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jungshookz · 4 years

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cream a little dream of me; knj

➺ pairing; kim namjoon x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe, you’ve been asking for this and i’m finally here to tell you that this is smut! nsfw! 18+! oral sex (receiving)! dirty talk! namjoon has a dirty mouth and y/n is into that!! y/n’s a great listener and namjoon is very into that!! also frosting is involved somewhere

➺ wordcount: 8.9k

➺ summary; y/n has a wet dream about namjoon and yoongi just wants to help his best friend get laid.

➺ what to expect; “it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?”

➺ optional reading: here’s the link to la vie en bonsai if you haven’t read it yet or if you just want to experience the story all over again!

»»————-　☁️　————-««

to say the least, yoongi is… confused.

in the three years that he’s been friends with you, he likes to think that he’s seen every single one of your emotions

but this?

this is different somehow… yet he can’t quite put his finger on what’s so different about it...

he’s seen elated y/n

he’s seen devastated y/n

he’s seen infuriated y/n

he’s seen stressed out y/n

but this y/n?

the starry-eyed and constantly looking like you’re day dreaming y/n?

he can safely say he’s never seen this version of you before and it’s a little concerning because now he has no idea what the protocol is

even back when you guys were in university you practically never daydreamed during lectures

you were always focused on the professor and whatever powerpoint was playing on the screen with a concerning amount of intensity

one time, yoongi put his hand over your eyes just to be funny and you nearly snapped his wrist off

“okay, seriously?” yoongi waves his hand in front of your face for the fifth time in half an hour before shaking his head gently, “what’s gotten into you?”

you blink quickly when you snap out of your little daze, looking at him and setting the bowl of batter down on the counter before checking out the damage you’ve done

you’re supposed to fold this batter

not whIP it

now it’s ruined and you’re going to have to start all over!

“i don’t know what that batter ever did to you, but you might need to take it down a notch before you sprain your wrist…” yoongi trails off, leaning over a little and wondering if he can get away with dipping his finger in for a teeny tiny taste

sure, he might get salmonella or whatever from ingesting raw eggs, but it’ll be worth it

“also, what are you even making?” he frowns, gesturing to all the items splayed on the counter, “because there are like ten different things going on here-”

you look around the kitchen before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

you... don’t really have an answer for him

there’s bread dough over here

three bowls of frosting (chocolate, cream cheese, buttercream) over there

some chopped up peaches on the cutting board

the puff pastry is de-frosting in the fridge

there’s a pie baking in the oven at the moment

you just finished greasing up a mini cupcake tin

and don’t forget about the bowl of batter you’re currently whipping the life out of

(let the record show that you have no idea what you’re making. you have no clue what this batter is for. and why’d you take out your set of food-colouring dye??)

you just needed to let off some steam and this is the only way you know hoW

“isn’t this great? working out in the comfort of my own personal gym…”

both you and yoongi look over towards the kitchen door when you hear jin’s voice ring through namjoon’s laptop from the living room

yoongi perks up in interest when you suddenly scurry over to spy at namjoon through the crack of the door before he gets up to follow you

“yeah, easy for you to say-” namjoon grunts as he pushes himself up off the ground so he can clap his hands together quickly before his palms land back on the ground in a solid thump

he thought push-ups were already awful as is so he wasn’t very pleased when jin told him to start doing them with claps in between each set

also, jin has access to a full-blown gym in his house, but namjoon doesn’t have any access to actual weights so he’s had to resort to using jugs of water instead

it’s actually working out pretty well!

he took the sweeper part of the broom off and then used a lot of duct tape (and patience) to tape the jugs to both sides of the pole

he felt like he was mulan from that one part of the movie except mulan is probably physically stronger than him

“you know, i’m surprised he hasn’t smashed his face against the floor yet...” yoongi snorts as he continues to peer at namjoon over your shoulder

he waits a couple seconds for you to respond but frowns when you let out a short little sigh while keeping your eyes glued on your sweaty boyfriend

...

see?!

you’re doing it again!!!!

you have your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth and your eyes have gone all lidded and hazy

your grip around the edge of the door is really tight and your knuckles are going kind of white

good god

yoongi narrows his eyes suspiciously before jabbing your shoulder roughly, “hey. what are you thinking about?”

you shake your head a little too quickly for his liking before turning back around and brushing past him to get back to the counter

huh

okay

something’s up for sure

he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad or whatever but he’s going to find out

your cheeks and the tips of your ears are a little flushed now which is even more interesting

what could possibly be going on in that little noggin of yours?

“tell me what you were thinking about.” yoongi sits back down on the stool as he stares you down across the counter, “y/n- look at me.”

“i’m not-” you glance up at yoongi for a quick second before looking back down, “nothing!” you mutter, your arm starting to move faster as you continue whipping the mystery batter

yoongi immediately points to the ball of dough sitting a couple feet away from him, “tell me what you were thinking about or i’ll eat that ball of raw dough right noW-”

“-!” you set the bowl down before scrambling to move the dough out of yoongi’s reach

he’s eaten raw dough before (it was raw cookie dough and he took bites of it every time you turned to face away from him) which resulted in him suffering for like 48 hours and you’re not taking any chances

“you can’t keep secrets from me.” yoongi deadpans, “aren’t we best friends? don’t you trust me?” he bats his lashes at you before pushing his bottom lip out in a pout, “because i certainly trust you… and you, out of all people, should know how hard it is for me to trust someone…”

your eye twitches

you know he’s only saying all of this to butter you up so that you’ll inevitably give in and tell him what’s going on... and you hate that it’s actually working...

look at that face!

those cheeks!!!

those eyes!!!!

