldn’t be the first time they tried leaving them alone in hopes that something would happen. However, he knew better. As much as he wished something would happen, at this point, he was starting to lose hope.

The music started, and the crowd screamed. While everyone else was concentrating on the stage, Luka couldn’t help but divert his eyes to Marinette, with her arms raised as she cheered. A smile curved his lips as the image of happiness brought joy to him. With one last wistful sigh, he turned to the stage and started cheering himself.

Jagged Stone walked into the stage, joining his bandmates with a guitar solo. The screams were louder, and the crowd started pushing to the front, every fan hoping to be closer to the rockstar. Luka tried looking at Juleka’s way again, but his vision was cut by several screaming fans. 

An elbow hit his back. He turned just in time to watch a large, tall man about to push Marinette out of the way. On instinct, he grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Wah!” Marinette squawked, as she was pulled into Luka’s chest.

“Sorry,” he said, with an apologetic grin. “I figured you’d prefer being pulled than pushed towards me by that guy.”

Marinette glanced at the man now standing where she had been two seconds before.

“Oh,” she breathed, her cheeks acquiring a light shade of pink. “Thanks, Luka.”

A light caress down his chest sent shivers up his spine. Luka swallowed a large gulp before grabbing her shoulders again and turning her in the direction of the stage.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss the show,” he said.

Marinette’s attention was quickly diverted to Jagged Stone, while Luka attempted to get his cool back. While he had never been secretive about his feelings for her, something about this day felt different to him. He shook his head, in an attempt to send away the thought. He had already learned keeping hopes too high could lead to unnecessary disappointment.

And yet, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Luka continued looking at Marinette on her toes, craning her neck as far as she could above the heads in the crowd. As amusing as it was, the young man couldn’t help but feel bad. He tapped her shoulder, catching her attention, and made a gesture of holding something over his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Marinette asked.

“I can take it,” Luka shrugged, kneeling down. “Come on, you’ll see better.”

Although she hesitated for a moment, she quickly agreed when the crowd cheered over something she didn’t get to see. As Luka rose back to his feet, he stumbled momentarily, prompting a squawk from Marinette while she wrapped her arms around his head. Luka couldn’t help but laugh, almost losing his balance again.

“I’m gonna fall!” Marinette cried dramatically.

“I got you,” Luka assured, holding tight to her legs. “See, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

The young woman’s arms relaxed as she let out a sigh of relief. After several minutes, Marinette seemed to have forgotten her previous fear and gained comfort from her position on his shoulders. Unfortunately for Luka, the part of him that was not internally giddy for being so close to the girl of his dreams was regretting his decision.

Thick droplets of sweat started running down his forehead and back with the added weight, plus the scorching summer heat. Yet, he was resolute in keeping his stance. The concert was only one hour, after all.

* * *

The crowd let out its last scream as the lights turned on around them, signaling the end of the concert. Although Luka had gotten used to the weight already, it didn’t stop him from almost letting out a whine of relief when Marinette was back on the ground.

“That was awesome!” she squealed, as she made a twirl to look at him. “I’ve never had such an awesome view to—Woah, Luka, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” he panted.

“You’re sweating like crazy.”

Luka swiped a hand over his forehead. “Huh, look at that.” He pulled his hair back, in hopes to refresh his forehead. “Nothing a cold drink won’t fix. Right, Marinette? Marinette?”

She seemed to not hear him, her eyes trained on something above his eyes.

“Marinette?” he called again, loud enough to catch her attention.

“Ah! Sorry!” she squeaked. “Yeah, you’re hot—I mean, it’s hot! It’s very hot, something cold sounds great. Yeah, totally. We probably gotta move, where are the others?” Marinette asked, scanning the crowd.

“Dunno,” Luka muttered, searching for his phone. On the screen appeared a text message from his sister. In it, he read: 

Juleka: 

Sorry, we lost you in the crowd. Gonna go for some ice cream with Rose. Thank me later! ;)

He gulped. “They left already.”

“Without us?”

“They went on their own date, I guess.”

“O-Oh,” Marinette stammered. “I see … So, what are you going to do?”

“I—” He had been about to say he was going home. But it still felt much too early to do so. And he didn’t feel like spending the rest of the afternoon alone. “I think I will go for a walk.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was silence. Probably caused by Marinette’s usual indecision about saying what she wanted. Something Luka could already sense and decided to do the work for her.

“Marinette, would you like—”

“Can I join you?” she asked at the same time as him.

Luka blinked, this being the first time she barely hesitated to take the initiative with him. With a soft smile, he responded: “I would very much like that.”

* * *

After several hours and one stop for iced coffee, Luka and Marinette were walking by the edge of the Seine, lost in a melody of joyous laughter.

“Wait, you didn’t!” Luka exclaimed.

“I swear I was the only one who saw it,” Marinette laughed.

“And here I thought I was so sneaky, too.”

“Well, to be fair, I did make the costumes. I think it’s a given I would notice when there’s a piece missing.”

“It’s a good thing that show was not recorded,” Luka chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t want us going viral over a wardrobe malfunction instead of the music.”

“I don’t think it would’ve been so bad if it had,” Marinette responded in a sing-song tone. “Even if that had happened, it could’ve helped boost your popularity as a band. Especially with such a cute guitarist.”

Luka’s eyes widened, dead staring at her. Marinette seemed to have noticed what she said one second too late, for her cheeks turned dark red instantly. Lips pressed together, as if trying to stop them from saying something else they were forbidden from. Luka did his best to still his heart, pushing all hope aside. Just in case.

“Thank you?” he said, attempting to sound as cool as possible. And slightly failing.

“U-uh, you’re welcome?” Marinette said, just as awkwardly. “I-I mean, not that that’s all I think of you. You’re than more such—I mean, you’re so much more than that. You’re a great friend. Notthatyoucanonlybeafriend. I mean.” She took a deep breath. “I meant to say that you’re a great guy, more than looks.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Marinette,” Luka chuckled. “You don’t have to try to fix what you say with me. I know what you mean.”

“See what I mean?!” Marinette burst. “With you, I don’t have to try to explain myself. You just … You just get me! It’s so comfortable with you. And nice. And wonderful. And…”

She went silent. Again, holding back. Despite the words already spoken.

Luka placed his hands in his pockets. “You know,” he said, with a light smile, “anything you want to say, you can say it. No matter what it is, you know I’ll always listen.”

“I know,” Marinette whispered. “Some things are just hard to say.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I too think you’re an extraordinary person. But you already know that.”

“I do.” She placed a hand on his forearm, softly pulling it. It took Luka a minute to realize she was attempting to take his hand out of his pocket. He obliged as discreetly as possible. When the hand was fully out, she entwined her fingers between his.

Luka’s heart drummed louder, wondering if this was a sweet dream, or if it was as real as it felt.

“I really do,” Marinette said, looking directly into his eyes. She opened and closed her mouth several times. “I-I … I, um, I wanted to, uh, I wanted to say—”

Luka placed a finger over her lips. “You don’t have to say it. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, you don’t have to say it.”

“I want to,” she insisted. “I know you always know what I mean. But … Luka, I like you. As more than a friend.”

The air trapped itself inside his lungs. His heart was about to burst out of his ribcage. A celebratory melody rang out in his mind. He then understood why she wanted to say it: hearing the words made a world of difference. It felt different than simply suspecting. It made it real. It reminded him why he had been so forward in the first place, when he had the chance.

The hand that was still trapped in his pocket slid out, landing on her cheek. Luka couldn’t contain the excitement the words brought. He could feel a wide grin paint his face, but he didn’t care if it made him like a goofball.

“You have no idea how happy those words make me,” he said, letting out a shuddered breath and leaning to her lips.

There was a clatter on a nearby car, snapping them both out of the bubble they had built between themselves. Turning to the source of the sound, they found Rose scrambling to grab her phone that landed on the hood of a car where she seemed to have been hiding behind. Next to Rose were Juleka, Ivan, and Mylène unsuccessfully trying to take cover.

“Oh gosh,” Marinette whined, covering her face.

Luka chuckled. “You guys are not very good with the sneaking and spying.”

“I was so close,” Rose lamented, as Juleka gave her girlfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry!” Mylène waved a hand towards them. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you guys!”

“This is so embarrassing,” Marinette’s muffled voice said.

Luka looked between their friends and Marinette. He smiled and asked, “D’you wanna run?”

Marinette raised her head, with her lips in the shape of an ‘o.’ Without a second thought, she eagerly nodded. Luka grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the nearby bridge to run across it. Meanwhile, the rest of Kitty Section yelled at them to return. 

“Where are we going?!” she panted.

“Wherever!” he responded, letting out a laugh. Marinette laughed too, just as eager to explore whatever it was that they had just started.

[crystalas]

It’s only a matter of time part 2

part 2 of a Monkie Kid fanfic wherein MK and Red Son are being trained by Macaque against their will. Trapped in a mountain dojo with the skillet and Bands of Guanyin keeping them prisoner the two have to work together for any hopes of escape.

warning this contains the fan theory that demons in LMK universe eat humans, painful punishments and well angst

Chapter two: Meal times.

MK was embarrassed to find that he had fallen asleep as he nudged awake by Red Son who was staring at the cell door, Macaque’s shadow clone was standing there with two covered bowls, two jugs of water and wooden cups on a tray in his hands. He knelt down and pushed them towards the two boys who looked at it with suspicion and disgust.

“One of the things I was commissioned to do was to break a certain demon boy out of some bad habits, so I have decided that while you train under me you will be on an au natural diet.” The clone declared. MK picked up the lid and to his surprise his bowl was full of several bits of fruit, handfuls of different nuts and seeds and to his revulsion three giant crickets.

“For Monkey boy a monkey diet, don’t worry I’m not stupid enough to give you anything you can’t eat” Macaque laughed as MK stuck his tongue out at the idea of eating bugs. Red Son looked extremely hesitate to lift the lid on his bowl but the clone did it for him.

At first glance MK thought that Red Son had just been given a raw shank of meat presumably pork, but then he noticed that the joint of meat ended with a hand…

“For demon boy, a demon diet of raw human…”

MK froze and stared at Red Son who looked like he was going to puke.

“I can’t eat this!” Red Son declared pushed the bowl away.

“Aw don’t worry its fresh”

“I don’t care I can’t eat this!”

“Tough!”

MK took a fruit from his bowl and was about to hand it to Red Son but gave a loud yelp as his skillet gave him a warning throb.

“No sharing, that’s the only warning you two are getting!” Macaque’s clone scowled, “and don’t think I won’t noticed if you try. I’m not called the six-ear macaque for nothing” Red Son turned his back on his bowl with a growl of indignation and stayed there. MK felt his stomach betray him as he took the fruit, he was going to give Red Son and began to slowly chew on it. he didn’t realise until he shallowed the first mouthful how hungry he was and quickly began to eat everything else. [except the crickets…no…not hungry enough for bugs and he really hoped he never would have to be.]

“Enjoy boys and try to get a good night sleep, tomorrow the real training begins” and with that the clone vanished into the floor.

MK looked at Red Son who kept his back to him during the entire time MK had eaten his meal not a single word was spoken between them.

“Red Son…” MK began but was quickly cut off.

“Yes, demons eat people, but I don’t, okay?” Red Son snapped his hair rippling with fire, “I don’t care if that might make me the laughing stock of the demon community I. Don’t. Eat. Meat!”

“It’s ok I’m kind of glad you don’t” MK said quietly, “I’m guessing vegetarian demons are unusual?”

Red Son gave a heavy sigh and MK could see him gripping the sleeves on his robe tightly.

“More heavily frowned upon… a lot of the old school demons don’t get that for us inner city demons we can’t just go picking up the nearest human to snack on without alerting police. So, it’s easier to just not to.”

“Wait…how did Macaque know about this? How did he know about your quote unquote ‘bad habits’?”

“I don’t know, just add that to growing list of ‘things we have no idea on’…” Red sighed he scooted himself so he was leaning against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. Another hour of awkward silence filled the air as they both tried their hardest not to look at the human limb sitting in the cell with them. MK decided that maybe the best thing to do was sleep, but despite curling up and trying he just couldn’t.

“It’s just a limb nothing to be scared of…” Red Son said suddenly after ten minutes of him trying to sleep.

“I’m not scared!” MK retorted. Well not scared of the limb, I’m scared of everything else going on but not that.

“Then why are you shaking?”

“I’m cold!” MK groaned “It might surprise you that cold stone floors do not make for good sleeping arrangements!”

Red Son looked at him before giving a weary sigh and scooted closer to him, MK looked at him as he put his hands out and a fire blossomed into existence. MK closed his eyes and the warmth seeped into him.

“If we are to get out of here, we need to work together” Red Son whispered “Which means I can’t have you dying from the cold.”

MK was already drifting off to sleep.

“You know…for a bad guy…you’re pretty nice…” he mumbled as he fell asleep.

Red Son looked at him before glancing at the limb then back to MK. Don’t focus on the hunger, focus on the flame he told himself just focus on anything but that…meat.

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

“Please. Wake up!” MK woke up instantly at the voice of Macaque who was standing there holding in a snigger, MK looked to Red Son who had fallen asleep and was resting his head on MK’s shoulder. MK pushed him awake and when he realised what he was doing sprung away as he had received an electric shock.

Another bowl of fruit, nuts and bugs.

Another bowl of human meat, this time it looked to be a mix of organs. MK didn’t want to try and identify what kind but he was pretty sure he saw a heart; he didn’t dare look at it too long in case it moved! Red Son turned away again clutching his stomach.

“Eat up, you have thirty minutes to be ready and then we are starting” Macaque declared coldly before walking away. MK couldn’t help but watch Red Son as he ate wishing he could do something that didn’t result in both of them rolling around the floor screaming for mercy.

They were led by a shadow clone under the same command of “Please. Follow” Back to the training dojo floor that they had wandered through yesterday, instead of the dark gloom the room was lit up but what looked like glowing glass orbs. Macaque stood there waiting for them.

“So, let’s refresh ourselves, shall we?” he said happily despite the death glares he was receiving from the two ‘students. “You do what I say when I say and you don’t have to worry about struggling to breath or having your skull crushed, are we clear on that?”

Both boys continued to glare at him.

“I said are we clear?”

They managed another beat of determined silence before Macaque got a very quiet “Yes…”

“Good from now on you shall refer to me as Master, got that?”

Another very quiet and strained “Yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes…Master” MK had to swallow back the bile in his throat as he did.

“Good boys, let’s start with the basics, shall we?”

And so began the training programme which started out with running laps, then lead on to push up, pull ups and squats. MK tried to figure out how many Macaques actually wanted out of them but it seemed that he just wanted to see how many they could do before they collapsed before starting the next one.

“I need you two at your very best for what’s to come” Macaque told them after the morning was over and MK and Red Son sat there trying to not drown in their own sweat and try to move their aching bodies.

“Which is?” MK asked wearily.

Macaque just smiled at him, and throw the two bottles of water which they chugged greedily.

After an hour break, they started doing combat excerise, to MK’s annoyance it was the same stuff Macaque had tried teaching him the first time he was his “Student”. Red Son was taught more hand to hand stuff rather than the staff maneuverers which made sense seeing as anything Red Son held would not doubt combust if he used it. After what felt like endless hours they were told to go back to their cell, they both just collapsed against each other too exhausted to move or talk. They only did so when supper arrived.

Another bowl of fruit, nuts and bugs.

Another bowl of human meat.

Red Son just curled up and tried to sleep off the gnawing hunger that had now settled in his stomach, he could smell the meat now even from across the room. He gave a flinch when MK sat down next to him gave a tired smile to try and encourage him, Red Son tried his best to smile back before igniting the flame to keep him warm.

Eight more days past each one where they worked and train till, they would nearly puke from over exertion and barely walk anymore and then they would just collapse in their cell afterwards. Eight more days of Red Son not eating anything and MK could see that it was beginning to take a toll on him as the fire he was making to keep him warm kept getting smaller and smaller till he couldn’t maintain it longer than a few minutes. His hair was turning a horrible shade of dark grey that reminded MK of dying embers and Macaque noticed he was struggling to keep up, but didn’t care.

It was on the ninth day of their ‘training’ when during morning laps Red Son crumpled to the floor. MK ran over to him to help him up when he gave a startled gasp. Horns seemed to be growing out of his skull, a tail now whipped around slowly and where there had been toes where now cloven hooves like a bull… Red Son tried to get up as his body changed.

“Red Son…what’s happening to you?”

“His glamour is wearing off which means he is basically at the end of whatever strength he has…” Macaque declared walking over to him and pushing Red Son onto his back with his tail. “The fact you can barely keep that spell going means you are on the brink of death, is the great Red Son going to die from starvation of all things? How pathetic” he growled.

“F…fuck you” he managed to wheeze, Macaque was not impressed and activated the bands. Red Son could only whimper as the pain rampaged through him. MK knelt down next to him and tried to support him to sit up.

“You’re going to kill him!” MK cried “Let him eat something!”

“I am!” Macaque snapped back “Not my fault he’s too stubborn to eat what’s natural to his kind!”

“Take him back to the cell, if he’s still alive tomorrow we’ll continue our training then” Macaque growled and walked off. MK just glared at him as he left the dojo before fighting tears and dragging Red Son back. He laid Red Son down on the floor, before looking at the bowl of human meat before kicking it away angrily. He grabbed his bowl of food and got out one of the fruits he had left that morning, seeing Red Son practically starve to death had killed his own appetite.

“Come on you can have this!” MK said gently, Red Son sat up and reached out to take it, only for MK to convulse and fall to the floor clutching his head. Red Son didn’t even have the energy to reach out to him but could only listen to MK’s screams of pain. He put the fruit back down and MK fell still whimpering as he held his head. Red Son rolled over and looked at the meat, he could feel drool dripping from his mouth and he gave a shuddering sigh as he took the bowl…

MK tried his best not hear the sounds of teeth tearing into flesh, or the wet crunch as bones were consumed. And he tried really hard not to listen to Red Son gag and dry heave after he put down the empty bowl.

[graceslavenderhaze]

all our friends talk { connor stevens}

synopsis: the midnight society is tired of their friends obliviousness towards each other only to find out that they’re the oblivious ones. 

authors note: theres a julie and the phantoms easter egg in this

“You didn’t think i’d bring us back on a school night did you?” Luke said with a mischievous smile on his face. The rest of your friends buzzing with excitement about the opportunity of being able to enjoy the glow dance now that the shadow man was actually gone, not just hiding in your secret boyfriends body. Yeah it had been a weird week to say at least. 

“and i still don’t have a date this time.” Jai complained as you all began to walk to your respected houses. You groaned. Gabby elbowed you in the ribcage lightly. You put your arms up, signaling surrender. Connor stifled a laugh as he walked beside you, looking up you gave him a quick and a wink before turning back to your friends. You weren’t subtle. 

“Jai stop acting like you’re the only one who doesn’t have a date, the only two people who have dates are going together.” Gabby said as she continued to bicker with Jai. It was comforting to know that things were going back to as relatively normal as they could be for now. 