“i…” you trail off, biting the inside of your cheek as you contemplate whether it’s a good idea or not to tell yoongi what exactly’s been going on with you lately

if you tell him, he’ll stop bugging you about it

then again, if you tell him, he might keep bugging you about it

but he’s already suspicious of you so it seems like you don’t really have a choice...

this is really a lose-lose situation, if you think about it

...damn.

“hey, do you remember that time you were crying really hard and i made you feel better by telling you that i kind of sort of loved you...?” yoongi mentions casually while inspecting his nail beds, his eyes flickering up towards your face for a quick second to see your reaction

he bites back a smirk of success when he hears you let out a sigh

ha HA

hook, line, and sinker bABY

“okay, fine, but-” you slam the bowl down on the counter before placing your hands on your hips, ”it’s a secret. between us!” you gesture for him to come over to you

“god, finally-!” yoongi nods enthusiastically and hops off the stool before scurrying over to join you at the other side of the counter

you lift your hand up so the side of your mouth is covered and yoongi reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist, grinning excitedly as you whisper something into his ear

…

yoongi’s jaw drops

holy shit

no wonder he hasn’t seen you act like this before!

this isn’t elated y/n or disappointed y/n or excited y/n

a new player has entered the ring

this is HORNY Y/N

“you… little… horndog!” yoongi cackles with glee as he claps his hands together wildly, “you, y/n y/l/n- you had a wet dream?!”

you feel your anxiety spike at how loud yoongi’s being and you make a gesture to try to get him to use his inside voice but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to you at all right now

“wow...” yoongi laughs lightly, crossing his arms as he looks up towards the ceiling, “i mean, welcome to puberty, i guess. a bit of a late start if you ask me, but either way i’m actually pretty proud of you for basically creaming your-”

“shh!” you quickly shove a spoon into yoongi’s mouth and he spits it out immediately

it falls onto the counter with a clang

to be honest, you actually don’t remember too much of the dream

flashes of namjoon’s head in between your legs and his strong arms wrapped around your thighs pinning you down pop into your mind every now and again to taunt you

but other than that

nothing!

it’s just that joon’s been working out a lot lately (jin’s trying to get in better shape because of one photo where the shadow made it look like he had a double chin and it traumatised him) so it makes sense that he’s turning into an actual beefcake now

the other day you accidentally busted a bag of icing in your hands after squeezing it too hard because you were watching namjoon doing bicep curls with the milk jugs

his arms just….,,.

you want to bite into them

or dig your nails into them

or just look at them!

you would be perfectly content with just staring at them 24/7!

now, the issue here is that you...

you don’t really know…

you don’t know how to initiate things with namjoon

it’s awkward!

…on your end, that is

since getting together, you and namjoon have had plenty of heated make-out (and slight groping) sessions but you always end up chickening out as soon as you feel things starting to escalate

you just get nervous that you’re going to do something wrong and it’ll pop the love-bubble you guys are in right now!!

and you really don’t want to pop anything!!

and namjoon, being the sweet, kind, caring, considerate, wonderful, absolutely flawless boy he is, never has an issue with it because his number one priority is making sure that you’re comfortable

he’s totally okay with moving at your pace!

but after the last couple of times where you’ve left him high and dry, you notice that he either a) puts a pillow over his lap almost immediately and tries to change the subject or b) waddles off to the bathroom for a ‘pee break’

you feel awful knowing that you’re blue-balling him but you don’t want to take things further if there’s even a slight possibility of you ruining things

so... yeah!

your only stress reliever has been baking which isn’t new

you’ve stress baked before but this is a nEW type of stress baking

this is the most chaotic level of stress baking there is because everything’s just a disorganised MESS

“you know what, it actually makes sense now,” yoongi reaches up to stroke his chin in thought before nodding to himself, “you’ve been acting so weird lately that i thought i did something wrong- and it turns out you’ve just been excruciatingly horny this entire time-”

“lower your voice!” you hiss, hurrying over to the door to make sure namjoon’s not listening in to what should be a private conversation if yoongi wasn’t so damn loud

he may be in the living room but who knows how far your voices can travel??

you peek out to look at poor namjoon who looks like he’s just about ready to pass ouT from exhaustion

he lets out an almost animalistic growl as he pushes himself up off the ground one last time and you feel a tingle in your southern region

if you were a cartoon character there would be gigantic hearts pumping out of your eyes, your tongue would roll out of your mouth like a red carpet, and a horn would be blasting aooga in the background

“okay, well - you can’t not tell me about what happened in it.” you turn back around to face yoongi, “give me all the details!!!!” he wiggles his brows as he leans down and folds him arms atop the counter, “and get real nasty with it because i haven’t had sex in months-”

“no way!” you scoff before crossing one arm over the other to make an ‘x’ sign at yoongi, “no! i don’t remember anything.”

“you’re lying to me.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops and he scowls at you, “you totally are!”