“Wait Connor isn’t taking y/n? Aren’t they-” Seth was cut off both Hanna covering his mouth. “That is a can of worms that i do not have the mental will to deal with today.” She said uncovering his mouth once she finished. “None of us have the mental will on a good day.” Gabby said, which in turn cause you to swat her arm. 

“Yeah Connor are you gonna take y/n?” Luke asked as he mimicked your voice in the last part of his sentence to tease you both. You rolled your eyes. “I don’t sound like that.” 

“You kinda do, babe.” Connor decided to join in. You turned around and gave him a fake annoyed look. “That’s what i sound like?” you said with a sinister smirk, turning back to the group.

 “You guys know Connor’s ticklish right?” Connor’s face drops. Luke laughs in disbelief. Gabby and Hanna already know your next move, meanwhile Seth and Jai are skeptic. The group continues to egg you on. You jokingly lunge forward.

“I take it back.” Connor spits out. You take several steps forward. You shake your head. “Nope too late.” You lunge forward for real this time. Landing on his back halfway, Connor subconsciously hoists you up to make sure you don’t fall. This gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends. Digging your fingers into his ribcage to tickle him. He starts spinning you both around. Your friends are all enjoying the show. 

“Mercy! Mercy! You win this round!” Connor says out of breath. With a satisfied smile on your face you hop off his back, Connor leans over to catch his breath. He huffs a few times before swallowing hard then standing up straight. 

“I hate you. Absolutely hate you.” He says deadpanned. You let another satisfied smile break across your face, which causes Connor to break his deadpan. 

“You know you love me Stevens.” You say giving him a wink.  His cheeks flushed and he shook his head.“ Are we going to this dance or what?” You asked at your friends who were staring at you both. 

“Oh well we were just waiting for that to be over.” Gabby said with a smirk on her face as she stood next to Hanna. “Yeah you know the purely platonic display of affection.” Causing your friends to laugh. 

“Hanna Banana, Gabby Bear if you want some you just have to ask.” You said with a sickly nice smile. Starting to rush towards both your friends. Who in turn ran away from you. Connor had a smile that followed you. 

“We’re just friends, its purely platonic,  close friends can cuddle and calling each other babe and other names.” Jai said dropping his voice to impersonate Connor. Luke laughed instantly taking part in the teasing of their love sick friend. 

“teasing aside, if you don’t swoop on that opportunity you’re missing out on the best person to date in this town for like, ever.” Luke said being honest with his best friend. Connor laughed. How they had no idea how ironic this was. “Yeah man, I know.” You turned around slightly when walking with Gabby and Hanna, once you noticed Connor was looking at you, you turned back around. 

“You guys have Chemistry. Just go out with each other already. Or at least be each others date to the glow dance bare minimum.” Gabby said as the two of you walked in solidarity to your houses. 

“Why are you so fascinated in the status of Connor and I’s relationship?” You asked shooting her a look over your shoulder as you reached your house. Gabby gasped. “So there is a relationship!” You smirked to yourself as you walked to your front door, beginning to go up the stairs to your bedroom to get ready for the glow dance. 

After you’d showered and finished to get ready a knock at your window. You turned around to see Connor smiling through the glass pane. You shook your head and got up, opening the window once you were there. He crawled through and stood before you once he got inside giving you a satisfied smile. You shook your head and laughed. 

“Well don’t you look dashing.” You said in a posh accent noticing your boyfriends alter appearance, it was different from his everyday dark and leather james dean type appearance. 

“Close your eyes, you can trust me.” Connor said in mischievous tone. You furrowed your brows. “Sus as hell but okay.” hearing the ruffling of his backpack and the zipper open, hoping you weren’t getting pranked. “Open.” his voice was in a softer toner this time. When your eyes opened he held a red rose before you. Your heart melted at the gesture.

“Cliche i know but-” You cut his sentence off with a kiss. Both of you smiled into the kiss and then broke apart. “I love it and you.” You said as you took the rose from him. The smiles on both your faces never breaking. “ love you too.” Connor said. Both of your phones started blowing up with notifications from the midnight society groupchat.

“Do we have to go? We could just stay here, together?” Connor suggested and for a minute you actually considered it despite both of you already being ready for the dance. The best thing about having a secret relationship was that it was to for yourselves but the worst thing was that it was to yourselves. You were lying to all your friends. 

“Or we could just tell them, i mean we’re not subtle and they’re annoyed that we’re not together. All our friends talk about it.” You said spilling the word vomit that had been sitting inside your brain for weeks. There wasn’t one of your friends who hadn’t spoken their mind about your “friendship” with Connor, hell even Seth had said something at this point. Connor still stays silent, you reach for one of his hands. “It was nice to have something to ourselves in the beginning, but i think we have to come clean now.” You said looking right in his eyes. God his gorgeous eyes. 

“Yeah you’re right.” He says, you laugh. His brows furrow. “I’m always right Stevens.” You sassed back. “Ouch, princess.” he feigned hurt then winked at you. You crossed your arms and then went across the room to grab your jacket. After putting it on, you did a twirl. Connor laughed, “You looked amazing, like always.”  You shot a smile back and then opened your bedroom door for you both to leave for the glow dance. 

The walk to the dance wasn’t long being as you didn’t live that far from the school. You had walked their in comfortable silence with Connor, That was another thing that you liked, usually silence was unbearable with most people, not with him thought. It was still light out being as the sun hadn’t yet set. You knew you had no reason to fear the dark anymore now that the shadowman was gone but like salt in the wound it would still linger for a long time.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about the shadowman curse at first?” You asked your voice low as a woman walking her dog passes the two of you, shooting her a kind smile your attention goes back to Connor. His face goes slack jawed. “Did you think i wouldn’t believe you or not trust me?” You persisted on. 

“No!” He instantly strikes back, it takes you aback slightly. “It wasn’t either of those things.” He said almost insulted that you’d even think that let alone say them out loud. You stood there collecting your thoughts before you said anything. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me, you know i would’ve helped you. No matter what.” You said sternly as you stopped and stood in front of him. Connor looked down at you inhaling sharply and licking his lips.

“That’s exactly why i didn’t tell you. It was bad enough i was cursed the last thing that i needed was anything happening to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you and it was all my fault. That would be worse than anything the stupid shadowman could do to me.” While his words were screaming at you his voice was gentle. Connor hadn’t banked on dating in high school and finding someone like you just completely shocked him straight to his core. 

“Next time, you tell me. We go through it together. I’ve never cared about anyone the way i care about you. No more secrets, Alright?” Your words were the opposite of Connors, your voice was gentle. But your words were like water, warm, flowing and surrounding. “No more secrets.” He said picking your hand up and kissing it. You wiped a few tears that had fallen from his face with your remaining hand. 

“Still wanna go to the glow dance?” You said to him, honestly ready to turn around and go back to your house despite you both being ready and halfway there. “As long as you hold my hand.” He said flirtly, you squeezed his hand and you both start walking back to the school as if nothing happened. 

Once you made it to the steps of the school your hands were still intertwined and saw Gabby getting out of the drivers side of her moms mini van. You tugged Connor closer to you, turning he gave you a concerned look. “can you keep holding my hand, please?” you asked him, your voice soft almost airy. He nodded and kissed the back of your hand. “I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He muttered for the two of you to hear before you both walked over to Gabby. 

“Hey! You both clean up nice Connor, wouldn’t you think so y/n?” She said nudging you, she had yet to notice your intertwined fingers. You snickered. “I think Connor is well aware of how attractive he is, without any additional input from me.” 

Walking inside the glow dance looked identical from the first time around. Hanna and Jai with at the entrance table handing flyers out about her petitions meanwhile Luke had yet to arrive. Gabby, Connor and You had all gone to put your jackets away. 

“So did you are guys here as dates?” Gabby said leaning against the table that Jai and Hanna had claimed earlier. You looked back at Connor giving him a small smirk then turned back to Gabby. Connor slung his arm around your shoulder. 

“Why wouldn’t i bring my secret boyfriend as my date?” You said to Gabby, instantly her face light up with excitement. “Wait really! I knew it, Luke owes me twenty dollars.” Connor’s face screwed up. 

“Wait you guys were betting on our relationship?” Connor asked. Gabby nodded causing you to laugh. “To be fair i’m in a running bet for that slow social awkward train wreck.” You said pointing over to Hanna and Luke who were giving long stares to each other. “You should probably go wingman.” You said to Connor, he nodded kissing your cheek before going over to rescue to doomed conversation. 

“C’mon let’s dance, this is your limited time of freedom before your morning of formula’s and multiple choice.” You said as you dragged Gabby and yourself onto the dance floor.  After a few songs the rest of your friends had joined you in the small area in the gym Gabby and you had been dancing in. Towards the end of the dance, Hanna and you went to the bathroom.

“If twenty four hours ago someone told me we’d all be back here, i’d probably laugh in their face.” You said to Hanna as you washed your hands. She turned around nodding, “Yeah if my best friend turned secret boyfriend was possessed by a shadow demon, i wouldn’t have handled it as well as you did.” She taunted. 

“How was that rescue mission in the hallway earlier?” You said sarcastically. She uncrossed her arms grabbing the wet paper towel she used to dry her hands and throwing it at you. You screeched and then stormed for door. As you both reentered the bathroom you realized that the vibe had gone from upbeat the slow, which meant the dreaded end of the dance where the last twenty minutes was slow dances. 

Jai was dancing with the girl he had been talking to at the table when you’d first arrived at the dance and Gabby was dancing with a girl who had long dark braids and was dressed in an eccentric outfit with two armfuls of bracelets. You’d seen her around school before you had french class with her.

“And then there were four.” Luke announced as you and Hanna rejoined Him and Connor. “Nope just you two.” You said grabbing Connors hand. “Have fun kids.” Winking at them before going slightly off towards where Jai and Gabby were dancing with their dates. Connor twirled you around before you wrapped your arms around the nape of his neck and he wrapped his on your waist. 

“I like this.” He said his voice was soft and didn’t travel farther than your ears with the two of you so close. A smile broke across your face. “I didn’t think this was your scene.” You teased him your grip on his neck readjusted as your moved slightly closer inching for more of him and the more you held on, the more he held on as if you’d float away. 

“Anywhere you are is my scene, always has been and it always will be.” He said. Your foreheads were resting against each other and everyone else was wrapped up in everything else to notice you two in your own world. You felt yourself blush. 

“I always knew we’d end up here, we never were just friends. I’ve loved you my whole life. ” You spoke in a whisper knowing that there was no reason to speak louder than needed, you wanted these words for Connor and him only. 

“You’re being all cute and sweet, it’s making me want to kiss you.” He said blissfully, with a smile across his face. “You don’t have to ask to kiss me, we’re dating it’s part of the package deal.” You said giggling slightly, smiling Connor leaned in to kiss you. Neither of you caring about formally telling your friends anymore. After you pulled apart you heard several gasps you knew belonged to your friends.

“I guess they’ve figured it out.” Connor said as he noticed Luke staring at you guys on his right. You noticed Jai staring on your left. “Only took about a few months.” You said as you went in for another kiss. 

[circumstellars]

I don't normally do the writing myself, but this fandom is so quiet and lacks content, so I'm forced to write awful terrible ficlets to contribute.

General rating, Five & Diego, Elliot POV, Lila cameo. Happens after Diego is stabbed S2 EP2 and while he's recovering under Lila and Five's care S2 EP3. No more than 1600 words ish.

Inspired by this post:

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

The pain is immediate, the cramps are in possibly every muscle Elliott has. When consciousness hits him like a thunderbolt, it drops him into the middle of a tension-laced back and forth between... didn't they mention names? The aliens - er, his uninvited guests are muttering lowly not far away. The tightly wrapped gag has chafed both corners of his mouth and he can't seem to focus.

'You didn't untie him?'

A kid? Oh! The Kid. Elliott opens his eyes with a start and spots through bleary vision the (alien?) boy just a few feet away, looking unnervingly human and pawing at something on his neck. He looks unimpressed at the response he gets.

'Was I supposed to?'

There's a deep, exhausted sigh and before he can grab his bearings again, Elliott feels loosening pressure behind him. Two, Three, Four... Five! That's it! Shit - had he really stared them down the barrel of his shotgun? He should be dead it registers, but the thought is fleeting and broken by Five's weary voice; there's small, barely audible cracks in every few syllables when he says,

'The assumption here is that you will behave.’ Elliott snaps his head obediently just before the gag is loosened and the relief floods over the aches in all his nooks and corners. 'Put on some coffee: I need to think.' He can't see Five behind his chair just then, but his words sound far away, clipped short by a quick flash and the falling of dead air to replace him.

Elliott can hear the English woman fussing in the next room, and a quiet snoring from a third party, and he licks at the dried blood crusted in the right corner of his mouth. However his limbs protest, he gets up carefully anyway.

He doesn't know when Five plans on returning, but Elliott doesn't want to find out what happens if the coffee isn't finished when he does.

---

Elliott doesn't sleep that night. He isn't the only one.

It's well into the earliest morning hours when the third pot of coffee finishes brewing, and only just, before Five blinks into the kitchen to pour yet another cup. Elliott peers at him from his desk in the adjacent room, where Five has been keeping him busy monitoring his collection of radar equipment. Elliott hasn't the faintest what half these devices do, but the boy seems incredibly invested, and every little blip on his screens is scrutinised by Five immediately.

Elliott quietly takes a bite of cereal he's only half-interested in eating, and ever so carefully watches the boy in the kitchen over a few spoonfuls of tasteless granola.

Five looks eerily pensive. He's staring into the blackness of the coffee pot on the counter, and Elliott can barely see his unmoving figure, licked over occasionally by yellow light flowing in from where his wounded brother lay resting in the common room. In the quietude he can hear a pair of soft, twin snores float through the flat.

He has so many questions. They're bubbling up behind his lips but he is careful to say nothing until Five breaks his moody silence. Elliott doesn't think much of himself, but there are bits and pieces he'd rather maintain un-melted by an unpredictable alien teenager.

--

When Five does finally move, Elliott had long given up studying his motionless shape and was arms deep in rolls of labelled film canisters scattered about him. He nearly screamed when a deeply troubled sigh dropped in behind his ear and brought him to attention- he swallowed it quickly.

'You're out of gauze.'

He nods shortly in acknowledgement, his eyes following as Five leans his lower back into Elliott's desk and weaves his arms over one another tightly. The expression on the boy's face even in the dim lamp light from the next room looks stormy and blackened; his eyebrows are knitted deeply and however impossible it might seem his folded mouth looks like it belongs to a man four times his age. Elliott finds it moderately disturbing. It's another long few minutes before Five mumbles, barely audible into the dead air,

'Was he breathing? You know, when they got here,' and he's not looking at Elliott but even a hermit like he was versed enough in social interactions to pick up on the subtleties in Five's voice. The question was so steady and so calm, too calm, the kid's eyes too stony - his posture too impassive. Elliott's eyes flickered over to the opening of the atrium across the way.

'I didn't see much - I was um, you had me, you know,' he vaguely gestures to being strapped to one of the dentist chairs nearby. Five doesn't say anything, so he keeps going and drops his spoon into the bowl in front of him. 'But-but uh, the girl took care of it,' he says uselessly. 'The other one-'

'Diego.'

'-right, D-Diego, he didn't make much noise at first. I couldn't see what she was doing but she sounded... upset. Then the guy started screaming for bit before quieting down, I guess, until you showed up.'

Five's expression remains poker-still. Elliott swallows audibly. 'Mostly the guy--Diego--' he is quick to correct himself as Five's eyes slide icily in his direction, 'wasn't saying much, sort of gasping I guess, he sounded really hurt. Sort of just saying one thing really,' Elliott sits back in his chair, holding one hand with the other in hopes he isn't visibly quivering. He's fascinated by these newcomers, especially this one, but part of him can't shuck the thick layer of nerves that buzzes over his skin in Five's presence. It's almost like his body is scared of something his eyes aren't registering beyond the schoolboy shorts and preppy, embroidered blazer.

He can see the thin black line of Five's mouth part, so the rest rapidly tumbles from Elliott's lips: 'Kept saying, uh “Dad", a lot, or-or… something.'

WHAP.

He launches out of his chair at the sharp smack of a fist on the brittle wood of his desk. It shakes and Elliott shakes too, but in a rapid blink Five is gone from the room. What just happened?

He catches a shadow in the corner of his eye and moves to follow it out into the large atrium once more. The whole room is dark and yellowed by the single lamp on the corner table, and its casting bewitching phantoms on his dingy walls. Diego is laid there on his sofa, quiet in sleep save for a few stuttering wheezes that sound quite painful to Elliott.

'He's really stupid.'

Elliot exclaims under his breath and snaps his head toward Five. The boy is nestled in the darkest corner on this level, pressed up against the barrier across the way. He can't see his face, but can tell he's crumpled up into himself just as he was at Elliott's desk a moment before.

'I don't know how he made it to adulthood, quite honestly,' and Five says this gravely; he is quite serious. 'I can't believe how stupid he is, even now.'

Elliott doesn't know what to say. He says nothing.

Diego fusses in his sleep a moment before his breathing settles, encumbered but steady.

'He knows. He's voluntarily-purposely stupid because he knows.' Five sounds strained. His breath is loud enough to hear from several feet across the room; Elliott doesn't know if it's because the room is quiet or Five is loud. 'He must know on some level that I'm always going to come back to break his fall. Maybe they all do.'

For an extended moment, nothing followed Five's muted words. Elliott feels like a haunting in the doorway. He shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot. He doesn't know if Five is talking to him or at him, or perhaps neither, maybe he's already forgotten his harmless new acquaintance was still in the room completely.

Elliott is overwhelmed with unbelievable curiosity and debilitating ignorance; he doesn't know the first thing about any of these people, or their closely guarded secrets. He's not sure he even experiences the same reality as them, so he is not sure he understands Five's hum of suppressed anger - if it is in fact anger at all.

Suddenly, he wants to leave. The room feels smaller, more intimate and it's like he doesn't belong in his own living room. He doesn't know if he was meant to ask, but he does.

'So then... why?'

It's all he gets out, not a entire thought but at the same time a fittingly complete question. Why?

Be that as it may, he doesn't expect Five to answer. Elliott isn't sure exactly what he is to this kid--alien--person, or what purpose he is meant to serve here, but he is almost certainly sure it is not Trusted Confidant. He may very well be superfluous furniture to any of them, even in his own house.

It's an eternity before Elliott decides to pull himself away, escape whatever surreal little bubble is suffocating him in this doorway. The unadulterated exhaustion in his sore joints and bones is slithering up the back of his neck all at once.

He's suddenly startled by a hand reaching out from the darkness beyond the door. He's pulled an arms length toward what turns out to be the dark figure of The Girl, who raises a finger to her own lips. She doesn't speak and doesn't move, and Elliott stares into what features of her face he can make out in the poor lighting, but she's clearly already focused beyond him. Her expression is absolutely opaque as she looks toward the weak light spilling out of the main room doorway.