“am not! it’s true.” you chirp, nodding satisfactorily when yoongi doesn’t respond

good

the topic has been dropped and now you can focus your attention back on this weird, runny batter you’re still beating the life out of

“...what about if i guess?”

you pause

oh no

you don’t like that idea at all

you don’t get a chance to shake your head nO before yoongi starts listing out all your possible wet-dream scenarios

“he was finger-fucking you.”

“you were sucking him off?”

“he was eating you out!”

“69? you on top? or was it him on top? …no, it was probably you on to-”

“a classy combination of tongue and fingers? ooh, quick question- how quickly did dreamjoon find your g-spo-”

“missionary! can’t go wrong with good ol’ fashioned missio-”

“doggystyle? cowgirl! reverse cowgirl? or was he kind of, like, spooning you from behi-”

“ooh! plot twist! you gave him the strap-”

“butt-stuff! butt-stuff?? butt-stuff but the plug had a tail on- oh-ho, it was butt-stuff, wasn’t it-”

“something with a belt? something with cuffs? something with leather?”

“roleplaying! he was a sexy gardener with a big ol’ hose and you were just an innocent wittle twree-”

“was he rawdogging you?”

your eyes immediately widen and you look up at yoongi for the first time since he started rambling, “wha- WHAT is that?!”

rawdogging??

that sounds like it’d give you carpet burn for some reason

“sex without a condom.” yoongi states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the entire world, “duh.”

god

boys are so

boyish!!!!

“why not just say that instead??” you ask incredulously, tilting your head

yoongi snorts, “well, because rawdogging sounds way hotter-”

your face screws up immediately, “does it really, though…?”

yoongi pauses before his face lights up, “aha! so dreamjoon WAS rawdogging y-”

“crude!” your entire face is bright red at this point and you hurry over to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen blueberries out of the freezer (for what purposes? you have no idea.)

“you think i’m being crude?” yoongi scoffs, “i think you’re being a prude. okay, lemme see what else i can think of-”

“yoongi, literally no one asked you to list-”

“were you grinding on his-” yoongi pauses again, “you know, like dry humping?” he hums before pushing himself up off the counter and placing both his palms flat on the surface of it, “i mean, i guess i can see why that’d be hot, you know, with clothes being restrictive and all- oh! were you getting off on his thigh? because a couple of girls have done that to me before and it was actually pretty hot AND since namjoon’s dna consists of 80% plant he basically has tree trunk thighs-”

“okay, i don’t remember too much-” you grab yoongi by the arm to yank him back in so you can whisper in his ear again

yoongi listens attentively

…

you clear your throat before shoving yoongi away to make it seem less suspicious if namjoon just so happens to come into the kitchen at this very moment

“surprisingly simple, but it does the trick, that’s for sure…” yoongi hums as he strokes his chin thoughtfully, “damn. i hyped it up way too much. that’s actually a pretty boring dream compared to what i’ve dreamt about, now that i think about it-”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you open up the bag of blueberries

…what did you pull these out for again?

“well, what’s the problem?” yoongi frowns, “you guys are already dating. just go up to him and ask him if he wants to do stuff. if a girl told me that she creamed her panties because of me, i’d be ecstatic!”

“stop saying it like that-”

you feel a little weird talking about this with yoongi

he’s always been comfortable telling you about his sex life but you prefer to keep your intimate details private

it’s not that you don’t trust him or anything, because obviously you do, but… you’d feel more comfortable if you talked about this with a girl-friend, you know?

guys just don’t understand!

“i don’t know how to…” you shift in your spot, “ask.”

yoongi scoffs in response and crosses his arms, “y/n- namjoon is a man. men are simple. do you remember the other week when you invited me over for a breakfast and you dropped the spatula on the floor?”

you nod before tilting your head curiously, “…why?”

yoongi clears his throat

now he’S the one who looks slightly uncomfortable

“well...” he clears his throat, “namjoon was wearing sweats and i swear i wasn’t purposely looking- my eyes just happened to be looking downwards in that general direction naturally-”

“yoongi-”

“the man’s dick twitched in his sweats when you bent over, alright?” yoongi blurts out and your eyes immediately widen, “my point is: men are simple- painfully simple creatures. so... just ask him!”

you frown

just ask him??

was he even listening to you??

you just told yoongi you didn’t know how to ask namjoon and his advice was for you to ask namjoon

that’s like taking someone who doesn’t know how to swim and immediately tossing them into the OCEAN with a punctured life-ring

“god,” you roll your eyes before flicking your wrist at him, “just forget i told you!”

“hey!” yoongi gawks and shakes his head, “i can’t forget! now my only purpose in life is to get you some head-”

“jesus christ-!”

you jump ten feet into the air like a cat that’s just been sprayed by water when the kitchen door suddenly swings open and a sweaty namjoon stumbles in

“i think there’s sweat dripping into my contacts-”

“namjoon!” yoongi spins around in his stool and props his elbows up on the counter, “what a coincidence! we were just talking about you, my man…”

yoongi looks over at you with a cheeky grin and you shake your head stiffly before turning to get the jug of water from the fridge for namjoon

“oh yeah?” namjoon huffs as he places his hands on your hips from behind, sliding past you to grab a clean glass from the dish rack, “what about?”

“just about how…” yoongi looks back at you quickly and you shoot him a glare

he wouldn’t…

would he??