It's futile now, he thinks. He is certain they are completely out of earshot when he hears it - or maybe he doesn't, the voice is so incredibly fragile and quiet and young that Elliott is sure it belongs to no one in this house that he knows of.

Perhaps it was a pining spirit passing in the night, the sound of it’s longing confession diffusing instantly in the air as if never spoken at all.

'... It's because I love them.'

[bangtan-dreamland]

[3:58 A.M.]

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Word Count: 2564

Warnings: vague but heavy feelings of sadness, that’s all really

Rating: pg-15

Genre: hurt/comfort (could also be angsty fluff?)

Summary: Sometimes it feels too easy to just let go and stop... but they do their best to keep you present and alive.

AN: I wrote this in the span of 2 hours, the need to write what I’m feeling down and adding how I sometimes wish someone could comfort me like that inspiration to keep going and finish this. Unbeta’ed or however you spell that, don’t expect too much from a 4 A.M. piece please.

•·················•·················•

It’s nights like these that affect you the most.

It's when nights like these come that you fall, when the breath leaves your lungs and it feels hard to breathe, when the thoughts crowd your mind so noisily there is no reprieve to be found, when it feels like your heart is heavy, and you are plummeting, sinking, suffocating-

You could drown in everything and anything.

When nights like these come, you wonder why you ever let yourself stay up so late, aware of how vulnerable you can be when the quiet and the calm surrounds you. Wonder how the night can so easily affect you. Wonder why when you're finally alone and at ease with your thoughts does the heaviness come, leaving you breathless and dizzy, the simple task of existing becoming a task you aren’t sure you can handle. 

After all, you're sensitive. Not the kind of sensitive that easily gets hurt from a remark, no, you would be happy if that was all it was. No, you're the type to be sensitive to everything. The type to feel a little too much, a little too often. To feel for others even when it doesn't affect you, whether it be positive or negative. Hearing about abandonment in any form makes your eyes blur, and the congratulations of a win for someone pulls your lips to a smile. 

You wish you aren't so affected. You wish you could stand to be a little more detached.  You wish a lot, and you know they won't come true, but you wish anyway.

You try to take a long inhale, but the pain in your chest flares up and the air leaves you in stuttering gasps and wheezes. You whimper and-

You just-

You want it all to-

"... stop," you whisper, feeling a shudder rip its way through you. Lips that uttered a sound before remains slightly open. Your stare is empty, face blank and you feel numb to the core, even as your body is shaking, trembling. From what, you don't know quite know either. The lack of warmth you can feel in your body is telling, as if you're freezing inside out, but you can't find it in yourself to care. 

You should, though. Shouldn't you?

A distant part of you knows you should. But you can't bring yourself to listen and agree, to listen and obey.

It's so much more easier to stay still. As if by staying still, you could let the world pass by. As if by hoping, wishing enough, you could escape everything that made you feel.

Because-

Too much. Too much. Everything is too much, and you- you wish you could say you hate it, but even now it just feels like too much. Too much effort, when it's easier to abstain from feeling anything at all. Your heart feels so heavy, you desperately put what remaining effort you have to keeping yourself stable.

So you remain curled up on the floor instead, letting the heaviness of your limbs and your heart keep you rooted to the spot.

You don’t know how much time passes when the-

‘Ding!’ 

-of a notification breaks the silence.

Your stare remains pointed ahead with a blank stare, the bright light of your cellphone still oh so noticeable in the dim light blanketing the room. You wonder just who and why are you being messaged at what you last remember to be one in the morning, hazily. 

You could check your phone. It would only take a second to reach out and hold it in your hands. Probably a few seconds to read, and a minute to reply. 

You remain still as you are anyway.

Checking or even just touching your phone at all will tell the other person you’ve read their messages. And then they would demand a reply, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t they? You’re not in a state of being to bare yourself open. You’re not in a state of being either to care about anything but yourself. You don’t want to care about anything, to make any effort at all.

The room feels stifling and you feel tempted to scream or do something, anything- but as it is, you encourage yourself to just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. 

‘Ding!’

You wonder if it’s one of the boys. Wonder if it’s more than one. Wonder who it is if not them. You’d been talking to them before, hadn’t you? 

Still.

‘Ding!’

‘Ding!’

‘Ding!’

They’re persistent, you absently note, whoever they are. The sudden continuous dings of notification fill the void of silence present in the room. It’s annoying, and the constricting feeling in your chest is dark and gaping and it could swallow you up. 

You slump even more and try to focus on something else.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out-

You hear the door creak open, footsteps and heavy breathing coming from the doorway. Your gaze flickers from the floor, to the door, which you’re a little in front of-

Your eyes meet with Jungkook’s as he’s bent over, wheezing, brows furrowed and tongue pressed to his cheek yet again as it always is when he’s feeling emotional with something but can’t discuss it.

You blink, and wonder why he’s here. Wonder why he came at all. Was he the one blowing up your phone?

Even thinking feels too much of a chore at the moment though, and you opt to simply close your eyes. Not exhausted enough to slip into sleep’s grasp, yet no motivation or energy to do anything at all either.

You hear movement, and half-lidded eyes keep their focus on Jungkook as he stalks closer, the frown prominent on his face.

He calls your name, murmuring something that you can hear, but doesn’t register in your mind.

You feel… weird. Like if before you were drowning, now your body is floating, and you can’t quite keep yourself from drifting away. All you can do is blink up at him as he heaves a frustrated sigh.

Then-

Gentle hands slip under your frame, lifting you up, slowly, carefully, and you keep a blank stare as you let him cradle you to his chest like a princess, offering no resistance as you’re carefully brought over to what appears to be your living room.

A living room that contains six more men you do not expect at all to be present at this hour.

Still, a part of you hums, they’re here. And they seem more at home than you do.

The television is on, you notice. There is little sound that leaves the speakers, Taehyung and Jimin appearing to be choosing from the stack of CDs by your coffee table. Hoseok and Yoongi are building what might be a blanket fort, and you hear someone approach from the side- Namjoon holding several pillows and blankets as he makes his way to the duo.

A part of you wonders why they came, a little surprised, but mostly, even when you try to feel, it’s hard. It’s empty. You can’t even bring yourself to utter a sound as you just watch them go about their tasks, though you have no idea what or why or how.

The smell of cream and mangoes fill the room and you shift your gaze a little to the side, where Seokjin appears. A container of mango float is in his hands and you feel your stomach grumble a little. It’s only then that you remember you’ve probably only eaten one meal today, having let the numbness keep you ignorant to your hunger until it faded away. It’s not healthy, you know, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

As you’re submerged in your thoughts, you’re surprised to see in the meantime they have completed whatever they seemed to be doing.

The TV is on, the sounds low but still present, the light contained by what seems to be a huge blanket fot\rt that shows the shadows of six people.

You feel Jungkook shift you in his arms, taking a step- then closer, closer, and closer- until you’re brought inside.

The curtain of blanket is pulled to the side and you both enter.

You feel a spark of appreciation for the set-up that they’ve built. Heavy blankets that cover and give you space, spread from ceiling to floor, a lamp covered with star colored paper so that the light that passes through is shaped like so, the mountain of pillows that greet you both when you step inside. Inside, it seems as if the boys have specifically planned or at least talked about seating arrangements. There is an empty spot on the floor by the couch, though covered with thick comforters. An empty spot that on both sides are occupied by Jimin and Taehyung. The couch above it seating Yoongi and Hoseok, and then Namjoon to the furthest side- and then Seokjin on one of the sides. The mango float remains near and you wonder when he made it.

Jungkook places you in between Jimin and Taehyung, who you barely notice are looking at you with worried faces. Even as you let out a small huff at you finally being placed down, your head lolling the side a little as you let yourself splay on the couch, Yoongi gently guides your head to comfortably settle against his legs, a hand coming to draw your hair up and into his lap, as he strokes your head. Both Jimin and Taehyung come closer, arms drawing you to a cuddle, their warmth seeping into your cold body. 

The comfort is appreciated, really, but- 

Still, it’s hard to relax, even so.

Still. Still. Still, you know you should at least be a little grateful for the trouble they’ve gone through for this.

“... Why did you guys come?” When your voice leaves you, it’s a muted whisper, a thoughtless sentence spoken out loud that they barely hear. Still it’s easy to detect the change in demeanors that your words bring to the group, as their expressions change. In particular, you feel Jimin besides you stiffens. When he speaks again you can notice a little that his voice has a strained quality.

“You weren’t answering to any of our replies or calls, even though we were in the middle of talking… not to mention, how you’ve been acting the past few days. Just- we got worried,” he explains. Still the weight on your chest remains and you tell him quietly.

“You didn’t have to do that. It’s not like this isn’t the first time this happens to me.” Belatedly do you remember and add. “... Besides, I’ll be fine come morning.”

“Even so,” this time it’s Taehyung on your other side who answers you. “The fact that you’re feeling this way at all isn’t something we like. We want to help.”

You feel the gentle comfort of a blanket settle over you, a pillow below your head as Hoseok’s hands press against your cheek, and you lean into his warmth.

“Yah, you should’ve seen Jungkook run all the way over,” he huffs. “Holding his cellphone so tightly and all. Then again, I guess we weren’t any better... If anyone saw us they’d wonder where we were all running off to at three in the morning.”

Three. Had you been out of it that long…?

“Jimin was the one who noticed your silence- Taehyung suggested we come over and see if you were alright. Namjoon was the one with the idea to make a blanket fort, Seokjin thought you’d feel a little better with food and company,” Yoongi explains, his voice as he speaks settling a little in your mind. “Me and Hoseok are the ones who set it up, though, and Jungkook got tasked with carrying you into the fort after we made it.”

“I don’t get why you guys would do this,” your words are a murmur when they leave you. You don’t. You really don’t understand why they would do so much, hearing that they weren’t even sure if you were actually feeling how you are, or if somehow you’ve just fallen asleep or what.

The person who answers you then is Seokjin.

“We care about you.” The sentence is short and simple, but it says everything without hiding anything. He adds, “we’d rather we made an unnecessary trip and annoy you than not go and regret not being able to help when you need it. And even if you don’t right now… we hope it’s still something that will help.”

“If you want us to leave, we can leave right now,” Namjoon tells you, though the minute tightening in his face betrays his true feelings. “I know it looks like we’ve done so much already, but if it’s too much for you right now, we can clean up and leave you be.”

You feel a tug on your hand, and Jungkook’s doe eyes meet your own. You can plainly read the message he’s sending you. Let us stay and help, please.

Though, really. Inside the fort it is warm, and with the chill ever present in your body even you have to admit that it feels like it’s fading away with every moment.

“... Okay,” eventually do you softly assent, a shaky exhale leaving you as you let yourself slump into their hold, giving up control. You don’t have to look at them to see the pleased and overjoyed looks on their faces, choosing instead to cling onto the feel of their bodies pressed to yours, a solid comfort and reassurance that you are here in the present.

The night passes with movies you barely remember the plots of, ice cream and chips consumed and with a pile of trash as proof, the laughter and ever present conversations filling the fort. 

All the while, you feel Jungkook’s hands remaining on yours, fingers intertwined- Taehyung and Jimin’s bodies curled up around you, Namjoon’s calm tone contrasting with Hoseok’s chuckles, the others chiming in sometimes, their words flowing through your mind like a stream- Seokjin’s insistent feeding you of little bites of food, and then water- Yoongi, playing with your hair and occasionally giving little affectionate strokes and pats to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose-

Keep me grounded.

Don’t let go.

You feel yourself tethered by a single rope, seven threads woven together into one being. You do not plummet, you do not sink, you do not suffocate-

The pain remains but for once you have hope that this too will pass. Instead of letting the waves come and take you away, you let it wash over you and remain rooted to where you are instead, the comfort of hands holding your own keeping you from straying away.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but it is with the barest hint of a smile, and when you wake up- it isn’t as if everything is suddenly okay no, but-

But.

As the bare hint of sunlight peeks through the heavy curtains, yourself surrounded by sleeping men, hands entangled with yours, hints of smiles on all of their faces- at this moment, you feel a small rush. You feel alive, again. The worst has passed and you are ready to pick yourself up again, a little stronger, a little more at ease.

Tomorrow has come and you know you are not alone in your problems. At least, not now.

Hopefully not ever.

[daredevile]

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ​] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E  W E E K  E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T  M O N T H S  L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

[hadestownmodern]

Disowned

I’m in my young Demeter feelings again WHOOPS

-Danielle

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

            Demeter wakes with a start, her body shooting up out of bed. Her wild, untamed curls frame her pretty round face in disarray, and she shivers as her sweat-laden body hits the fresh air. It’s early, she can tell by the angle of the moon through her curtains, the times she’d woken in the same sort of state so many times before. Her rounded belly brings her comfort, but not enough; in the silence of her home she’s suddenly aware of just how big she is, how soon she’ll be welcoming a new life into the world.

            Alone.

            The word is unforgiving, relentlessly taunts her. It hangs over her head as she fights off the guilt of it all, the memory of slamming doors and shouting, of her mother’s tirade as she’d thrown the last of her things out the door of the quaint brownstone she’d grown up in. In these lonely nighttime hours it’s all she can hear; whore, useless, stupid…they’re the last words her mother had spoken before the click of the lock. Nineteen year-old Demeter had collapsed on the stone steps, looking around the neighborhood where she’d faced her life head-on. She and her mother had cried over her father there after he’d left them. She’d had her first kiss here, her first heartbreak. Her best friend had carried her here after a different kind of grief when she’d been betrayed by a clique of girls who’d been jealous of her big, bright eyes and infectious smile.

            This porch had been full of heartbreak. That rainy day hadn’t been much different.

            “Get out-get out of my house right now!” Her mother screamed, slammed her hand on the kitchen counter. Demeter flinched, one hand over her flat stomach, and flew from her seat. “What made you think that this was a good idea…before marriage? Before love?”

            “I do love him, mom, just not in that way. He’s a good guy. I think you’d like him.”

            “A good guy. Is he going to support you?!” She scoffs, whirling around the kitchen and tossing things onto the counter; a school photograph, a postcard from a school trip…all things that belonged to Demeter. The young girl does not move, watches as the pile grows larger. Her mother flies around the house as she shouts, tossing things into the kitchen with resounding thuds. “A good guy wouldn’t do this, Demeter. He wouldn’t. A good guy would marry you. A nice big ring…”

            “Marriage isn’t all there is, and,”

            “-Marriage is all there is when you’re nineteen and decide it’s a good idea to get pregnant. I should have never let you move out to that damn farm, your nana’s been filling your head with ideas since you were born.”

            “Nana had nothing to do with this.” Her voice is fierce. Even in her lithe stature Demeter is intimidating, fire coursing through her veins and searing her dainty features. Her mother stops then, stands the room’s length away from her and stares. The silence between them is palpable, mother and daughter, and Demeter holds her gaze steady and proud as her mother lingers over her unchanged stomach. “You know that nana loves us both, and even with dad,”

            “-Your father has no right to be mentioned in this conversation. And neither does his mother. She’s not alive anymore, Demeter, I don’t think you understand that. She can’t coddle you anymore. She can’t protect you.”

            “I’ll protect myself.”

“You’re not ready.”

“She left me the house!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re ready.”

“I’ll protect myself-and my baby.”

            “There’s still time, we can find a nice family who deserves this baby.”

            “And I don’t?!” This time it’s Demeter who loses her patience, irritation seeping into the usual smooth, evened tone of her voice. She throws her hands in the air, shaking her head at her mother as she simply nods back, a silent agreement. It’s all she needs to see to bring tears to her eyes, to break down the last wall blocking her vulnerability. She’d worked herself up in the car, had made up speeches and wordings that had brought along happiness she truly could only dream about. A relentless optimist; that’s what her mother had called her.

            A relentless optimist had sunken on the concrete steps, cried as the rain soaked through the old duffel bag her mother had shoved her entire childhood in. She had let herself take one last look; the quiet street amongst a busy city, the way each sidewalk paved its way to landmark locations she’d no longer see. By the time she got on the bus home, watched the city pass her by, Demeter looked like a new woman, all red eyes and sunken posture. She’d lugged her past with her, thrown it on the floor of the little farmhouse. She’d fallen asleep with both hands cradling her little baby bump in defiance-protection.

            She’s alone.

            The dream-living through her own harsh reality again-sends her into a state of rapid breathing and sudden panic. Seeing her mother again, the opulent house and the jewels around her neck, the trust fund money she liked to throw around to try and make Demeter happy…she squeezes her eyes shut tight in frustration, hoping to blink the image away. The days of the city are over; the ritzy private school, girls in matching uniforms who treated friendship like the stock market. Here, Demeter is happy. Here, she is able to breathe.

            Here, Demeter is alone.

            She runs ragged lines of footsteps around the tiny main room; living room, kitchen, rocking chair by the window and back again. She puts a kettle on with shaking hands and watches the fire of the stove for a minute, transfixed. Her dream had set a sort of numbness into her bones, leaving herself to feel like a child again, young and naïve. Too optimistic, too relentless, too impulsive, too kind; Demeter shakes the words away, runs her hair through long curls and attempts to jostle away the pit in her heart.

            Leaning against the wall, she holds her phone in shaking hands, slowly dialing the number that had been written on a messily torn strip of a paper bag. The voice on the other end is confused, groggy as he answers. It takes Demeter a moment to collect her own thoughts, to deliver them without choking on nerves or tears.

            “I don’t know why I’m calling.” She sounds young through her deepened alto, weaving her fingers in and out of the telephone cord. She lets out a dry, throaty sort of laughter. “I guess…I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, T. I don’t. I’m a baby, and I’m alone out here,”

            “Alone?” She can hear his trademark expression through the lift in his voice, his widened eyes and sideways smile. “You’ve got me.”

            It’s not presented as an offer, but as a fact. Theo lets her linger in the silence, listens to her unsteady breathing and the whirring of a kettle in the background. When the whistling grows louder, the phone drops and her footsteps are quick, clattering and brushing and her voice as she speaks to herself. The ragged nature of her voice has only increased when she comes back to the phone.

            “I know that I have you.” She chokes the words out, taps her fingers against the wall. “I have to go-uh-thank you, Theo.”

            Demeter sits in her big chair by the window, feet curled up as close as she can muster with the changed nature of her body. Her big nightshirt catches as her belly, which she cradles between her hands. Sleep is nothing short of a fantasy at this point, where her thoughts are filled with her mother’s stern eyes, her disappointment. The city had been kind to her for brief flashes of time; walking through the park as a child, hands in her mother and father’s. She liked sharing milkshakes with her friends, the freedom of public transit. But she hated the crowds, the people, the incessant talk of buying things that weren’t needed, spending unearned money on useless trinkets and fast fashion.

            She’d always followed her heart. She’d followed her heart to this house, with its old construction and its need for several paint jobs, the big, weedy garden her nana had tried so hard to keep up with her old age. She’d learned everything, sucked up all the knowledge she could before she’d had to say goodbye to the one person who’d supported her unwaveringly. Now, in her place of sanctuary, in the chair her nana had occupied every night, Demeter feels betrayed by her own memories.

            A knock on the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she turns her gaze toward the door to see Theo standing there, the nighttime darkness a backlight to his tall frame. He’s dressed in mismatched clothes, a pair of moss colored cargo shorts and a mustard yellow shirt,  one white sock and one yellow. He lets himself in, kicks his shoes off at the door and moves to stand in front of her. He takes her in; big shirt and curled up posture dwarfing her appearance, long hair a shield around her face. She looks up at him, the slightest quirk of her eyebrow as she takes a breath.

            “You were crying.” He says it simply, matter-of-fact. Demeter knows that she can’t hide from him, not when he can see the puffiness of her eyes, the forgotten cup of now lukewarm water and lemon on the side-table. New tears prick at the edge of her eyes, sting at the skin that has been rubbed raw from her sleeve, the back of her hand. She nods, looking out the window at the falling moon. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

            “It’s my mother.” She spits out the last word with disdain, frustration. “Did you know that you can just…throw your child out when they do something you don’t like? Because apparently, you can. And you can do it without feeling a damn thing.”

            Theo opens his mouth, hovers on a thought and then closes it again. She’s stiff in her chair, biting her lip and weaving her fingers through the holes on the chunkily knit blanket in her lap. These are mannerisms he hasn’t seen before, quirks so unfitting on this walking embodiment of sunshine and mischievous fun. It’s eerie, in a way, and he has to take pause to let her sink in her own feelings, to linger in the silence while her eyes search past the landscape outside, glossed over with an expression she attempts so desperately to hide.

            He lowers himself onto the low table in front of the sofa, one large hand on her knee. He keeps himself silent, runs his thumb along her knee, watches her hand trace careful, protective circles over her baby bump. Theo wonders in an instant how one person can look so vulnerable and yet so mature, so hardened by protectiveness.

            “She really threw me out.” Demeter’s voice is near a whisper, a whimper. She pulls the blanket closer to her chin. When she turns her head to face him, Theo’s breath catches in his throat. The depths of her sadness are written across every inch of her face-the wrinkle at the corners of her chapped lips, the redness of her eyes, the little strands of hair falling over her cheeks without the usual flustered brushing away. “She took all my stuff-threw all my stuff…put it in this big bag and locked the door behind me. Can you believe that? Said I was stupid. Talked about money, houses, rings…” She scoffs, shakes her head and uses the corner of her blanket to wiper her tears away. Then her voice dips again, quiets. It’s eerie, the even tone of it, and Theo has to lean forward to hear her as her face hardens.

            “She told me I don’t deserve this baby.”

            “You deserve this baby.”

            “But what if I don’t?” It’s not a retaliation to the stern tone of his voice, the way she answers him so suddenly. Demeter can barely think straight, her mother’s eyes still fresh in her dream’s memory, the disappointment behind them. It’s worse than being caught in her wild ways in high school, worse than her father leaving, worse than her own mounting fear of giving birth. Disappointment weighs heavy on her heart having grown up in a household where guilt was used as a bargaining tool. Now, it consumes her.

            “You have more passion for this baby than I’ve ever seen-more passion for everything. If you come across a problem you don’t just sit, you solve it. And it’s not the kind of fix that’s temporary. When  you go to do something, everyone knows you won’t stop until it’s done right, and it’s done proud.”

            He squeezes her knee as she relaxes a bit, sinking into the couch. The thin line of her lips has softened just slightly, just enough for Theo to take it as a cue to continue.

            “Demeter, you know this is how it was meant to be. When you believe in something, the world believes in it too. You mom….she’s in a different world. She doesn’t see you the way the rest of the world gets to see you. She wants you to be something you’re not and she can’t handle the fact that money couldn’t buy you the way it bought her.”

            He grabs her hands then, holds them over the blanket.

            “You asked me to help you have this baby weeks after we met. Not months, not years, weeks. And I agreed. Do you know why?” She shakes her head, and he lets out a laugh. “Maybe because I’m crazy-that thought crossed my mind a few times. But that’s just one thing. I agreed to do this because I couldn’t say no. I knew you-your energy, your light, your heart. I knew that you believed in this, and I knew in my heart that you could do it-I still know. I believe in you without a question.”

            “Theo…” She shapes his name but can not get her voice to come out, softened by his hands in hers, the way he leans his long body over and captures her with his honesty. She scoots over then, attempts to make room for him on the armchair. Although it is big it barely fits his tall, muscular frame. Demeter sacrifices her piece of the couch to curl herself into his lap instead, resting her weary body against his chest. With this comfort her eyes begin to drift shut, her breathing evening as she revels in the warmth of her blanket and his body against hers. Before she falls asleep, he can hear her soft whisper. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

[renatlia]

For Good

A peaceful silence hushed over the battlefield. It was won. However, the calm could only be enjoyed for so long before the scenery began to change.

Oh. It was over. Time and space were correcting themselves, closing the magical rifts that brought the group together. This was it.

Hearts sank watching the companions - brothers - around each of them fading away to their respective eras. Then, the transition seemed to pause midway. Caught halfway between the former battlefield and home, their surroundings looked strangely melted together. From the violent debris scattered along the ground, to the still eerily-dark sky, to the green grass beneath their feet, to the spectral-like figures of their friends.

There was no confusion on what was happening. The goddesses were giving their heroes the chance to bid farewell. Jaws clenched as emotions swelled and no words came to mind. Taking pity, Nayru cast her musical blessing on the silent protagonists, allowing them to express their feelings into song.

“I’ve heard it said,” the captain started cautiously, afraid to break the moment, “that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return.”

“Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true, but I know I’m who I am today because I knew you,” the smithy replied. He wasn’t too sure if he himself had made that much of an impact on the others.

The farmhand was finding it difficult to breathe, just like last time, but he wouldn’t say nothing. He had to speak, and by the grace of Nayru, he was able to. “Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

He was surprised to see his cub once again after his adventure was over, but he was stunned meeting the Hero of Time. If his wild child hadn’t been the one to explain to him what was happening, he would’ve thought he’d finally cracked.

The old man had noticed his recognition, but he never asked about it. Instead, he took well to becoming a mentor, and they grew close enough to share secrets. While he felt horrible about having to keep the fate of his mentor secret, learning more about his ancestors was like a dream come true. Becoming Wolfie was a lot easier with someone to cover your absence. After all, it wasn’t just the old man and his cub on this adventure. Being greeted by someone new wielding the master sword was not something he thought he’d see again, especially not the man who forged it.

It was the man’s protege that sounded next. He had a feeling he was about to experience loss in an entirely new way since waking, and he wanted them all to know just how much they’d affected him. How much he loved them. How he wouldn’t forget them. “It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime, so let me say before we part... So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart.”

Coming across a snarky, pantsless man was not as out of the norm as one would think. Someone completely lost and asking what the guardian carcasses were was. He helped the pink-haired man back to his camp. There he was assaulted with equally curious questions well into the night, especially once they recognized his sword.

They knew his name. He would’ve been suspicious if he didn’t feel such a strong sense of familiarity. He was almost afraid of the close brotherly bonds he was forming until they found the familiar face of an old companion. He knew then that no matter how much it would hurt in the end, he wanted to make long-lasting memories with these people.

“And now whatever way our stories end,” their eldest cut in, “I know you have re-written mine by being my friends.” To think, he and the mrs were just about to give up on having children. Now it was something they were looking forward to, and after having known these boys for the past several months, the old man felt slightly more prepared.

Contrarily, their youngest felt grossly unprepared. He didn’t know what he was going to do once the guys he’d grown attached to- lived with- fought together with... were gone. It was all too fast, and there was no new adventure or task given to throw himself into once he got home.

The young teen was choking on his tears. Through a watery and hazy filter, he could make out the face of a knight in shining armor, who he had been mentally referring as big brother, staring back at him in sad concern. No. That look wouldn’t do. The sailor needed to convey that he understood, that he was grateful to have this conversation, that he’d be okay.

“Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? But because I knew you-“ He shakily gasped to compose himself. “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t! He’s woken up in strange places before with no memory of how he got there. Looking around, he could see nothing but dark, rocky terrain. Okay, okay. He needed to breathe. He pulled out his compass and telescope.

Finding north, he started to slowly pivot with his telescope hoping to catch any sign of civilization. A giant blue gem filled his vision startling the boy onto his bum. Luckily, he’d met this blue-haired woman, though it had been quite a while.

This was going to be one heck of an adventure.

“And just to clear the air, I ask forgiveness for the things I’ve done you blame me for.” Whether the Hero of the Sky was asking from those listening or from himself was unclear. He knew he couldn’t hold on to the darkness eating at him anymore. The guilt he felt for causing an eternal struggle for so many in his future was met with bafflement by his friends. Even if he could be held partly responsible for ‘causing’ their curse, there was no ill will directed towards him. Alas, the Spirit of the Hero had a tendency for self-blame, so he would ask for forgiveness, if only to release the negative emotions he had trapped in his throat.

“But then, I guess there’s blame to share.” The Hero of Time took the opportunity to apologize as well. He knew his meddling with time had caused the drastically different outcomes in history the group had experienced on their journey together. And though there was always a chance of death, the fact that he was alive while another timeline suffered Ganon’s rule left him with a sour taste.

“And none of it seems to matter anymore!” The Hero of Hyrule could understand their guilt and thoughts of inadequacy, but what is done is done. They had done their best for all good intentions, and no one begrudged them for it. What mattered now was that his friends had to leave, and he would be alone. Having an apocalyptic world like he did, he had never really lost much. Never really had much to begin with. This was all very new to him.

“Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun,” the smallest swordsman quoted from earlier.

He was just going through his same everyday routine when he met an older, scarred man outside town. He had been taken aback when the man had happily showed him his large sword. Most would’ve waved him off as a nosy child.

The blade was was impressive. Almost twice his height! Proudly centered in the middle of an angular hilt was the Goron symbol. It was incredibly sharp and looked perfectly balanced. He wondered if it was one of Biggoron’s works.

He would have never guessed what would happen next or the journey it would set him on. The man crouched down. Your name wouldn’t happen to be Link, would it?

“Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood.”

A humble traveler walked along a yellow, worn path. Just a little farther and he’d veer off to explore a cave he’d seen once. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry before, he would’ve already done so, but just as well, he was excited. He just couldn’t get adjusted to living in a castle. This was the first time in a while he was able to sneak away.

He met a couple strangers before the mouth of the cave. Not uncommon, he introduced himself. He had not expected they’d actually been looking for him. Confused, he let them lead the way through the cave to their campsite where he spent the night hearing tales of old spoken in first person.

He would still need to explore that cave.

“Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea,” a new voice sang softly.

He was running late. Again. Why was it so hard to wake up if he struggled to fall asleep in the first place? How did that make sense?

Finally, he could see the blacksmith’s wife outside waiting for him. Gulley was also outside playing with the cucco. Good. Less embarrassment when he got inside. Curse his decision to continue pursuing the craft.

He took a moment to breathe when Gulley spotted him and waved. The kid winced in sympathy knowing full well the apprentice was just buying time. Well, he couldn’t pretend to wheeze forever. No one bought it anyway.

Out of literally nowhere, a giant club swung by a hinox knocked him sideways. The mother and son ran inside screaming. He counted three and cursed, struggling to stand. How and why were hinox in Hyrule? He cursed again realizing he was legit wheezing now. Lucky hit.

He booked it to the shop avoiding bombs the cyclopes threw at him. Inside, he gently pushed past the three fussing over him and stared the blacksmith dead in the eye. He was tossed a newly tempered blade. He couldn’t let those monsters continue to live in Hyrule.

Shouts disrupted the anxious silence. He ran back outside and balked at a couple of kids running around avoiding bombs. Cursing at everything, it took the three of them about ten minutes to dispatch of the scarily strong oafs. He had to admit, he was impressed.

He could tell what was coming before they could even open their mouths. Goddesses! Could he not catch a break?

“Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood.”

What? Where was this? He didn’t even get any divine warning! Groose was surely throwing a fit over him vanishing mid-convo. He could only hope the goof wouldn’t do anything stupid searching for him.

A strange, repetitive thunking was drawing closer from behind. He dove out of the way of whatever the beast was, but it had actually come to a stop a few feet before him. A young man with long blonde hair hopped off its back asking if he were okay.

He struggled to answer staring wide-eyed over the man’s shoulder. How was she here? Who was this, and why was she with him?

The man stared back contemplating something in his silence. The stranger then called him by name and seemed proud of the reaction he got. He was getting dizzy from the amount of questions racing in his mind. How’d this guy know him? Why’d he have Fi with him?

Why did he feel so familiar?

“Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?”

Bumping into a large gentleman in the bazaar was not how he imagined a new adventure to start.

The man asked him if they’d met before. They racked their brains for a good half hour trying to remember where’d they knew each other from. It was only when Lana found them followed by a familiar face that pieces were starting to fall into place.

No, it wasn’t Lana’s doing, and she knew nothing of how either. She did, however, sense their presence and knew they were safer together. The old man was still a mystery, but Lana assured them this was fine. Maybe they’d remember later. They all had the Spirit of the Hero.

Suddenly, they were in a new town. The whiplash of everything changing in a blink made him nauseous. Whatever this was, at the very least, they were somewhat experienced.

“I do believe I have been changed for the better,” the Hero of Legend sang quietly, his flushed face partially hidden beneath his hair. Soft smiles were sent his way.

“And because I knew you,” the Hero of Twilight prompted.

“Because I knew you,” the Hero of Winds agreed.

“Because I knew you.” Streaks were running down the vet’s cheeks. He could never catch a break.

To be fair, there wasn’t a dry eye present.

“I have been changed...”

The unison voices drifted away along with anything not of the world one hero would be standing alone in.

“...for good...”

[izuku-midoryias-blog]

The Breakup

"You say, I should do it differently. I don't necessarily agree. Stand up! Sit down! Be nice! Did you hear me ask for your advice?" Ash sang into the microphone as we did a Kelly Osbourne cover. Several people had been asking us to do this cover, so we finally gave in and did it. Shut Up wasn't that bad, I thought we'd slaughter the song and get booed off the stage. We didn't though. Ash, the lead singer, his name is actually short for Ashley, but he wants to be a guy, so he had everyone call her Ash. I'm the badass bassist, Amethyst, I sing as well, but prefer to be backup or not sing at all.

Our drummer, Christian Cole, is such a fan of Black Veil Brides, he also calls himself CC. We have a keyboardist and guitarist as well, Mykal and Mykie, the twins. They are so identical, they dress alike as well as talk and act alike sometimes, it's crazy. We call ourselves, Drowning in Sin, we haven't came up with our own songs yet, so we just stick with covers currently. After our performance, we sat backstage, drinking water and catching our breath before we went and sat down at a table to watch the other performances.

"Ash?" Jennah, Ash's girlfriend said, trying to get his attention. "Yeah, what is it babe?" Ash turned his attention to Jennah. "We need to talk," Ash went rigid, knowing what was coming, "If you are going to bitch about me being in a band, then you can fuck off, because I was in the band before I got with you and these guys are family to me. Also, if you're going to break up with me, then you might as well do it here, like I said, these guys are family and I don't keep shit from them."

I have heard Ash speak when he's pissed before, but this scared me, he's never spoken with no emotion. I guess Jennah really meant something to him and this finally broke Ash. Jennah looked at Ashley and I think she actually shocked us all when she said what she said with literally no emotion. "Ashley, its over, I've got a boyfriend and I prefer his dick over your pussy," Jennah rushed out the break up. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! GET OUT OF MY GOD DAMN FACE AND FOR ALL I FUCKING CARE, GO FUCKING DIE!!" Ash screamed at Jennah, causing heads to turn. Before Jennah could say anything, Ash balled up his fist and I swear, I thought he was gonna hit her. 

I shoved Jennah out the door as Ash turned to punch the thing closest to him, which happened to be a brick wall. I have a crush on Ash, but he doesn't know about it. I turn to Ash and take his now broken hand, "Ash, honey, your hand is broken, let's get out of here and get you to a hospital. Mykie, get me some ice for his hand, please." Mykie rushes off to get a bag of ice for Ash's hand, comes back and hands it to me. I place the ice on Ash's hand as he hisses in pain at me.

"God damnit, Amethyst, my hand is broken! Be a bit gentler, will you?!" I apologize to her and drag her out the door and across the street to the hospital. "What can I do for you?" The receptionist asks. "My friend and his girlfriend broke up, so he punched a brick wall," I answered the lady. The lady looks at us, asks Ash some questions so they could get a hospital bracelet made, put the hospital bracelet on Ash's wrist, gives me a number and we go sit down while we wait to be called. I roll my eyes, seeing that there is nobody in the waiting room. "Ugh, this is some bullshit!" I mutter under my breath. Ash looks at me, then looks away, obviously still bothered by her breakup, "What's the number, Amethyst?" 

"Uh, fifteen is the number, honey. Why are you asking?" Ash just shrugs and looks down. "Just wondering, that's all," she mutters. After about 15 to 20 minutes of just sitting here, listening to the silence and watching literally nobody leave, Ash's number was finally called, "15, Whenever you're ready." I get up with Ash and walk through the big automatic doors that separate us from the rest of the hospital. We get to the triage, I hand the nurse the number card as Ash sits down.

"Alright, what brings you here today?" The triage nurse asks Ash while checking his blood pressure and temperature. "My girlfriend broke up with me, so I punched a brick wall to keep from punching her. I'm not sure if I broke my hand or not, I just know that I'm in pain," Ashley said. "How long have you been dealing with the pain?" The nurse is writing down everything. "About an hour, maybe an hour and a half."

"How would you rate your pain?"

"On a scale of what?" Ash asks getting annoyed. "One being the least amount of pain, ten being the worst," the woman states.

"Oh, okay. Uhm, thirty." Ash says clearly pissed off. The nurse finishes writing some things, then gets up, "Right this way. You'll be in this room right here." The nurse directs us to room D. "Someone will be with you shortly," she says before she closes the door. Ash looks at me, then focuses his attention back on his hand. Confusion flashes across my face, but I ignore the confusion. 

"Why are you the only person that never seems to leave me, Amethyst?" Ash asks out of nowhere. I look at her strangely before I answer, "Ash, we've been friends for as long as I can remember. I promised you that I would always be here for you and that I would never leave you & I keep my promises. Besides, I have a huge - uh, never mind, Jennah just broke up with you. You don't need to know that information." I start blushing at the fact that I almost told my best friend, who probably doesn't feel the same way, that I have a huge crush on him.

Ash looks at me strangely, but just as she goes to open his mouth, there was a knock on the door. I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding, when I saw the doctor walk through the door. I got a strange look from the doctor, but instead of him saying anything to me, he turns towards Ash and asks him about why he's here. Rolling his eyes and for the third time, explains that his girlfriend broke up with him, so he punched a brick wall to keep from punching her. This doctor seemed to be young, like just out of college young and looked as if he was checking out Ashley, so it seemed like he didn't hear the word girlfriend in that explanation. 