(he absolutely would.)

any word of your conversation and you’ll skin him alive

“-hard you’ve been working out lately!” yoongi chirps, “i mean, it looks like you were trapped in a washing machine-”

“oh, god. trust me, it’s so not worth it, i’m in so much pain-” namjoon winces and shakes his head, “you’re welcome to go and take my place if you want-”

“absolutely not-” yoongi snorts, “first of all, it’s the holidays, and everyone knows you don’t work out during december. also, you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to do a push-up. i’m perfectly happy with my somewhat doughy centre.” he pats his tummy with a happy hum and you can’t help but giggle

silly boy

namjoon laughs lightly before pausing to chug down some water, “i wish i could say the same. unfortunately, jin’s not giving me a choice-”

“sweaty!” you whine when namjoon suddenly wraps an arm around you from behind before kissing your cheek and he frowns playfully when you swat at his forearm, “and sticky…”

“relax, i’m about to hit the shower-” he nudges his nose against your cheek before pulling away, “and then i won’t be sticky and i’ll smell like peaches-”

“i should probably go, too.” yoongi gets up from his seat, “i just ordered my dinner and it’s going to arrive at my apartment in like half an hour.”

“wait!” you hold a finger out before turning to open up the cupboards for a tupperware box, “take some pie with you…”

»»————-　☁️　————-««

“still coming friday?” you ask as you watch yoongi put his shoes on

you asked yoongi if he would be interested in helping you decorate the apartment on friday (aka you told him he didn’t have a choice and that he had to come and help you whether he wanted to or not)

“mhm.” he glances up at you, “still ordering pizza?”

“mhm.”

you reach down to pat the top of yoongi’s head gently just because you want to and pauses in the middle of tying his laces to reach over and jab your stomach

“i know the main focus is decorating the place for christmas but i think you guys are going to love the nature documentary i picked for us to watch while-” namjoon chimes in but shuts up quickly when you and yoongi exchange knowing glances, “what?”

yoongi looks back up at you with a raised brow, “…does he really have to join us?”

“no choice.” you shrug casually and namjoon’s jaw drops

wha-

“oh, hold on-” yoongi gets up off the ground before patting his pockets down with a frown, “i think i left my keys in the kitchen… can you go and get them for me?”

you nod before turning to hurry to the kitchen

you don’t want him to get another parking ticket

it’s only after you disappear into the kitchen that yoongi swiftly pulls his keys out of his back pocket with a jingle

namjoon opens his mouth to say something but yoongi quickly holds his hand out to shut him up

“야 남준아- 어제 니 여친이 니 꿈 꿨데~ (y/n had a sex dream about you).” he chirps and gives namjoon two firm pats on his surprisingly firm chest before his eyes widen in surprise, “어우 딴딴해 운동 열심히 했나보네! (woah, you really have been working out! good man.)”

“yeah, i-” namjoon chokes, “wait, wha-”

“y/n, i found my keys! my bad!” yoongi calls out and gives you a thumbs up when you come out of the kitchen, “see you losers on friday!”

he gives namjoon a grin and a light punch to the arm before swiftly turning on his heel

namjoon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as yoongi shuts the front door behind him and he blinks rapidly before turning to look at you

you tilt your head at him curiously and namjoon swallows before offering you a sheepish smile

oh, boy.

»»————-　☁️　————-««

namjoon hasn’t been able to think straight since it was revealed to him that you had a sex dream about him.

it’s been an entire week that he’s learned this new piece of information and it’s been weighing verY heavily on his mind!!

when he wakes up his first thought is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

when seokjin’s rambling about god knows what the only thing in his mind is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

the last thing he thinks about before he goes to bed is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

and then his imagination conjures up what could’ve happened in your sex dream which is very dangerous because he has an overly-active imagination

it sucks that he doesn’t even know the details of the dream because stinky yoongi ziPPed off before he got a chance to squeeze the truth out of him!!!

and he hasn’t mustered up the courage to ask you about it because… how is he even supposed to ask you about it in a casual, non-confrontational way?!

he doesn’t want to embarrass you or anything like that!!

the only reason why he’s only slightly nervous about the whole situation because he doesn’t think he… oozes sex appeal?

so it was more than surprising to find out that you had a naughty dream about him

he’s like 90% leg and 10% dimple for crying out loud

and it’s not like he hasn’t done anything before, because he has, but it’s just different because it’s… you.

you’re his girlfriend and if he flubs this up the first time around then it’d be even more embarrassing than if you were just some random girl!

“말��줘여어 (you have to tell me).” namjoon whips around from where he’s standing by the tree, cradling the box of baubles to his chest, “you have to!”

“싫어 (nah).” yoongi shakes his head, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth only for it to bounce off his cheek and onto the couch

he purses his lips before kicking it under the coffee table

it’s fine

the dust bunnies will get rid of it

“말해줘여어! (you have to tell me!)”

“야 안돼 (no way).”

namjoon clenches his jaw and sets the box down onto the floor promptly before balling his hands into fists and setting them on his hips, puffing his chest out

...