"We'll have to take you and x-ray your hand to see the damage done, alright?" Ash nods his head, answering his question. After he leaves, we sit in the room in silence, fifteen minutes go by and an x-ray technician comes to take Ash to x-ray his hand. I stay and wait for Ash to come back. Ash comes back and I almost didn't notice, I was so lost in my thoughts. Thirty minutes go by and the doctor comes back in and tells Ash that the knuckles on his pinky and his ring finger were shattered. Ash sighs and somewhat listens as the doctor tells him that the only resolution for his shattered knuckles, was surgery.

"Oh hell no! I am not having surgery over my damn knuckles! Knowing my luck, you'd be the one operating on my hand and you'd fuck something up and kill me, just over a couple knuckles! You must be burnt the fuck up if you think I'm gonna go under anesthesia for surgery on a couple shattered knuckles!" Ash went on his rampage over surgery for his hand, I must admit, I had to try not to laugh at his rampage. I guess he was extremely paranoid over going under anesthesia for anything. The doctor let him rant and rave over anesthesia and surgery before he responded to him,

"Alright, it's up to you if you want the surgery or not, dear." I thought Ash was going to rip his head off after the 'Dear' comment, but instead she just chewed him a new ass as she informed him that she was a lesbian and was not interested in men and never will be, "I like pussy, not cock, dude and if you were actually listening to me explain why I punched the brick wall, you wouldn't be tryin to hit on me, right this very second. Let me repeat myself since you obviously didn't hear me. My girlfriend broke up with me, so instead of punching her in the face in the middle of a venue, I punched a brick wall. Which, by the way, was closer than her face anyways. I'm also a potentially angry person and the only person that can keep me calm half of the time, you gave a dirty look to as you walked in. I don't know what you were thinking, but I don't want to see you give that woman a 'go to hell' look again!"

The doctor just nodded his head and then walked out of the room. No less than five minutes went by, when the nurse came in with discharge papers for him to sign. "Just be sure to ice your hand for thirty minutes and keep it elevated above your heart while you ice it, dearie," The nurse said sweetly. I think everyone thinks it's, flirt with Ashley because he had his heart broke three hours ago, day. I sighed and Ash and I left the hospital and went right back across the street to the venue to get the rest of the band. Mykie was the first to ask what was said at the emergency room.

"I shattered my pinky and ring finger knuckles and the only way to truly fix them is to have surgery," Ash shrugged, "Oh, the doctor tried to flirt with me, but I put him in his place, then as I was getting discharged, the nurse gave me her number. I don't know what is up with those people, but damn, I'm not interested in men or hooking up. I'd like time to get over the incident that just happened three hours ago before anyone seems to tell me that they're in love with me." I stared wide eyed at Ashley as he was ranting to Mykie. So, he knew what I was going to say to him after all. I wonder if that means he feels the same and would just like to get over his girlfriend of four years breaking up with him.

Ash looks at me and nods his head, "Yes, Amethyst, I knew what you were gonna say and no, I'm not gonna tell you my response for a very very long time."

[missblissy]

Title: Free Fall Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: Reader-insert, one-shot  Character: Arthur X Reader

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

Description:             You and Arthur go for a hunting trip into Big Valley but some trouble comes along for the ride too. Things don’t turn up as planned. At all..

It wasn’t all that bad this morning. The rain from the night before had finally started to dry, and everyone started to come out of hiding.

Hosea was already up long before you, sitting by the campfire of the Horseshoe Overlook camp. Pearson had just gotten up too along with Grimshaw. You walked over to Hosea and sat down beside him.

“Good morning,” He said, handing you a small cup of coffee he had waiting beside him.

“Morning,” Your voice was still a little rough, “Thanks,” You took the cup, bringing it right up to your nose and let the steam flow over your face. It was far more refreshing than the chilly wet morning.

You look at Hosea, he seemed worried like always. All this stress of moving and running from the law has turned his hair even whiter and put more wrinkles on his face. He wasn’t looking too good. Every morning though, at every camp, for the last several years, you’ve woken up to spend your morning coffee with the old man. He was the father you never got to have.

“Got any plans for today?” Hosea took a drink from his coffee then looked over to you.

“Mhm,” You weren’t much for words this early. You took a sip of the coffee and then shrugged, “I’m not sure yet... We just got here, it’s only been a couple of days. There is a lot of work to do around camp still.”

“Yes, there is,” He sounded tired, “Maybe you should go hunting. The weather is perfect,” All of a sudden there was a little twinkle shining in his eye, “Years ago...” He started his story with a little smile, “When I was out in this country with some old counterparts, we heard of this huge- I mean really huge buck, right in the heart of Big Valley.”

“Yeah? Did you go after it?” You sat up a little straighter trying to get the hunch out of your back. You saw Abigal and John already having some sort of argument.

Hosea laughed a little and shook his head, “Didn’t even see it. Spent a whole week out there. Not a single damn thing. Nothing. We had better luck hunting the flies that piled around our shit.”

You both laughed at that. Chuckling under your breath, you asked, “You think it’s still out there?”

“Maybe,” Hosea took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not entirely sure, but it’s possible it’s still out there,”

“What’s still out there?”

You nearly jumped out your skin and screamed like a little animal. Arthur was standing behind you two with a bowl of stew in his hands. He had the smallest smirk on his face. So small you could barely even see it. Your heart started to pick up and inside your head, you were spazzing out. But you calmed down from the surprise and cooly said, “Huge buck, up in Big Valley,”

“You don’t say?” Arthur looked interested. You tried your best not to look at him too much. Some days you just wanted to stare from dawn till dusk at that man. Rarely did you ever get the chance to. He was always off doing this and that, running around like a little pack mule for Dutch.

You looked between the two men, and listened as Hosea said, “Why don’t you two go hunting?” You didn’t say anything and just kept sipping at your coffee. Truth is... You and Arthur... Haven’t been getting along too well recently.

Since the whole Blackwater incident, since you saw Dutch... Do that.. do what he did to that girl, your faith in the gang, in Dutch, has been unshaken. Hosea was the only one you could stand to even be around because he was the only one here who knew any better than Dutch, but nobody listened to him much.

It was hard, having to see the small family you loved finally start falling apart. From the start, it had just been the five of you. Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, John and little you. You watched people come and go, many of them died, but it was always you guys.

The last time you spoke to Arthur though, was up in the mountains during the blizzard when he came back with Kieran. You fought over letting that poor guy go, but Arthur insisted on following Dutches orders, and you argued that Dutch wasn’t fit to lead this gang anymore. That was about a week ago. You haven’t spoken since.

There was silence for a bit, you didn’t want to answer or get your hopes up that Arthur would want to go on a hunting trip with you. You did miss him a lot. Arthur was by far one of your favorite people, probably the only person you’d die for. He was, to say the least, the man of your dreams. He was just so... wrapped around Dutch’s finger.

Finally, after a minute or two, Arthur said, “Sure,” and looked down at you. He trapped a finger on your head a few times, “You up for it?”

“Yeah, I suppose. A buck that big could feed the camp for a week,” You were actually very excited to go. It was so hard to keep all those emotions inside and keep your cool and laid back facade.

The three of your got up and started walking through camp. Hosea spoke up and walked between you and Arthur, “Excellent!” He seemed so happy to have the both of you -sort of- talking again, “You’ll need some supplies and I’ll let Dutch know you’ll be out,” Hosea handed you a small bag filled with who knows what he meant by ‘supplies.’

He rushed you off and left with a smile and a wave about how he was going to go read some book. The silence returned between you and Arthur and you felt the need to fill it.

You climbed up on your horse and got comfortable in your saddle, “You know which way we’re headed?” Arthur just let out a little grunt. That meant yes, “Take the lead then.” You said.

The ride, for the most part, was silent and little slow paced. You watched Arthur up front as he took his time to look at the world around him. He seemed just as tired as Hosea. You wanted to fill the void with between you and Arthur so you caught up and rode beside him.

The sun had just barely made it over the hills, the sky was a painting of red, pink, blue, orange and purple. It was beautiful. So you chose that to be the topic of your small talk, “A perfect sunrise, don’t you think?”

“It is,” He agreed, “Aren’t they your favorite?”

“Yeah, it is.” You felt a little smile twitch at your lips. He remembered... It made your heart swell in your chest and your brain scream. It was so difficult being around Arthur now. Since your fight with him, things have changed in a way you didn't think possible. The fight... you both said something that hurt and shouldn't have been said.

The real problem was the denial you were in about how you felt about Arthur. You loved him, honestly, that's what it was. You loved him more and more and every day you shoved those feelings down and told yourself I'm not good enough for him. He's had so many heartbreaks. He's not looking for love. While at the same time you also told yourself he didn't want someone like you. Someone stubborn, someone temperamental and someone who he probably saw more of as an annoying sibling and less of a romantic interest. You know what he wanted. He wanted Mary.

There was silence again. It was awful. It never bothered you until the fight. You use to sit with Arthur for hours on end, never speaking a word, just reading a book while he wilted a stick with his knife. You had to fill the silence, you wanted to talk to him. You wanted him to talk to you.

The sun was well and high into the sky now. You cleared your throat and said, "Do... You remember..." You paused to see if he was listening. You could tell he was because you saw the side of his face and ear facing you, "You remember that time when we were really young, and Hosea was teaching us how to hunt with a bow?"

"Oh yeah, I couldn't shoot an arrow worth nothin," There was a little smile on his face. You rode your horse up to match his speed.

There was a grin on your face and gave him a look, "But I could! I remember the look on Dutch and Hosea's face when I got a bullseye on my first try!"

You both chuckled, while Arthur said, "And John was being a little shit because he couldn't figure out how the hell to shoot an arrow," You remember that day fondly. 

"Dutch was so proud of us. He couldn't shut up about how his three kids were learning to hunt and shoot.... and kill," You said that last part with a little bit of regret. You've come to blame Dutch for making you the person you were. But you kept that part to yourself.

"He was. Hosea too," Arthur carried the conversation on, "They share whiskey with us for the first time too, didn't they?"

"Ha, they did!"

As the day went on and you rode on, you and Arthur shared memories of better times. Talking about the old days made you nostalgic in a bad way. It made you realize how much has changed, how much the world was changing. How much you wanted to go back in time and live there forever. Eventually, the ride came turned from open fields to trees and mountain paths. When you finally go to Big Valley you were greeted with huge meadows filled with flowers of all kinds. It was so amazing and beautiful as the flowers made waves of there own in the wind. It was like watching the water on a beach.

You chose a spot to make camp past the open fields and more into the trees. While you hitched the horses and took care of them, you watched from the corner of your eye as Arthur rolled some logs over and made a little fire pit. He was busy, so you tried to leave him be. You didn't want to force him to deal with you. While he was doing that, you started going through the bag of 'supplies' that Hosea gave you.

Sitting down on one of the logs, you until the little string holding the bag closed. You find some pretty basic things. Berries, oats, bait, can of coffee, some cans of beans... And.. Did...? Was that? Moonshine?

Really now? "That god damn bastard," You smile and mutter those words under your breath as you pull out not one, but two big bottles of moonshine.

You looked around for Arthur, wanting to tell him about this little surprise, and you find him a few feet away chopping logs in half. By... God. That was a sight to see. There he was, Arthur Morgan, in the afternoon sun. Sweating. Showing off his arms with his sleeves rolled up like that. You quickly looked away. There those feelings were again. Strong and loud. Your heart raced and you shook your head to push those thoughts away. Instead, you stared at your hands and thought... Just once you thought, what if... Arthur loved you back. It made your face heat up, it made your palms sweaty. You thought and thought and started to get scared because you knew you were only going to hurt yourself if you actually kept feeling those feelings.

"(Y/N)!"

"Huh!?" You sat up straight and looked up. Arthur was standing right in front of you, he must have been talking to you. Oh no... "What?"

"I said... What you got there?" You looked down at the moonshine he was pointing at.

"Oh... uh," You were still a little flustered from before and your brain was having a hard time catching up, "Um," You handed him one of the bottles, "Hosea must have packed it to celebrate maybe?"

Arthur cracked it open and sat down beside you on the log. You were so lost in your thoughts earlier that you didn't even notice that he had set up a tent and even got the fire going. You were surprised when Arthur started during the moonshine. He took a long swig and cringe as the alcohol burned down his throat.

When he handed the bottle to you, you asked, "Don't want to save it? You.. know... for later? After we get the buck?" He shook his head, "Why not?"

"We'll get the buck tomorrow," He said as you took a little sip of the moonshine. You waited for him to explain a little more but he never said anything.

“So..? Why did you come out here then?” You stared down at your fingers as you twisted them together. You set the moonshine down between the both of you.

Arthur just let out a little grunt and nodded his head side to side slowly, “I needed a break. From all of that.” He waved his hand in the air like you knew what he was trying to say.

It took you a few seconds but then you suddenly got, “You mean the camp?”

“Mhm,” Arthur was back to drinking more of the booze, “Everyone has been getting on my nerves lately, it’s ridiculous. I can’t stand those idiots.” He made a face that reminded you of just how much Arthur enjoys his silence and isolation from the vast majority of the world. He was a loner and a stubborn one too.

“Oh…” You said as he offered the moonshine to you and you turned it down, “Well I can…Leave.”

“Nah,” He drawled out, “I can stand you. It’s Micah… Bill. Uncle. A little bit of John too,” He paused then put the moonshine back and his face grew dark, “And Dutch.” You felt something in the air that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You arm hairs stood up and you got a chill that ran over your skin. Arthur hunched forward resting his elbows on his knees and looked down at the ground. His hat was covering face for the most part.

He started to talk, but he got stuck on the words, “I… I know…” He stopped and cursed under his breath, “I know what you saw back in Blackwater changed you,” You didn’t really want to have this conversation right now. It bothered you that he was bringing this up again, “I know you’re not happy with the gang right now,” He took a breath and let out a heavy sigh that carried more weight than you could ever know, “And… I don’t blame you…”

His words surprised you. This was far different from the Arthur you argued with a week ago. He didn’t want to listen to you or even consider what happened in Blackwater. He blindly looked to Dutch and didn’t question his actions. Now it looks like Arthur was confused, even hurt a little.

“I’ve heard around from other people about what he did and I-” Arthurs words were cut off by the sound of gunfire incredibly close to your campsite. The both of you looked around quickly and into the trees. The evening sun painted the sky orange and white, making it a little harder to see if anyone was coming from the tree line.

The gunshots got closer and closer still and you could faintly hear shouting too. Arthur tapped your shoulder and pointed to the little creek down the hill, “Look,” You both found some cover behind a large boulder, “Someone’s being chased,”

You saw a man running for his life. He looked beat up, bloody and broken. He was screaming and stumbling every step he took. Following him close behind were a group of men on horseback.

“O’driscolls,” You muttered with malice in your voice, “Why are the O’driscolls up here too? How many of those bastards are there?”

“I don’t know, but it looks like they’re headed this way,” They killed the man they were chasing and started looting his body. You saw one of the men point in your direction. The fire! It was leaving a smoke trail for them to follow up and find you.

You looked at Arthur and he looked back to you. You shared some unspoken words and a simple nod. He ran left into the cover of some bushes and you went right and found a tree to hide behind. You pulled your revolver out and gripped the gun tight.

As the O’driscalls got closer you could hear them speaking.

“Ya think they still here?”

“They couldn’t have gotten too far,”

You peeked out and saw four men. They had walked past the bushes Arthur had hid himself in and closer to the tree you were at. The tallest O’driscoll said something about your horses and got yelled out, “We know ya still here! Come on out now or will kill ya nice and slow!”

This was it. You took a breath and calmed yourself down. You’ve done this before. No need to get nervous now. It’s just some O’driscolls, they’re nothing.

You walked out from behind your tree with your hands in the air, “I’m out!” You yelled at them. You took them by surprise and they all pointed their guns at you, “I’m out! I came out!” You slowly lowered your revolver down, “I don’t want any trouble now,”

“Well you got some trouble,” An ugly looking man pointed from you to your horses, “What about your friend? We know there are two of ya,”

“He’s hunting,” You lied coolly. Your revolver was still being lowered, “It’s just me. Take what you want,” The O’driscolls started lowering their guns too and walking closer towards you and your camp. As soon as your gun was by your side was when Arthur jumped from the bushes and gunfire cut the silence of the valley and gunsmoke filled the air.

It was an all out shoot out. You dove to the ground and took cover behind your tree while two of the O’driscolls ran off and the other two went for you. You shot at them, filling them with bullets, hoping they die slowly. Arthur had gone after the other two men while you shot down and killed the taller O’driscoll. The other one, the ugly one, was bleeding out but still hiding behind a log. He took random shots and one hit you and grazed right through your arm. You shouted out in pain and swore. You could see Arthur a few feet away beating the shit out of one of the men. He must have killed the other one.   

“Fuck! Argh!” It felt worse than it looked. There was a clean cut on your shoulder that already started to bleed, but other than that you were fine. You took a stupid risk, filled with rage and pissed out of your mind that this bastard actually nipped you, you ran out from behind your tree and straight for the O’driscoll. He didn’t even see you coming, he was busy shaking and trying to reload his gun. When he saw you, the look on his face was fear and he was crying. He started to plead with you, saying he didn’t want to do this and that hated his life as an outlaw. He even threw his gun to the side and put his hands up in the air.

Arthur had come running in and out of breath with his gun pointed at the little sad ugly man, “You gonna kill em?” He asked.

“Please! Please don’t kill me! I-I-I have… money! T-take it!” He tossed a few dollar bills onto the ground in front of your feet. You stared him down, getting closer. He was shaking like a leaf, “Look-look! You already shot me!” he did have a few bullet holes in his legs. One in his thigh and one below his knee.

“Looks like you’re already dead, don’t you think, Arthur?” You looked over to the stern man and he nodded his head.

“I’d reckon we should put him out of his misery,”

“N-no! No! Please! I-I-I-” The O’driscoll’s pleas were cut short. You shot him square between the eyes. You didn’t want to listen to him beg anymore and you’d rather get back to your campsite.

You reached down and hooked your arms under the dead man and started dragging him away, “Wanna help me get rid of the- Urgh! Shit!” You forgot you were shot and when you tried to lift the dead man your arm screamed out in hot pain.

Arthur came over and shuffled you away, “Go sit by the fire. I’ll take care of this,”

“No- I’m fine-” You tried picking up the body again but it hurt, even more, this time and it cause you to drop the body and fall with it too.

“Goddammit- Will you listen to me? You got shot for Christ's sake (Y/N)!” Arthur grabbed you by your good arm and helped you up. This was the first time you saw his face. He looked… worried? Upset? It was a mixture of many things but what stood out the most was how his brows were raised and knitted together and a sad little grimace was on his face. It was like he was the one in pain.

“I’ve been shot before,” You winced as he pulled you to your feet, “I’m fine, Arthur. It’s just a nip,” You looked to your shoulder and saw the blood stain soaking your shirt. It looked like you were still bleeding. Your sleeve was torn by the bullet so you pulled it back and gave the wound a real look. It didn’t seem that bad, just a medium-sized gash across your shoulder.

“Just go sit down, okay?”

You didn’t put up a fight anymore. You went to the campfire and sat down on a log. That moonshine looked really good right about now. You took your time swigging down have the bottle before Arthur came back. He sat down beside you an asked, “Can I see?” and gestured to your shoulder.