“아 왜여어어어~ (why not??)” he whines, deflating and resisting the urge to stamp his foot and throw an actual tantrum

“아니 비밀이라고 했으니까 그렇지! (it’s not my thing to tell! and i can’t betray y/n like that-)” yoongi shrugs as he keeps his eyes glued on the screen, “by the way, you didn’t even choose a cool nature documentary. what are we even watching?? the guy’s been talking about seaweed for the past ten minutes-”

“what do you mean it’s not your thing to tell??” namjoon scoffs, not even paying attention to the fact that yoongi just insulted his favourite nature documentary about plants in the ocean, “형이 먼저 말 꺼냈잖아! (you were the one who told me that she dreamt about me in the first place-!)” he snaps

“잠깐만 (wait, wait-)” yoongi sits up quickly, a couple kernels of popcorn rolling off his chest and falling onto his lap, “일주일이 지났는데 아무것도 안 했단 말이야?? (are you telling me that you… it’s been a whole week and you haven’t done anything about it??)”

namjoon shrinks down before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “노 코멘트 (…no comment.)”

“킄 정말로? (really? wow.)” yoongi snorts before shaking his head and leaning back against the couch, “both of you- i mean, both of you deserve each other, seriously-”

namjoon resists the urge to flop down on the couch dramatically, “아니 뭐라고 말하는 거예요 (well, i’m sorry, what am i even supposed to say-)”

“아우 그러지좀마 걍- (you don’t have to say anything, all you have to do is-)”

“yoongi!” namjoon and yoongi look over when you stick your head out around the kitchen door, “cream cheese or vanilla?”

“vanilla, duh.” yoongi raises a brow

you should know by this point that he prefers vanilla frosting over cream cheese!

halfway through the documentary you decided that you were going to make a carrot cake

(and yes, part of the reason why you made that decision was because you were bored of the documentary and wanted to do literally anything else, but you’ll never admit that to namjoon in case it breaks his heart)

namjoon stays quiet until after you disappear into the kitchen again and then he turns to face yoongi with both of his hands clasped together, “말해줘요오! (you have to tell me, c’mon!)”

“말해주면 제발 다른 거 보면 안 될까? (if i tell you, can we watch something else?)”

namjoon scowls

“아 됐어요 도와줄 거라도 있는지 확인 해볼게요- (fine, forget it. i’m gonna go see if y/n needs any help.)” he steps over the boxes of decorations on the ground before turning to look back at yoongi, “부엌에서 필요한 거 있어요? (you need anything?)”

“아니 (nah.)” yoongi responds before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, “oh! actually, see if y/n would be willing to make little carrot cupcakes instead of a whole carrot cake. holding a tiny little cupcake in my hand makes me feel like a giant.”

»»————-　☁️　————-««

“knock, knock…” namjoon knocks on the kitchen door quietly before pushing it open, “everything going okay in here?”

he smiles when you look up from the bowl and beam at him, “hi!”

“hi-” he comes in and shuts the door behind him, “you need any help?”

“help? from you?” you giggle lightly and shake your head, “i’m good.”

ever since he accidentally poured salt into your batter that one time he hasn’t been allowed to help you

:-//

“yoongi changed his mind, by the way.” namjoon gestures back to the direction of the living room, “king min would like cupcakes now.”

your shoulders immediately droop and you gesture to the already greased cake-pans sitting on the side

what a waste!

“hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” namjoon raises both his hands in defence before shrugging, “the man wants what he wants.”

you resist the urge to go out there just to throw the cake pans at yoongi

you’re definitely going to force him to wash everything for you later

“also... you’re just doing this to get out of watching the nature doc, aren’t you?” namjoon wraps both his arms around you from behind and leans down to prop his chin up on your shoulder

you could’ve helped with the decorating, but somehow everything looks better when namjoon does it

he hung a big red bow on your front door and it looks great!

you pause in the middle of shredding carrots before letting out a nervous chuckle, “whaaat? no...”

“it’s about the types of plants in the ocean!” namjoon points out, “is that not cool?? plants are cool.”

you shake your head no almost immediately

not cool

two and a half hours of someone talking about grass that lives in salty water?

not cool at aLL

“how’s the decorating going?” you ask, giggling lightly when namjoon nudges his nose under your jaw before planting a kiss against your neck

“it’s going fine… yoongi isn’t helping, obviously. i handed him one bauble to hang and he hooked it on the collar of his hoodie and told me he’d do it later.”

“mm.”

a brief moment passes where the only sound that can be heard is the carrot you’re shredding against the grater

namjoon purses his lips as he thinks about what yoongi just said to him

...

fuck it

“hey, can i ask you something?” namjoon sighs, smiling in delight when you suddenly turn your head to press a sweet little kiss into his cheek

“mhm!” you turn back, continuing to grate away

“it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?” namjoon asks cockily, biting back a grin when he feels you freeze in his arms

it’s at this moment that the fact that you had a wet dream about him has finally sunk into the depths of his brain and now he’s actually feeling... really good about it

you had a sex dream about him

what’s not to love?

he can almost hear the alarms wailing in your head

and now that he’s got the ball rolling- he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be!

as a matter of fact... this could be fun.