You nodded. He hesitated and his hand hovered over your shoulder like he was afraid of hurting you. He peeled back the clothes and started cutting the extras bits away. Arthur then reached into his satchel and pulled out some bandages.

The moonshine had started getting to your head so you found it a little funny, “You got everything in there, huh? Got any candy?”

He didn’t say anything but he went back into his satchel and gave you a chocolate bar. You burst out laughing, a little drunk, you found this absolutely hilarious. He gave you this look and raised a brow, “What on earth has gotten into you? And sit still dammit! I can’t fix you up if you keep moving,”

So you sat there drinking moonshine and chewing on some chocolate as Arthur took care of you. All those feelings you’ve been repressing started to come up again. You felt bad, guilty too. You easily feel down the trap that is the negative thoughts that can come with drinking. Arthur was almost done wrapping your shoulder when you made this sad little face.

“Arthur?” You were thinking about what he was saying earlier before the O’driscolls showed up.

“Yeah?” He didn’t look away from your arm, which was okay because you didn’t want him to catch you staring at him.

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” He stopped and looked at you, to which you darted your gaze away and to the ground, “For what?”

“I’m sorry for what I said. About Dutch… and you…” You could still feel the venom and hate that you spat at him back then. You told him how Dutch was just... Not the same person anymore and how you wanted to leave the gang. That Dutch was going crazy with money and obsessed over power. You told Arthur he was a blind coward that couldn’t think for himself and depended on Dutch to keep him from becoming a sad and depressed old bag of useless shit… Just like his real father.

    You waited for him to say something, but he was silent. So you rushed to talk again, “I-I… I shouldn’t have said those things. And-... We didn’t talk for a whole week. I missed you so much, Arthur. It was just a week and I felt like I lost you forever. We’re different.”

    He finished bandaging your arm. He still stayed there sitting right beside you. You’re legs where touching and you stared at them as he started to speak, “Well,” he rubbed his chin, “I didn’t say anything nice either. I just really remember you saying you wanted to leave. I didn’t really get why. I didn’t see what Dutch did on that ferry but you did. And I was talking to Hosea, and John and everyone else. They all said things,” He paused and then shook his head, “I get it a little more now. You saw Dutch do something he said he’d never do. You saw the way he exploded and killed that woman. But I can’t have you leaving me just cause something bad happens.”

    You’re eyes shot wide open and you looked up at Arthur, “...Me?”

“I-... I mean the gang. Can’t have you leaving the gang,” He looked down at the bottle of moonshine and snatched it up from you with a grumpy looking frown on his face, “Gimme some of that.”

“You said! Me! You said ‘I can’t have you leaving me.’ That’s what you said!!” Your drunk little brain was going wild. Normally you’d sit there and keep your cool but thanks to the booze that wasn’t going to happen.

“Alright!” Arthur snapped, “I said it! So what?”

You stole the moonshine back from him to drink some more and get up to your feet, “It means you want me around!” You smiled. You felt so much better hearing that. You were so afraid before that he’d never want to be around you again.

“I guess it does,” He had a small smile twitching on his lips, “I do want you around (Y/N). You’ve been around me almost all my life, it’d be… weird if you weren’t there.”

The first bottle of moonshine was already empty, “I want you around too. I love having you around,” You felt yourself getting a little dizzy so you sat down again. Your filter wasn’t on either, the words just puked out of your mouth like it was nothing, “I love everything about you, Arthur. I never want you to leave you or leave you behind,” You said it so casually but it took Arthur by surprise.

He was looking at with question in his eyes, “What's wrong?” You asked, “Do I got something on my face?” You started rubbing the back of your hand across your mouth and cheek.

That weird look on Arthur’s face was replaced with a warm smile, then a little chuckle, then a laugh, then huge fits of loud and booming giggles. He was laughing so much that you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. What was so funny?

Arthur cracked open the second moonshine bottle and took a large swig, “Goddammit, (Y/N). You make it so hard,” He said between sips of the bottle, “You are one of the only good things to ever happen to me and you make it so hard for me to stay away from you,” He took another sip, “I was mad. I was mad as hell about what you said last week. I wanted to stay mad at you forever. I stayed away. I did. It didn’t work. Every morning you came out of your tent all sad and heartbroken. It hurt seeing you like that. I saw you slouch around with Hosea, hiding behind him like some kid when your just as old as me,” Arthur chuckled and it made your heart skip, “But today I saw you… You didn’t look sad anymore. Just tried. Empty. I didn’t want to do that to you. I still don’t think you should leave. I don’t want you to leave. But I see it… I see that you aren’t happy here with us anymore.”

You were too drunk to really say anything meaningful. You did something bold and leaned onto Arthur and put your head on his shoulder. You weren’t one for touching others or being touched, but the moonshine was helping you do just the opposite, “I’m happy,” You mumbled, “I’m happy when I’m with you.” You could feel Arthur stiffen up at your touch and his breath hitched as you talked, “You take care good care of me. I wish we could have our own lives though,”

“How so?” He asked hesitantly.

“You know…” You were looking at the fire flicker and flash as it burned away the logs, “Just us. Our own people. We’d be normal. We’d have land, a home… maybe a dog.” Your repressed feelings and dreams started swelling up into your throat and spilling out, “Or we’d run away and go to California. Live in those red wood forests with the big trees were no one could ever find us. We don’t rob people, we don’t steal or kill. We don’t go looking for trouble and trouble doesn’t find us.”

“I wish you told me this sooner,” He sounded solemn, upset. You started to panic and look over at Arthur. Did you share too much? Did you just out your real feelings to him? Shit! Stupid! Stop drinking! This is why you don’t drink ever, not never, because you won’t shut up. You swore off the moonshine, cursing it for being a potent truth potion.

“I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!” You hid your face behind your hands and felt the crazy blush take over. You suddenly felt a tight grip around both of your wrist and calloused hands pull them down and away from your face.

When you looked up, Arthur was right in front of you, face to face with a serious looking expression. You blushed even more and felt the need to jump away, he’s never been this close to your face before.

“Say it again,” He said. You were confused and you gaze flickered back and forth between him and that duck shaped cloud in the evening sunset, “Say how much you want me around. Say how much you want to run away with me.”

You finally looked at him and met his gaze. His eyes were locked hard onto you, searching and digging right into you. You cleared your throat and nervously said, “I… I want you around all the time. Forever. I’ve wanted to run away with you since we were kids.”

It happened so fast that you didn’t even register what was going on until it was almost over. Arthur had close the space between you both by bringing you to him and kissing you. Your heart was pounding so hard that you felt your skull throbbing. He pulled away before you even return the kiss, but there were only inches between you two.

“I’m sorry,” He started to back away, “I should have asked- I’ve.. it’s… too much moonshine-” But you grabbed him tight and pulled him back to face you.

“Do it again,” You said, just like he asked to say it again, you wanted him to do it. Not a second was wasted, Arthur scooted closer and closer until the two of you were pressed together and lip locked in a kiss that had been going on for about a minute now. He tasted like cigarettes and moonshine, not that that was a bad thing. It was almost comforting.

You were stuck together until you both needed to breathe again. Arthur had a big cheeky grin on his face, it was beyond adorable, “I’ve waited some many god damn years for that,” He confessed.

You matched his smile, though a little shyer, “Me too” you admitted, “What are we going to do for the rest of the night?” The sun had started to set a long time ago and the sky was growing darker and darker by the minute.

Arthur grabbed the moonshine again and grinned a little, “Finish this, first of all,” You made a little giggle at that. He then lifted up his arm and gave a little wave of his hand. You slid over and got comfortable so close to him as he wrapped his arm behind you, “Then, after that, we’ll see what happens,” You just couldn’t stop those smiles and giggles. He always brought out the good in you. It felt nice to finally be this close to him. To have those feelings be returned meant the world to you, it meant everything. You didn’t even plan on this happening and yet it did. Arthur would press kisses to your cheek and pull you over to steal even more. He was so starved of attention that he took it whenever he wanted. The two of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the campfire, laughing and drinking and starting a new chapter in your lives.

[taexual]

BTS / Mafia AU - Their S/O is in danger / Part Two

ANON REQUEST: Pleeeease consider doing a part 2 for your BTS MafiaAU where their SO is in danger...I would love to read a continuation for those, especially the cliffhangers! Thx love!

PART ONE of this request is HERE

OTHER MAFIA AUS: BTS / EXO / GOT7 / MONSTA X / SEVENTEEN

WARNING: angst, explicit violence + strong language

Jin

In all truth, despite seeing Jin kill someone right in front of you in a way that wasn’t exactly popular in the twenty-first century, you probably weren’t as terrified as you should have been. However, he insisted you stayed home for a few days, thinking that you were stressed because you’ve been attacked, and not because, essentially, that man was dead because he chose the wrong person to threaten.

Had it been someone else, your attacker would have probably only been arrested but he would have still been alive.

“Is it still bothering you?” Jin’s voice surprised you as he entered your shared bedroom, carrying a tray with two cups of tea on it. He really didn’t even let you leave the bed to get a drink. “The attack, I mean.”

“No, it’s n-not the attack that’s bothering me,” you decided to say. It’s been a couple of days, maybe it was time you admitted what was really on your mind. Jin sat down on the bed, placing the tray in front of him and giving you a curious look that prompted you to continue, “I… I was just thinking about how that person is just… dead, you know?”

“Right,” Jin said, a more serious expression on his face now. “Why are you thinking about this? That man attacked you on the street. I killed him.”

“No, I’m aware of that,” you replied. “It’s just—it was really simple for you to just kill him. Wasn’t it?”

“Killing is never simple,” he said, relieving some of your tension. “But it sure helped that he chose you as his target. This time, I did it with no hesitation whatsoever.”

“What if he wasn’t planning to attack me, specifically?” you spoke, finally asking something that’s been bothering you ever since Jin took you home that day. “What if, as I said, it was just a coincidence? He was just looking for someone to mug and I was just—”

“No,” Jin dismissed your reasoning before you even finished. “That’s impossible. I already told you.”

“But why?” you pushed. “Did you know him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how can you be sure that it wasn’t just a random—”

“Because I may not have known him but there was no way in hell he didn’t know you,” Jin retorted, slowly losing his patience as his voice rose. “Everyone knows us in this neighborhood. Hell, the people in this whole town know what we look like. They whisper that there’s a Mafia family living among them and they pretend not to see us when we walk down the street, but they know. And that guy? He was a local, for sure. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so brave, attacking you. Do you know how much pride he’d bring his buddies for mugging the wife of the leader of the Mafia?”

You looked away from him, uncomfortable by his insistent tone. “Okay. I got it.”

“I hope you did,” he said then. “Because I don’t want you to doubt for one second that I would kill for you. I would do anything to protect you.”

Suga

It seemed as though even the people who’d held you captive knew that when Yoongi promised to get you out of there, he wasn’t lying. That was why you suffered so much during the next couple of hours. You were starting to become afraid Yoongi wasn’t going to make it here before they killed you.

By the time you heard a commotion outside of the room where they’d been keeping you, you were already losing consciousness. You tried to hold onto these last few strands of life as you felt a sharp brush of the blade of a knife against your cheek. They’d beat you relentlessly for at least an hour before, only giving you breaks when they needed to catch their own breaths. And, clearly, now they were planning to use knives.

“Looks like he’s finally here,” the same man who’s been orchestrating this whispered in your ear. You flinched away from him but you were restrained by the ropes on your hands and legs, keeping you tied to the chair they’ve sat you on. “What do you say I go out there to greet him with a little piece of you, hmm?”

“F-fuck you.”

“Ah, the brave girl still has a mouth on her,” he chuckled, genuinely impressed by your ability to keep on talking even though every part of your body was in excruciating pain. “How about this, then: every time you say something to me, I make sure the part of you Yoongi gets to take home with him as a bit of a souvenir gets bigger, huh? I bet he’d love to have a piece of your flesh with him. He can carry it in his wallet and remember how he failed to—”

“You’re disgusting,” you spat at him after gathering all of your strength.

The blade dug deeper into your cheek and you felt it draw blood. You refused to scream and the man smiled even wider.

“You’re on board with my plan, then,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be. You always seemed like you follow instructions well. Don’t worry, I will—”

Suddenly, a loud crash of metal echoed around the room as the steel door was thrown off its hinges. Just as the man whipped his head to look at the unexpected visitor, you heard a powerful bang, and, in just a millisecond, the pressure of the knife on your face was relieved. Then, with a loud thud, the body of the man who’d held you captive landed on the floor. Dead.

“Baby,” Yoongi’s breathless voice interrupted the deadly silence and your eyes widened to see your husband by the door, smoke still coming out of his gun. “Fuck, I’m so sorry it took me so long. Oh, God, what have they done to you..?”

“Yoongi,” you exhaled, your heart seemingly stopping at the sight of him.

“Don’t talk,” he warned, immediately attacking the restraints on your hands and legs to get you out of here faster. “Save the last bits of your energy while I take you to the hospital, okay? I love you so much, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

J-Hope

“It took you a while,” Hoseok’s soft voice greeted you as you struggled to open your eyes. “Can you hear me, baby?”

Blinking wildly, you tried to adjust to the painful light around you. You couldn’t remember how you got here but you could tell by the beeping sounds of the machines and the blinding white walls around you that you were at the hospital.

“What happened?” you asked, your words coming out groggy and barely comprehensible. How long had you not spoken?

“There’s been an accident,” Hoseok said. You looked at him and, although you could recognize his features immediately, it still felt like you haven’t seen him in ages. “Someone had messed with the brakes of your car. You hit a—”

“—a tree,” you finished, remembering something in a painful flashback that made you hiss and try to reach for your head. The wires that kept you tied to the machines stopped you, however.

Hoseok jumped up from the spot next to your bed. “Don’t move so much, okay? You need to recover.”

“How long have I been here?” you asked, now able to remember the details of the crash – and even the paramedics coming to rescue your barely conscious body – but not being able to tell the time just yet.

“A couple of weeks,” he said slowly. “You suffered major head trauma. T-the doctors weren’t sure if you’d wake up at all but you showed positive improvement in the last few days. The damage to your brain wasn’t as severe as they’d initially thought.”

His voice was getting quieter with each sentence. He appeared blurry to you, so you squinted, trying to see his eyes clearer, and then noticed that he had tears in them.

“What happened?” you asked, wanting to touch his hand, but not being able to move. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m—I just—” he inhaled shakily. “I thought I’d lost you. I killed every one of the bastards who could have caused this but as soon as I realized that this wasn’t going to bring you back, I just—I didn’t know what to do. I spent every minute by your bed.”

“B-but you can’t do that,” you said. “You have work.”

“Oh, baby, no,” he swore he almost sobbed right then and there. “I don’t know what I was thinking not making you my main priority. Had I spent more time with you… had I checked up on you more often, this wouldn’t have happened. Y-you almost died because of my work. I swear, I would have died right there with you if you’d left me. I’m never letting my job put you in any sort of danger again. You’re my whole life and I won’t let anything take you away from me.”

RM

The man who had planned to chase his car hadn’t expected you to be in the same vehicle as well but, obviously, he saw this as an opportunity to hurt Namjoon even more by killing you instead.

The shot wasn’t fatal. You woke up in the hospital the next day but your husband wasn’t there to see it. He was plotting his revenge, unable to let this go. He blamed himself for putting you in this sort of danger in the first place and he didn’t think he could look you in the eyes and say the right words. And what was there that he could have said? He didn’t think a simple “sorry” would have sufficed after you almost died because of him.

The first time you saw Namjoon was on the day you were discarded from the hospital. Wheeling your saline drip stand around the hospital room, you packed what little belongings you had here into a bag that the paramedics have brought with you from the scene. You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened, but you were slowly remembering the details.

Then, just as you were about to call for a nurse to ask if you could use her phone since your own was dead, you saw him. He was standing on the doostep, looking almost heartbroken, and you forgot how to breathe as soon as your eyes met his.

Noticing how your body trembled a little at the sight of him, Namjoon entered the hospital room – despite the protests deep inside of his mind – and placed a hand on your waist, guiding you to your bed so you could sit.

“You’re here,” you whispered after he sat down next to you.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Namjoon spoke. Each word he said to you scarred his throat because he shouldn’t have been doing this. He was putting you in danger whenever he was near you. “I took care of the men who shot you. T-they won’t be a threat to anyone ever again.”

You looked away, the topic of death never settling quite right with you. “Okay…”

“That doesn’t mean that there won’t be others,” he added quickly. “I… I bring danger to you. I always knew that but I didn’t realize I wouldn’t always be able to protect you from it. I shouldn’t have taken you with me that day. I-I should have never even married you, I—”

“Don’t say that,” you cut him off, your eyes scared and full of tears. Just like they had been that night you were shot in Namjoon’s car. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replied, his voice breaking. He stole one last touch as he clutched your hand tightly in his. “I love you so much and that is exactly why I can’t let you be with me. I can’t let you die because of me.”

Jimin

The first time you woke up, you weren’t sure what was happening. Your surroundings blurred together but you were sure you didn’t recognize the room you were in. A dull punch sounded in the room and you felt electricity course through your body. You passed out before you could realize that you’ve been hit again.

The second time you woke up, there were loud screams everywhere. You thought you could smell fire but the taste of blood in your mouth felt too overwhelming for you to try to understand what was happening around you. This time, no punches came. You were simply not strong enough to stay conscious for longer.

The third time you woke up, you were in a white room. People dressed in pale blue uniforms were yelling at each other. As soon as they noticed that you were awake, even more panic ensued. A plastic, see-through mask landed on your face, and you felt yourself slip into the darkness again.

The fourth time you woke up, someone was holding you. There was a weird buzzing in your ears and somewhere, deep in your mind, the cruel scenarios of your assailants beating you up kept playing on repeat. But you weren’t there anymore. You were laying against something hard. A person, most likely, since you could feel their soft breath on your neck. It soothed your frayed nerves.

“W-wh—”

“Shh,” was the immediate response to the guttural sounds you’d made. “Don’t speak, sweetheart. You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell who was talking yet. Trying to recognize the voice hurt to much and yet the name of the person you wanted to see the most was at the tip of your tongue.

“J-Jimin…”

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, rocking you back and forth gently. Something wet hit your forehead and you realized he had to be crying. You’ve never seen him cry before. “I’m never leaving you. I’m s-so sorry.”

It was difficult for him to speak and the sound of his throat closing up after each word hurt you. It hurt almost more than your throbbing and yet, ironically, numbing headache.

“Why?” you asked. You knew you couldn’t formulate the question properly – and you weren’t sure what you were asking, anyway – so you didn’t even try.

Jimin understood, though. Noticing the nurses walking past the hospital room, he held onto you tighter. They already knew that whenever he came over, he always climbed into your hospital bed and held you against him, softly whispering encouraging words. Sometimes crying, too. And sometimes both.

“I let you down,” he said, another tear sliding down his pained face and landing softly on your cheek. “I didn’t protect you. You almost died because of me and I’m so sorry I didn’t keep my promise to keep you safe.”