“w-” you clear your throat quietly and the half-shredded carrot drops into the metal bowl with a muted plunk, “i- what dream? i didn’t have a dream about you.”

he knows you’re trying to play it cool but he can see how tightly you’re gripping the grater and he can feel your ears getting hotter against his cheek

“i never said the dream was about me.”

oh, shit

you messed up

“so...?” namjoon moves your hair to the other side before leaning in to plant a warm kiss under your jaw, “this dream that you had… about me. tell me what happened in it.”

you swallow thickly, the gears working overtime in your brain as you try to come up with some kind of an excuse to get yourself out of this situation

you know that now isn’t the most appropriate moment to be thinking about this but you’re 100% going to slaughter yoongi the moment you get a chance to

the secret ingredient to make these cupcakes taste good will not be love

it will be BLEACH

you can’t believe he ratted you out like that!!

how embarrassing!!

“you were-” you cough, “um, you were… you… we…”

oh boy

this is already a train wreck

this is exactly why you didn’t want to tell namjoon about it!

because you know yourself and you knEW you were going to get all flustered and twitchy bringing it up

“well, i was-” you pause, “i was sitting on- sitting on the counter-”

“this one right here?” namjoon’s hand leaves your waist to pat the surface of the counter lightly and you nod gingerly, staring down at his obscenely pretty fingers, “what else?”

“that was it.” you blurt out, “the end!”

namjoon steps back a little and spins you around quickly before pressing you up against the counter, “what else, y/n?”

he traps you in between his arms and you fight the urge to explode into a million bits

oh god

okay

just tell him!

just SAY it

it’s time to get it over with!!

“you were…” your eyes flicker downwards and your nose scrunches slightly

you really don’t want to say it but you don’t think you can back out at this point because you’ve already said too much

“…eating me out.” you force out before averting your gaze and looking off to the side

you really wish there was a better way to say that because the phrase eating me out just sounds so… in your face, you know?

namjoon swallows thickly

so you had a dream about him eating you out?

“y/n, there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about, i promise-” namjoon laughs lightly when he notices your entire face starting to go red

you let out a particularly pathetic whine before leaning your forehead against his chest and gently shoving at his (firm) abdomen

“what’s the problem?” he asks, rubbing comforting circles into your back, “i think about you, you know.”

“you’re just saying that…” you mumble, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “you’re lying...”

“no, i’m serious!” namjoon pulls away to look at you, “i… i think about you. i think about things.”

you blink twice

he thinks about you

he thinks about things

he thinks about you?

he thinks about things??

…what kind of things does he think about?

“y-you do?”

“of course i do.”

“oh.”

a moment of silence ticks by

“i think about a lot of things, y/n.”

“like what?” you look up at him, the corner of namjoon’s pretty mouth curling upwards

“you really wanna know?”

“yes.” you respond a little too quickly before clearing your throat quietly, “…please.”

“hm.” he smiles, “as polite as always-”

you gasp in surprise when namjoon suddenly lifts you up and plops you down on the countertop in one swift movement and your stomach flutters at how effortlessly he just did that

wowie

he places both hands flat on the surface on either side of you before looking up at you with his head tilted slightly

you keep your hands folded in your lap, nervously picking at the worn edges of the sweatshirt you’re wearing (it’s namjoon’s coffee-coloured sweatshirt that you ‘borrowed’ from him)

“mostly about fucking you into the headboard.” namjoon confesses, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth when he notices the way your eyes flicker

you definitely seemed to like that idea

“i think about your fingers pulling at my hair when i have my face in between your legs...” he hums, trailing a finger up from your kneecap to your thigh, “i think about how pretty you’d look bent over the counter for me. i think about the sounds you’d make, how soft your moans and gasps would be… i especially like thinking about you moaning my name. i think about you riding me wearing nothing but that cute little apron of yours - you know, the one with the little honeybees on them?”

“apron’s in the.. in the washing machine.” your breathing’s become a bit more shallow and you haven’t blinked in nearly a minute so it’s safe to say that he has your attention

“you know… i think you know what you do to me when you walk around wearing nothing but one of my sweatshirts and a pair of panties, or when you come out of the shower wrapped in a little towel because you ‘forgot’ your clothes in the bedroom…” namjoon murmurs lowly, “and don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me whenever you suck frosting off your fingers.”

“frosting?” you whisper, namjoon nodding as his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly

your tongue pokes out to swipe over your bottom lip for a split second

“that’s right.” the metal bowl scrapes against the counter as namjoon drags it over and you jump in surprise at the feeling of the chilled metal bumping up against your bare thigh

“you think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” namjoon chuckles lowly, lifting the spatula up before swiping some frosting off of it with the side of his thumb, “you think i don’t know what you’re up to?”

“i don’t…” you trail off, going cross-eyed when namjoon’s hand comes closer only for his pointer finger to tap at your bottom lip

“you do. open.”

you’re just a little thrown off because namjoon’s never... you’ve never seen him like this before

he’s never spoken to you like this before

he’s never looked at you like this before

you’re certainly not complaining, of course

“you taunt me because you like to-” you can’t seem to break away from namjoon’s gaze, the side of his pointer finger hooking underneath your chin as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, “i know you do it on purpose.”

almost immediately, the taste of sweet vanilla frosting washes over your palette

“you want me to think about you, don’t you?” namjoon swallows a groan when you start sucking, your cheeks hollowing slightly as your tongue swirls around his thumb to make sure no frosting gets left behind, “you like the thought of that? like leaving me high and dry because it forces me to use my own imagination?”

(admittedly, yes. a little part of you likes the thought of you completely consuming every corner of namjoon’s mind... just a little part, though.)

you nod slowly in response with glazed over eyes and namjoon clenches his jaw

fuck

he flattens his thumb down on your tongue to get you to open your mouth a little more for him and hums contently when you do so obediently

a thin line of spit stretches from your tongue to namjoon’s slick thumb as he pulls his hand away and you don’t even get a chance to register whatever that moment was before he’s leaning forward to slant his mouth over yours

namjoon kisses you purposefully, pulling you closer to him as you fist at his shirt tightly

he savours the faint sweetness of the frosting left behind on your tongue and can’t help but smile when he hears you whimper

“can i tell you something?” namjoon pulls away only to start sponging kisses to your neck and you tilt your head to the side for him

“uh-huh, y-yeah-” you nod quickly, slinging an arm around his neck to keep him close while the other hand grips at his shoulder

your eyes roll to the back of your head for a split second and you can’t help but quietly mouth an ‘oh my god’ to yourself because you never knew it could feel this good to have your neck kissed

“i think it’s hot as fuck that you had a wet dream about me,” namjoon groans lowly and you immediately feel a zing! of electricity travel straight down south from the sound of him speaking to you in such a deep, gravelly voice, “and you definitely don’t have to be shy about asking me to touch you… because i’m very willing to do so.”

“i want you to- w-want you to touch me-” you stutter, feeling your cheeks warm from hearing those words come out of your mouth, “want it so bad-”

your eyes pop open when namjoon suddenly pulls away and you frown, instantly missing the feeling of him being pressed up so tightly against you

“lift your hips-” namjoon pushes the bowl of frosting to the side before tapping two fingers on your upper thigh, “-up off the counter.”

your brows knit together in confusion

why would you-

your eyes widen in realisation when it dawns on you what exactly is happening here

“w-what-” you glance at the (for the most part, closed) kitchen door frantically before looking down at joon, “but yoongi’s in the-” you turn back and jump in surprise when you see that namjoon’s face is right in front of yours

you’re practically nose to nose with him

“i know.” namjoon leans in to give you a quick peck before pulling away with a particularly smug grin, “so you’re just going to have to stay quiet for me then, aren’t you?”

you WHAT

“why don’t we get these off, hm?” namjoon hooks a finger into the waistband of your shorts and gives it a gentle tug

you look at the door once again and then back at namjoon, who offers you an innocent little smile as if he didn’t just suggest going down on you on the kitchen counter with your friend in the room next door

okay

think about this!

think about this with your logical brain and not your bonk horny brain

would you rather see your very hot boyfriend’s face in between your legs or would you rather send him away so you can continue making a cake for your very picky friend?

…

you plant both palms on the counter before raising your hips a little, namjoon grinning in victory before yanking your shorts down in one go

if you would’ve known this was going to happen today you definitely would’ve worn a sexier pair of panties

white cotton is boring!!!

also you know this is the wrong time to be thinking this but you’re wondering if it would be possible to rope yoongi into a shopping spree at victoria’s secret next week because you’re going to need better looking panties if namjoon’s going to keep springing these spontaneous sessions on you

“cute.” namjoon hums, poking at the little blue bow that sits at the centre of the waistband

your breathing stills as he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of you and you feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest at the sight alone

“soaked right through…” namjoon observes quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh, “i’ve barely touched you, baby.”

you jolt in surprise when he runs his thumb slowly up your slit through the thinned fabric of your panties, though he stops right as he’s about to reach your clit

so close yet so, so painfully far

you nudge him with your foot, “you’re teasing.” you swallow thickly, namjoon offering you a boyish grin as he tilts his head, pushing his bottom lip out in a mocking pout

“aw… am i?” he coos, and you shiver when he leans in to press a kiss over your clothed clit, “i’m sorry, darling… that must be so hard for you…”

“and you’re being mean.” you murmur, namjoon chuckling to himself as he pulls your panties down your legs

“am not.”

“are too.”

“am not.” namjoon perks a brow, pushing your thighs apart gently, “take it back.”

“no wa-!” your back immediately straightens as if a jolt of electricity just shot straight up your spine at the first feeling of namjoon licking one long stripe up your centre, and you fight back the urge to snap your legs shut

that’s.,., new!

very new

very new feeling

you’re certainly not against it and it’s not a bad feeling

it’s just…

new

“good?” your breath wavers when namjoon hums against you, your eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue slowly pressing in deep, “hm?”

namjoon slips his tongue in between your folds before sliding it flat and straight up to your swollen clit, grinning to himself when you finally give in to pleasure and lie back on the counter

you whimper, rolling your hips down towards his mouth as he drags his tongue over your slit in repetitive strokes before flicking his tongue over the top of your clit

it’s too much and not enough at the same time, your legs instinctively starting to squeeze shut around him

“nuh-uh, baby…” you find that you can barely move, namjoon’s fingers digging into your thigh as a warning as he keeps your legs open, “keep them spread for me.”

namjoon watches your reaction intensely, finding pleasure in the way that your chest rises and falls quickly and in the way you twitch every now and again

from here, he can see the way your brows furrow and the way you bite and tug at your bottom lip in a poor effort to keep yourself quiet