V

Although Taehyung knew that your heart was truly bigger than the rational side of your brain, he still insisted you needed to learn how to use a handgun after the possible stalking incident a few days ago. He even got you a custom made one, with your name engraved in golden letters on the handle.

The gun was pretty – and that’s why you knew Taehyung’s influence was rubbing off on you; otherwise, you would have never found a firearm “pretty” – but you still refused to pick it up and join him in the basement of your house, where he had his practice room.

“Oh, come on, love,” Taehyung groaned after you told him no for the tenth time. “You did tell that guy you had a gun so he’d fuck off, didn’t you? So, why don’t you actually—”

“I don’t want to,” your response was immediate. “Carrying a gun is just one step away from killing.”

“It’s not,” Taehyung disagreed although he’s never used a gun just to scare someone. If he pulled his pistol out, he pressed the trigger. That didn’t mean that you have to do the same, though. “Look, let me at least teach you how to hold it properly, okay? That way, you can feel more secure, knowing you have an advantage.”

“And if they have a gun, too?”

“Well, then kill them before they get it out.”

“Taehyung, no—”

“Okay, sorry, right, I’m not forcing you to learn how to kill,” he softened at your warning tone. “I just want to know that when you go out, you will return back home at the end of the day. I won’t have to go looking for you, worrying that you were dead already.”

“What good would a gun do if I wasn’t going to actually use it?” you still hesitated. “I might still end up dead.”

“It’d give you confidence,” Taehyung said. “You would never come face-to-face with an attacker while having no means to protect yourself. They wouldn’t know you weren’t going to fire. They’d see the gun and they’d know you weren’t going to go down easy. And, most importantly, you’d know it, too. Confidence scares them. They’ll be running from you in no time and, if they’re lucky, they’ll get away from you before I get there.”

“I thought you wanted to teach me how to use a gun so you wouldn’t have to look after me.”

“I do, yeah,” he nodded and then smiled slightly. “But don’t expect me to still let you run off on your own. You could learn how to fire three different types of guns professionally, and I’d still tail you just to make sure no one threatened you.”

“Then what’s the point?” you pressed again. “If you’re always planning to be there for me, why do I have to—”

“No, but that is the point,” Taehyung cut you off. “There might come a day when I can’t be there. For one reason or the other, I might not show up on time or, not show up at all. I promise to protect you as long as I’m alive but if something happens to me—”

“Don’t.”

“—then I want you to know how to protect yourself,” he finished despite your shaky protest. “I’d never find peace if I’d left you here all alone.”

Jungkook

Although Jungkook saved you before any permanent damage was done, he was still beating himself up about the attack. He couldn’t believe that after so many years in this field, he still allowed you to enter the building without double-checking if it was safe. Thank God the guy who attacked you didn’t have a gun on him. Jungkook couldn’t even think about what could have happened if he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

“You okay?” you asked after you caught him staring at the wall of your bedroom, unblinking. “You’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“I haven’t,” he disagreed, shaking off the sudden trance he’d put himself in by recalling every single detail of your attack. He shuddered at the memory of those hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your air supply. “L-listen, how are you?”

“Me?” you raised your eyebrows, surprised by his question. “I’m okay. It’s me who’s worried about you.”

“I’m completely fine,” he said and then refrained from adding, aside from the crippling disappointment that I couldn’t protect you.

“You don’t look fine,” you insisted, “are you still thinking about the accident?” he winced at your question. “I told you it’s not your—”

“It is,” Jungkook said. “I’m the only person who could have prevented that situation from happening and I’m also the only person to blame for this threat even appearing in your life. He wouldn’t have attacked you if you weren’t my—”

“I trust you,” you interjected before he could put any more blame on himself. “I understand that this might happen if I stay with you and yet I’m still not leaving. I love you.”

“I—” his breath hitched. His mind always exploded with thoughts whenever you told him you loved him. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m asking you for too much by making you love me.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” you said. “It was my decision.”

He hesitated for only a moment before crossing the room and placing his hands on either side of your face. He pressed his lips to yours but his sweet taste only lingered at the tip of your tongue for a moment and then he was pulling away again.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “But I’ll learn from this. I won’t allow anyone else to put you in any kind of danger again. I promise you.”

masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

[bfire92]

Lou Ellen Blackstone - The Torch Bearer

I wrote this on my cellphone while traveling at night, so I appologize for any spelling mistakes and things that might not fit the book. There are three small chapters, inspired by three songs.

Read on FFN

Champion

I'm calling you from the future

To let you know we've made a mistake

There's a fog from the past that's giving me, giving me such a headache

-Fall Out Boy

"Will! Here!"

The voice was far away, like she was under water. It frightened her. Voices shouldn't be dimmed like that. They shouldn't come from people buried under hills of stone and bricks or people who were being swallowed by waves of water from a river.

"Over here! Help!"

  Help. Help them. She had screamed it, wailing in terror and tears. Blood on her hands. Blood on her armor. Blood in her face, in her mouth. She could still taste it and smell it. Warm and metallic.

  Wait, that wasn't a memory, was it?

"What happened? Who is she?"

"Fuck, Will, I just. I was just blowing up some stuff, I was thinking I'd block the street, right, and fuck. Will, fuck, I didn't know she was there. She was hiding."

  Was that blood running down her face? Her head was swimming and she lost all sense of direction. Then, she felt a pressure along her whole body. The ground? A bench?

"Cecil, she is not one of ours."

"Sure she is! She's human, ain't she. Didn't you take some hypocrite oath? Help everyone, or some shit like that."

  There had been skeletons. She had litterally seen the dead walk amongst them. She'd even seen one of them attack a kid, some son of Nike who would just never give up or back down. Too young, they had told him. His sisters had commanded him to go home. Al had even talked to Luke. But he just seemed to find his way back every time. She'd seen him fall to the ground after being smashed in the head. She'd seen him lie still and small on the asphalt. Then some monster had thrown itself towards the body. And she had screamed, because that didn't make sense. That didn't make sense at all. Weren't they on the same side?

"You're right. Of course you're right."

"Damn right I am!"

"Help me cut off her armor. Her head, she'll need stitches."

  Her brother, she'd hear him call for her under the piles of a fallen buildning. He'd screamed for several minutes while they dug. And then he'd gone quiet. Silent. Dead silent. One minute he was screaming her name. The next she'd know she would never hear his voice again.

  From the other side, she could hear a song. A soft voice and warm hands. The voice got louder and clearer, like she was rising in the water. She wanted to sink back down. She wanted to stay there. If she reached the surface, she would have to go back out on the streets, wouldn't she?

  The voice grew clearer. She was just below the surface now. She could feel pain. Pain in her head, in her side.

  Good, she thought. If she was to live, at least she wanted it to be painful.

  It had been a mistake. She knew that now, as she was rising from the water and the fog. But her mother had spoken to Al, and then he had promised them they would win.

  With a gasp, she broke the surface of whatever water she had been drowning in. A rush of air filled her lungs, making her back hurt like she had breathed in cold winter air. But the air here wasn't cold and crisp. It was warm and clammy, carrying the smell of blood and gods knew what else.

"Keep her still. I need to clean and stitch up that headwound." She recognized the voice, calm and tired. The voice of the song that had lured her to the surface.

"What, without anestetics or anything? Fuck, Will, that's cold, man.

  This one was different. It was sharp and demanding. She'd listened to it for a long time. It had carried her when she was drowning. Dragged her through the currents. Hadn't she planned to kill it? She couldn't remember why.

"We are running low on supplies. There are worse injuries." A hand touched her cheek. "Hey, can you hear me? Will you try to look at me?"

  She opened her eyes, but the world went spinning. All she could see was blue and blond and orange. She groaned.

"I need to clean your wound. You have some debrils in it. It might hurt, but you can take it, can't you? You're a proper champion, right?"

  She managed a small nod, but even that made her stomach twist.

"Good. Here we go. Cecil, make sure she lies still."

"Doctor's orders, girl." There was a nervous laughter. Then someone leaned over her, elbows holding her arms pinned against her sides, a chest keeping her from moving her upper body, and hands against either side of her head. It felt suffocating, and parts of her wanted to fight him off, but some other part knew what was going on and teld her to hold still.

  She could feel the tweezers poke around in the flesh along the side of her head, just above her ear. She could straight up hear them scratch against her head and even feel things being pulled out. Tears ran down her face and she couldn't help her legs from twitching and kicking. Everything burned every time alcohol flowed over the wound, and she grit her teeth. Still, she knew, this wasn't really painful. This was nothing against being crushed under gravel or drowned in the river or hit in the head and ripped apart.

  When the voice was done with the needle, the pressure over her chest let her go, and hands started running over her body.

"She has a lot of fractures. A broken finger, broken ribs. No internal bleeding."

"I think she god hit in the head by something from the explosion. But there was so much blood, I thought... You know, she wasn't even moving."

"Headinjuries bleed a lot. I am more worried about the concussion. She has to stay still. We will keep an eye on her. Perhaps..."

"Tie her up?"

  Silence.

"Yeah. You good with knots?"

"Knots, locks, same thing, really. I will make sure she stays in place."

"Good. Hey?" A warm hand on cheek again. "Are you with us? What's your name?"

  Her head was still swimming, but she dared open her eyes. Two boys were sitting on the floor by her side. Both were grimy and tired. Their clothes had spots of dried and fresh blood. Her blood? One wore an armor in scratched up bronze.

  They had asked her a question. She gave it some thought. Not because she worried about the consequenses of telling them anything, but because the information had to be collected from the depths of the waters she had just surfaced from.

"Lou," she whispered. Her voice was hoarce and unfamiliar, a broken voice of someone much older than herself. "Lou Ellen Blackstone."

Kids In The Dark

Here we are at the top of the hill

A hill that's quietly crumbling

Been a while since you dressed for the kill

The kill that sent me tumbling

Looking up, I see a falling star

And watch its fire burn into the floor

And I am left standing on the edge

Wondering why we fall so hard, why we fall so hard

-All Time Low

Lou Ellen lifted the last of the bags out of the van and handed it to one of her younger brothers. He whinced as he grabbed it, but hoisted it onto his back.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry it for you? Your arm hasn't healed yet."

  But he shook his head and mumbled something under his breath before he shuffled off.

She watched him warily as he joined the others, before she picked up her own small shoulder bag and walked around the van.

  Alabaster was leaning against the hood, waiting for her with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"Theo should let his arm rest," he said and nodded towards their brother. "Make sure someone from the Apollo cabin has a look at it, would you?"

"I know just the guy," Lou Ellen said. Alabaster huffed, but didn't say anything. They both knew that if they picked up that discussion again, they would end up arguing, and Lou Ellen would prefer to avoid that for once.

  There had been too many harsh words the past month, ever since Manhattan. Ever since she was wounded, and Cecil found her and took her to their makeshift infermary. Ever since they lost and she voted for a truce. Ever since she was chosen to represent the children of Hecate when Alabaster was deamed "too influental, too corrupted".

  Ever since they realized they would never come to an agreement. And now, there was no time left to do any more attempts. They would just have to agree to disagree.

  Her throat tightened.

"You'll IM us, right?" she asked. "Keep us updated on how you are doing?"

Alabaster glared at his shoes.

"You know I can't."

"We could write?"

"Lou..."

"Just an adress, so I can visit?"

"Stop!"

    Even the other kids stopped talking and looked up. One reassuring nod from Alabaster, and they all turned their attention back to their quiet conversation. It made her sigh.

"They will never trust me like they trust you," Lou Ellen whispered, and regretted it just as she said it. It was a thought that had kept her awake for weeks, but speaking it out loud made it so much more true. As a child of Hecate, she was very aware of the power words held.

"Give them time," Alabaster said softly, without any sign of malice. "You were second in command, everyone knows you are a great leader. They are just worried about what awaits them at camp. Most of them have never even been here, they were left alone in the dark to fend for themselves."

  The phracing made Lou Ellen frown.

"Al?"

"You have spark, Lou. That is why you are a leader. You light up that same spark in others." He stood and tapped his thighs. "I actually have something for you. Hold on."

  He opened the door on the driver's side and Lou Ellen could hear him search for something in his backpack. When he came back around, he was holding an unlit torch.

"I know you love puns, Lou. So..." Alabaster coughed, just loud enough to get their siblings attention.

"Lou Ellen, I am handing over the torch to you."

  She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as Alabaster took her hand in his and placed it around the wood. "I trust you. I trust you will look after our brothers and sisters. And..." he stared at her, his green eyes serious and steely, "I trust you will honor those we have lost."

  She made sure not to blink as she nodded. "I will."

  Finally, Alabaster looked away. He made an honorable attempt to smile as he held out his arms towards the others.

"One last hug before I am off, guys?"

  The way he said it made it sound like he was just off on holiday, but it didn't fool anyone. Lou Ellen stepped back and watched as every single one of her siblings hugged him and then tried to dry away the tears from their cheeks. Alabaster whispered friendly messages and made sure every rib got properly fractured. When everyone else had said their goodbyes, Lou Ellen threw her arms around him and tried to achieve some kind of closure by hugging the last of her feelings out of her body. He whispered one last command to her, too low for anyone else to hear.

"Do not forget anyone, got it? Dead or alive."

  Then he gently pushed her away, and without making eyecontact with anyone, he went straight for the van.

  They watched as it disapeared in the dark. When the fainth sound of the engine got swallowed by the wind in the trees, Lou Ellen drew a couple of deep breaths. Her throat was still tight and her eyes stung, but her cheeks were dry. Once she spoke, she was content to hear that her voice was steady and light.

"Okay then. Off we go."

  She spoke an incantation and the torch lit up with a bright, orange flame.

  Her siblings picked up their bags and backpacks. Two of them kept their arms around each other and sniffed. Then they followed as she led the way down the hill.

Mineshaft

The list of things I used to be is longer than the list of things I am

Ex-lover, ex-friend

Ex-communicated atheist and an ex-patriot

Living in the heartland

Living on the small chance

Luck would save the last dance

-Dessa

There were no clouds to hide the stars, but the thin cresent moon didn't give her much light. It didn't matter, though. The torch in her hand burned as bightly as it had that night she had lead her siblings to camp a year and a half ago. It felt right to light it up again tonight. As if she was leading more brothers and sisters home. It gave her a flash of deja-vu, a feeling that she should know what was to happen next.

  Lou Ellen had assumed the campfire would be cold coal and stubborn everlasting embers, but it burned as strong and warm as it had when they had left it earlier that night. Her own torch suddenly seemed small next to it, and with just a flick of her hand and a commanding word, it went out.

  The fire invited her forward and reminded her of a home she had once had, but lost, and of people who should have been here with her, but who too had been lost.

  People she thought about every day, but it wasn't until tonight that she dared ask about them. She was afraid of what answers she might get. With the Grove of Dodona close by, asking questions didn't feel too safe, even with the chimes she knew played an improvised melody of prophecies. It had basically kidnapped Cecil earlier this year, and ever since, she had hosted what she believed was a healthy scepticism towards it.

  But she had come to discover other ways to ask. She felt ready now, with Mirandas words still echoing in her head and beconing her forward.

  Lou Ellen reached out her hand over the hot flames. It stang, but then words emerged on the back of her hand, written in glowing cursive of embers. The burning sensation stopped, and she lowered her hand further before closing her eyes. She started chanting a long verse in ancient Greek. A command and a plea, for her mother Hecate, the carrier of the torches. For Hestia, who tended the flame sometimes used as a funeral pyre. For Hades, who kept the souls who had lived for a moment and stayed dead for eternity.

  She could feel the currents of the mist around her, curiously attracted to the strong magic. Her hands felt prickly and heavy with it. Time became as flowing and fleeting as water and mist. Had she finished her verse and started all over again? Or had she just begun? In her chest, she felt a tug. A summoning. Like pulling on a rope that dissapeared into the darkness of a well, waiting to see the dim outline of the bucket in the depths.

A noise behind her made her jump and she broke off her chanting. She turned, the magic she had summoned still stirring in her hands and chest.

  At first, she thought the intruder was a stranger. The mist tightened around her, shaping her apperance to make her look more terryfying - tall, fit, strong, and with a glow in her eyes that once had made enemies cringe as she stared them down.

  Then, he spoke.

"Nice trick, Lou, but you do not fool me. Those pink sweatpants are not exactly frightening. Your behind litterally says CUTIE."

"Nico?" Even to her own ears, her voice was unfamiliar and deep, a husky growl. She allowed the mist to drift away from her like cold waves.

  It was no surprise that she hadn't recognized him. Underneath the usual black bomber jacket, he wore an over-sized orange tee and a pair of grey plated pyjamas pants. The back of his hair stuck out in an odd angle, as if he had gone to bed with wet hair and forgot to brush it. In the dim and flickering light, he looked like a bad charicature of himself. Almost a perfect replica, but slightly off.

  In an attempt to regain controll of the situation, she put on her best smirk, the one that would be worthy of a child of Hermes.

"You are the one to talk. Are you testing out a new look? I must say, it does not suit you."

"Very funny," he huffed. "Your spell woke me up."

  That took her off guard.

"It... did?" Then he knew what she had attempted?

  He shrugged and walked up to her to stand by the fire.

"What did you expect? You wanted information about the dead, didn't you? Well, here I am."

  When she didn't react, he rubbed his eyes, before explaining with a softer voice.

"You asked for a way to find out what happened to the souls of the dead demigods who fought under Kronos. I suppose it worked. It woke me up and pulled me here. You can talk to me."

  It wasn't that she hadn't considered it. Ever since Nico had returned last summer, the question had simmered in the surface of her mind every time he was around. It was something about his aura that made memories of her dead siblings more vivid. If she sat next to him by the campfire before bedtime, she would dream of them. Usually, she would dream of things that made her happy. She would remember their smiles. The little quirks and ticks. Whole conversations they once had.

  Sometimes, though, she would have nightmares. A distant cry for help deep down under gravel and bricks. The weight of a sister wrapped in a shawl, whom she had carried to the funeral pyre last summer. And worse, so much worse, screams from down below the earth, beyond her reach.

  Maybe she was a masochist, but she often tried to stay close to Nico before bed. There were so many she hadn't been able to save. The least she could do was to dream about them and keep their memory alive.

  Lou Ellen stared into the flames.

"Miranda said some things today. It made me think," she said, feeling she had to explain why she was here only now. "Things got a bit... heated. She said she was sorry, she really was, but a lot of it was true. Me, my brothers and sisters, we did fight on the losing side. We fought you. We fought to kill."

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. In contrast to the dancing light of the flames, were shaddows that lingered and clinged to him wherever they could find refuge. It made his face seem hollow, and reminded her of the skull shaped helmet he had worn when she first saw him. When he was just another nameless demigod to attack and preferably wound.

"I would have killed you, given the chance. If i couldn't wound you, I would rather see you dead than alive."

  Nico nodded.

"Likewise."

"What would Hades do to me, if I had slaughtered his only child. Even if it was to stop you from killing one of my friends or siblings." It wasn't a question, and they both knew. Instead, they watched the flames flicker and embers rise from the fire.

 Right here, a year ago, she had seen the remaints of her sister been devoured by warm fire. Had she been redeamed? Lou Ellen remembered how she had cried every night for a month after Manhattan, because she had killed an other demigod. After they came to camp, she had found out who he was. She had devoted so much time to find out everything about the unclaimed boy from the Hermes cabin, she began mumbeling his name in her sleep. When the Romans surrounded camp, she'd taken to scream it, until Will made Lou Ellen cook a sleeping potion that would make her sleep without dreams.

  Did she ever meet him in the underworld? Had she been given the possibility to tell him how sorry she was? Had he forgiven her?

"I will see what I can do for them," Nico evetually said, his eyes still on the fire. "Spring is coming. Hades is not very... diplomatic in spring. But I will do what I can."

  Her eyes stung, and she was pretty sure it wasn't from campfire smoke.

"Nico?"

"They have not gone to the fields of punishment. Their souls partly belong to Aries, as they are victims of war on the losing side. He would not want his souls to be tortured. It would make them too weak to fight. Maybe I can have them reincarnated, if Aries and Hades would allow it."

  Her breath felt shaky, and she hurried to summon the mist to her. It caressed Lou Ellen's cheeks with cold touches, hiding her tears and the sound of her sobs. If Nico knew, he didn't say anything, but let her have the silence to herself.

  After a couple of minutes, the tears stopped running and though her throat still felt thick and tight and her eyes still stung, she allowed the mist to drift away.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarce and raspy.

"It is the least I ca-"

  She embrazed him and squeezed him tight, allowing him to take his time to relax. It took five heartbeats for him to hug her back, and she didn't let go until she had counted another seven. He didn't look directly at her, but scratched his nose awkwardly.

"You should probably try to get some sleep, Lou. I'll talk to Chiron in the morning about leaving for the Underworld for a few days."

"Yeah," she said, smiling tiredly, and turned to go. When he didn't follow, she stopped and looked back at him.

"You not coming?"

  He shrugged.

"There are other friends I want to talk to now that I am here anyway. Just go ahead." Nico sat down by the fire. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay." She looked around, but there were no one else but them. But she supposed Nico knew more about presents in the darkness than she did. "I manipulated the mist to fool the harpies, but it probably won't last for more than an hour. Try not to get eaten, di Angelo." After a few steps, she stopped again and grinned at Nico. "Oh, and Nico, by the way. I totally recognize the smell of Will's deodorant on that shirt."

"Oh, shut up, Blackstone," was his only comment, but as she walked back to the cabin, she was sure she could hear Nico talk to himself by the hearthfire.

  That night, Lou Ellen dreamt of her siblings, even more vividly than she had ever done before. She dreamt of joyful memories, things that had happened long ago. When she woke the next morning, the memories still lingered in her mind.

~•°•~•°•~

Champion - Fall Out Boy

Kids In The Dark - All Time Low

Mineshaft - Dessa

[stargazerdaisy]

This is all Kylia's fault

Like seriously.  ALL HER FAULT.  She just had to tag me in this post and then my stupid brain spun off into another dimension and vomited up 1700 words over the course of the day.

THIS IS SO CRACKY I AM ALMOST EMBARRASSED. 

So if you think this is just the stupidest thing you've ever read, blame @kyliafanfiction.  I had no control over this or at all.

Enjoy.  I hope.

Skye is digging through security code for the base, making sure everything is up to snuff.  When she starts noticing some weirdness in the code.  It catches her eye, and let’s face it, it’s new, which makes it interesting.  So she goes digging.  And digging.  And digging.  Because, Skye.  At first it’s just quirked eyebrows.  Then they start to pinch.  Then her brow gets positively furrowed.  By this time, there are mutters escaping intermittently.  Which then turn into sighs, and then, growls.  Finally, she shrieks, “FITZ! GET IN HERE!”

“What now?” he huffs, rolling his eyes at her dramatics.

“I think I found something that honestly, is just completely insane and I’m probably crazy, but I really don’t think I am.  I need you to check it and see if you can tell if it’s real or not.”  Skye steps back from the computer, head tilted, as if reading the code sideways will help it make more sense. 

Fitz slides around her to get a look at the screen, grumbling quietly to himself about how no one can ever do anything without him, and if he wasn’t here, the entire base would collapse under the weight of everyone’s expectations alone, and that’s before we even get to all the structural damage they keep causing.  But as he starts examining the screen, his murmurs slow down and eventually stop mid-sentence.  His mouth hangs open and he can’t even blink.

“No way.  This can’t be…”

“Right?!” Skye screeches.  “You see it too, don’t you?”

“But there’s no way that could be right.  That can’t actually be what’s happening.” Fitz pauses for a moment, then turns to look at his friend.  “Can it?”

“I’m not saying it makes sense, but the code is all there.  I can’t find a flaw with it,” she confirms. 

“Woooooow, I’m going to need to need a minute,” Fitz says, plopping into the chair Skye has just vacated. 

The silence stretches on as they each try to make sense of the information on the computer.  Finally, Skye breaks it.

“So,” she begins, “when and how do we tell them?”

“No, we can’t,” Fitz replies.

“I think we have to,” Skye says.  “Don’t they deserve to know?”

“But will it actually help them?  Will there actually be any value in telling them they have no control over their own lives?”

“Oh Fitz, are you on this again?” Simmons says as she breezes into the room, only having heard the last part of his thought.  “We are not cursed.  We are writing our own destiny, not the other way around.”

Skye and Fitz look at each other in alarm.  Do they set her straight or let her be with her mistaken assumption?

“I don’t know, Jemma,” Elena says, coming in behind her.  “We’ve seen an awful lot of stuff happen that is so crazy, it doesn’t seem like it could have happened without some external force directing it.”

“That doesn’t mean it was pre-destined,” Mack says following his girlfriend.  “If we don’t have power over our own choices, what’s the point?  I’m not about to surrender my agency.  We can change things.”

“But how you would know if you did or did not have agency?  It’s not like characters in a play know that they’re characters in a play.  They think they’re regular people just living their lives.”

“Fitz!” Skye hisses.  “Might that be a little too on the nose?”

Fitz merely shrugs.    

“You’re literally no help,” Skye scowls.  “You tell me we shouldn’t say anything and now we’re having some deep philosophical discussion about free will.”

“Tell us what?” Coulson asks, popping in at an absurdly convenient time, as if it was choreographed. 

“What did you do now?” May pipes in, stern expression as always.

“Oh my gosh, we didn’t do anything!” Skye says exasperatedly.  “I just found some weird stuff when I was going through the security code.”

“And what did you find?” Coulson prompts, when it is clear Skye wasn’t going to elaborate.

She exchanges another look with Fitz.  He shakes his head no, she mouths ‘Please!’ at him, he grimaces and starts gesturing more vehemently to keep quiet, while she gets more animated with her pleas, all the while not a single word is actually spoken. 

Finally, May loses her patience and demands, “Someone better explain what is going on right now.”

Skye swallows guiltily and shoots Fitz one last look.  He throws his hands up in defeat and turns away in frustration. 

“Okay, so, um, you might want to sit down for this,” she starts. 

“Get to the point,” May insists. 

“Fine.  But remember, you asked for it.”  One last deep breath and she launches into her explanation.  “So when I was looking through the code, trying to spot and fix any weak spots, I noticed some weird stuff.  I followed it and well, I’m not sure how to say this, but…  We’re characters in a TV show.”

Stunned silence follows her announcement.  Then, seemingly on cue, the entire group bursts into laughter. 

“Oh Skye, that’s hilarious,” Jemma says.  “As if any of us are interesting enough for a television show.”

Mack guffaws.  “If this was a TV show, people would constantly be making fun of it for how ridiculous it is.”

“Speak for yourself,” Coulson says.  “I am plenty interesting.  Anyone would love to know more about my robot hand and its gadgetry that would make Tony Stark jealous.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Phil,” May says flatly.  But seeing Skye’s irritated expression in response to all the laughter, she asks, “How can you tell, Skye?”

“I know it sounds crazy.  Trust me, I do.  I didn’t believe it either.  I made Fitz come check it with me,” Skye defends herself.  “Tell them Fitz!”

Fitz huffs, but replies.  “It doesn’t make sense.  But the code is there.  I saw what Skye is describing.  She knows code way better than I do, so If I saw and she can describe it, then it’s probably true.”

“So what, this is like the Framework?” Elena asks, her eyes flitting across everyone.  “We’re just simulations?”

“Sort of,” Skye says.  “What’s different is that it’s not running automatically.  In the Framework, Aida had just set up the parameters and algorithms and the program ran itself from there.  This is different.  There is someone, or several someones most likely, intentionally picking and choosing and directing what happens to us.  Like, everything.  For the past 5 or so years.”

The room is quiet once again, but the tension is palpable. 

“You mean someone chose to cut off my arms?” Elena asks angrily.

“Mine too?” Coulson adds, shocked.

“They sent me to space on purpose?! TWICE?!?!” Jemma shrieks.

“And gave me brain damage!” Fitz says.

“And shot me!” Skye cries. 

“And made me dance,” May exclaims, disdain and loathing dripping from every word. 

“So we aren’t real?” Mack says.  “This is making my brain hurt.”

“Like that’s hard, Turtle Man,” Elena snarks. 

“Who are these people that think they can just do this and we’ll have nothing to say?” Coulson demands.

Skye’s mouth twists into a scowl.  “Best I can tell, there are several people involved, but it mostly comes down to two people.  They make all the major decisions and even write a lot of it.  So they’re definitely the ones to blame.”

“Geez, it’s like they get off on torturing people as much as possible,” Simmons complains.  “What the hell is wrong with them?!”

Without warning, Kara, Ward, and Lincoln manifest in the room, as if pulled from beyond the grave.  “WHO DID WHAT NOW?!?!?!” they all scream in unison.

“Ummm…” stammers Skye. 

“Well, that is fucking bullshit,” Kara curses.

“Tell me about it,” Ward glowers.

“I got blown up in a spaceship, just because someone thought it would be entertainment? Are you kidding me?!” Lincoln hisses.

“Look at me!  I basically died three times!” Ward says.

“At least they liked you enough to keep bringing you back,” Lincoln points out. 

“At least they remember you.  They don’t even mention me ever again!” Kara cries.  “I was just a plot point to them, only useful when they needed me to prove something.  And they sucked at that too.”

“As opposed to having you possessed by an alien squid-slug-thing after you have your chest caved in?  -Thanks for that, by the way, Coulson – But, I don’t know.  I probably would have preferred getting forgotten all together.” 

Kara shrugs noncommittally.  Either option seems pretty crappy. 

“Well, this is freaking depressing,” Fitz says.  Everyone nods glumly in agreement.

After a moment, Coulson speaks.  “To think, all of this craziness: Hydra coming out of the shadows – thanks for that, Ward – to Skye’s crazy parents to the Inhumans to Radcliffe and Aida and now going to the future and coming back; none of it was happenstance.  It was all on purpose.  Just…..wow.”

“At least you got brought back to life,” Kara mutters under her breath.  The couple people closest to her, Lincoln and Skye snicker but try to hide it. 

The group lapses into quiet as they each contemplate what this information means for them.  Moments of enlightenment flicker across their faces one by one, as they remember some other event or instance where they had thought it was just luck – good or bad.  How those recognitions built up emotionally varies.  Bewilderment and confusion reign for some, others are angry and seething, more still are somewhere in between.  Fear is a significant factor for all of them.  If all of this had happened already, what will be coming next? 

“It’s even worse, you guys,” Fitz says, realization suddenly dawning on him.  Everyone turns to look at him.  “They kills dogs.”

It is so silent you could hear a pin drop.  No one dares to breathe.  Evocative of a school of fish, they all turn slowly, in perfect synchronization, towards a single point.  Almost like...they were looking at a camera.

“I’ll kill them,” May hisses.

“Not if I get there first!” Ward bellows.

And just like that, they all took off in a charge, scrambling to get to their tormentors and make them regret ever daring to mess with them. 

[sebbybooks]

To Be Continued

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

🕊 Tagged for updates🕊 @crystallimythium @multifandomluvz @buckyappreciationsociety @bunchofandoms @deanmonslittleangel @seargantbcky @learisa @mjuikoli @ophcelia @sleepdeprivedchildren @aesthetic-bbygoats

“We met each other by chance, then happened upon one another due to fate. I swear if I see your face around this city again it will be because it is our first date.” -Sebastian Stan

On September 25th the love of my life asked me to marry him. We were dining inside of The Whisper Restaurant when it happened. It was a full house and we were seated at a table that served two. When the live music stopped he proceeded to get up from his chair pulling a dainty little turquoise box out from his pocket. The live music stopped playing and it was as though the room fell completely silent. I could hear the exact moment when they all inhaled their breath, holding it for a dramatic pause. He then recited words to me that were spoken so eloquently. Causing me to make up my mind suddenly.

I grabbed my purse from around the arm of my chair, deliberating back and forth if I should’ve packed a bag for my departure. The moment was so sudden and my head was full. I didn’t know where I was headed I just knew I needed to get lost for a while. I got a ride to the nearest station and I purchased a ticket for the next train out of here. The trip lasted for only a few hours, but I entered a different kind of wonderland. Maybe I had bit of more than I could chew but my taste for the big apple was plentiful. To me it was a paradise and paradox tangled into one.

I stood in front of buildings that looked like it could touch the clouds that passed by. The nonstop noise coming from the cars and people all confluence into its own symphony of sound. The best part was finding yourself in a place you didn’t know you needed to be until you arrived. I could go on and on about the sights, scents, and sound. Those few days there I will surely never forget.

However, I will say it was almost like being in a terrible fiction written by someone who loved complicated endings and I was its muse. He should’ve came with warnings signs, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t say Sebastian Stan was the sole reason I remember my time spent there so well.

It was still early in the morning when I decided to get up to start my day. It was expected that I would be waking up to several messages from a range of people with the same question on their mind: Where the hell was Sienna Portwood? I did my regular morning routine with the limited resources I had. My outfit wasn’t necessarily ideal. I purchased a couple of clothing items from the hotel gift shop. Nearly everything I got had printed I heart New York in some shape or form. Once I was finally done it was time for me to go venture out of my room and explore.

As I navigated my way through an actual sea of people, I kept my music playing in my ears as I followed down the same cobblestone paved sidewalk into the park . What was I even doing here? I thought to myself repeatedly. What frightened me the most was that I felt so compelled to leave my own city and escape to the next. It felt like I had been walking for twenty minutes by now, my feet just carrying me along as I go. I kept looking onward into the distance until I saw something that finally made me want to stop.

My eyes were certainly not playing tricks on me because I wasn’t the only one who had noticed him. He was smiling in a distance surrounded by a small group of three. Their exchange with him seemed brief, though as they walked away they couldn’t have looked happier. I stood next to a row of locked bicycles, with my eyes still looking in the direction of where Sebastian was. I watched as he stood there looking down at something on his phone quite possibly. I wanted to go up to him, but the numbing sensations in my feet was preventing me from walking up to him. I should’ve began walking away or even looked elsewhere because now the Sebastian Stan that I was so hopelessly staring at, had made permanent eye contact with me.

He probably assumed the worse when he had finally realized I was standing in the distance like a mad woman. I started walking in the opposing direction turning my head towards the traffic to my right, pretending like I was looking for a particular place that I needed to be. The way I remembered it I could’ve sworn I was walking quickly to get passed him. He had bent down to fix his shoelace completely unbothered my nearing presence. When I finally made it pass Sebastian I started to hear the sound of laughter behind me.

I stopped walking abruptly and turned around to see who it was coming from. Standing up tall he had found something about me to be quite humorous. His skin was glistening from sweat and his thick brown locks stuck out wildly on his head. From what I could tell he was in the middle of a run. I stood in front of him a few paces apart with my body arched, not completely turned around.

“Is there something you need Miss?” His hands were pressed on his hips, eyebrows raised in question ,while letting out a breathy sigh. “No.” I said flatly. I had to control my breathing because I was feeling an emotion like excitement, nervousness, and confusion bottled in one.

There was that laugh again.

“I’m sorry is there something funny about me?” I walked a little closer, but remembering to keep my distance.

“Oh God no! It’s just that I noticed you over there and I didn’t know if you were coming up to me or if I should just wait and go over to you.” He paused.

“You thought I wanted a picture with you?” I weighed my options because I didn’t know if I should start laughing or start smiling at the possibility.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He asked steadily. Sebastian thought about it for a moment and for a second I was afraid I offended him.

So many things I wanted to say crammed in my head at once and I didn’t know which one to pick first. He patiently stood there waiting on me to say something I thought of all the ways of trying not to embarrass myself. “I just wanted to say hello .” I breathed out.

“You’re serious?” He laughed again.

“Well clearly I’m not photogenic so I’ll take what I can get.”

“And clearly that’s a lie.” Sebastian stated. At the expense of being completely dramatic, I was certain that my heart skipped a beat.

We both then smiled at one another and I could tell he was slightly bashful. Whereas I was undoubtedly diffident. I wasn’t sure how I should carry out the conversation that was slowly flourishing. I hate brief silences that wash over leaving us both standing there grinning like fools. I asked myself why was he even still standing there talking to me? My awkward nature took over and I began to stare past his head at the scenery up ahead.

“Do you know how to get to where you are headed?” Sebastian asked , pulling me out of my daze.

“What gave me away?” I questioned. He pointed his finger to my chest but I looked down and noticed it was my touristy apparel that screamed newcomer.

I crossed my arms and loosened up my stance. “Are you always this friendly with everyone you encounter?”

“I don’t think of myself as friendly. I’m just a decent guy.” He said.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked him. Sebastian shook his head and he gaped at me for at least half a minute before he started to smile.

“Not entirely.” He answered slowly and I hung onto every syllable. “So where are you from?” He asked as he tightly wrapped the cord of his headphones around his phone, which compelled me to pull mine out of my ears.

“You ask a lot of questions.” I squinted.

“It’s a bad habit of mine.” He rubbed the back of his head and I could sense another question brewing on the tip of his tongue. “Your husband is probably expecting you I won’t keep you any longer.” Sebastian said abruptly. His gleeful demeanor changed to impassive and stony.

“Huh?” The word slipped out of my mouth from utter confusion.

“Take care.” He said before jogging off.

My mind was in a bit of a tailspin, because of what just took place before my very eyes. I had never imagined meeting him before today and even now I wasn’t sure what to expect. I almost wanted to turn around and find him still standing behind me, but that was extreme wishful thinking. I covered my face with my hand , because I was embarrassed by my own thought. Then it hit me, well it roughly rubbed against the bridge of my nose. Sebastian must have caught glance at my engagement ring, though I still find it confusing why it would bother him? Or maybe it didn’t and I was seeing what I wanted to see.

Although, if I knew in that moment what I know now I probably would have walked down a completely different sidewalk. It wasn’t until a few hours I would see Sebastian again and well that encounter was definitely one I can’t seem to let myself forget. I did not think it was possible to instantaneously hate someone like I hated him.

{Part 1 out of 3}