“you can use your words like a good girl, can’t you?” namjoon teases, two fingers rolling tight little circles into your clit as he watches you, barely blinking, “tell me how good it feels…”

“good- ungh, feels good-” you whimper, hips bucking up against his fingers desperately

namjoon looks down to see you practically dripping onto the counter

jesus

he would’ve done this a lot sooner had he known you’d be acting like this from his touch

“fuck me,” namjoon groans suddenly, and all of a sudden it seems like everything’s moving ten times faster than before, “you look so fucking hot right now-”, he wraps his strong arms underneath both your thighs before yanking you closer to him, practically burying his entire face in between your legs

your right leg gets hitched up over his shoulder and you quickly sit back up, digging your fingers into the soft strands of namjoon’s hair as his tongue laves back and forth against your folds

your back arches and you tilt your head up towards the ceiling, namjoon instinctively pushing his clothed crotch against the bottom part of the counter for some kind of relief

he’s so painfully hard from just hearing you hold back moans and watching you squirm and twitch

you remind yourself to loosen your grip on namjoon’s hair because you’re worried that you might accidentally rip some strands out and leave him with a bald patch, but namjoon obviously doesn’t seem to mind as he doubles his efforts and starts to lick and and suck with tremendous fervour

“fuck, you taste good-” he curses, his right hand sliding underneath your sweatshirt to cup your bare breast before he pinches and rolls your nipple in between his fingers

he drags his tongue down to circle around your tight hole and you jerk immediately, “oh my god-” you pant, overwhelmed by all the different feelings your body is experiencing at this moment, “that feels so-”

your bum is teetering on the edge of the counter at this point because namjoon’s basically pulled you off of it and you reach down to grip at the edges so you don’t fall off

“gonna cum?” namjoon murmurs, eyes locking on your face almost immediately as he feels you starting to squirm underneath him

he really wants to watch you cum

“j-joonie, god, don’t stop-” the arm wrapped around your waist tightens around you and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues his torturous onslaught of pleasure, “i-i- nngh- namjoon-!”

“i’ve got you, baby… you can cum…” namjoon feels himself twitch in his sweats upon hearing you moan his name like that

the thought of gagging you with your own panties to mute your moans briefly flits through his mind but... he wants to hear you moaning his name over and over and over again

he wants to make you scream for him

when it happens, you practically bite your bottom lip off trying not to cry out in ecstasy

namjoon has to hold your trembling thighs open to keep them from snapping his head right off

your hips buck lazily as you quiver around namjoon’s hot tongue, your body glistening in a sheen layer of sweat as you bask in the slow, rolling waves of ecstasy

you lie back down against the counter, chest heaving beneath your sweater as you stare dazedly up at the ceiling

oh, wow

you watch as the ceiling fan whirrs around and around and around

you feel like you’re not physically here right now

like your soul left your body and you’re just floating in the air like a bunch of particles

“-!” you twitch when namjoon carefully wipes you off with your panties before setting them onto the counter next to you

you slowly prop yourself up onto your elbows so you can look at him, feeling your cheeks flush when you see that he’s looking right at you

you’re not sure why you’ve gone all shy again as if his tongue wasn’t licking you out ten seconds ago

“hi, pretty girl...” he smiles, his dimple popping up in his right cheek, “welcome back.” he jokes, rising to his feet while keeping your right leg propped up onto his shoulder

he turns to give your ankle a kiss before gently bringing your leg down and helping you sit up

“that was really something...” you wrap your arms loosely around his neck as he grasps your hips before leaning down to give you a sweet little kiss

“oh yeah? did i live up to dreamjoon?” namjoon teases, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before pinching the apple of your cheek

“you did a much better job than dreamjoon.” you hum, and it’s only then that you’re aware of the very prominent bulge pressing into your centre, “but i... i wanna make you feel good, too…” you murmur, namjoon biting back a groan when you nudge your bare centre against him, a darkened splotch now staining the front of his sweatpants “and…” you lean upwards to whisper something into namjoon’s ear

...

holy shit

yes please

“yeah, shit, we can definitely do that-” namjoon hates to admit to how horny he is but he can’t help it when you go around saying stuff like that to him, “we-” he pauses suddenly, eyes going wide in panic, “oh, shit!”

“wh- what??” you look around the kitchen frantically before grabbing the closest thing to you as a form of defence (a silicone whisk)

“friggin’ yoongi-!” namjoon hisses in pain as he adjusts himself in his sweatpants, “i forgot about yoongi-”

okay

a little weird of him to be thinking about yoongi while he’s touching his-

“oh my god, yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hopping off the counter with wobbly legs

namjoon hands you your shorts and you quickly wiggle into them before pulling your sweatshirt down

you completely forgot that yoongi was in the room right next to you guys and that last moan of yours wasn’t exactly quiet

and you know that yoongi might not have a lot of knowledge when it comes to baking, but you’re sure that he knows enough to know that practically screaming namjoon’s name out loud isn’t a key step in achieving a fluffy cake batter

“we weren’t doing anything!”

the two of you stumble out into the living room and you file through your brain to come up with some kind of a logical excuse as to why you’re hot and sweaty and why namjoon’s hiding his lower half behind a kitchen towel and how in the world those two facts are related to his precious carrot cake cupcakes

you pause when you notice that yoongi’s nowhere to be found

the documentary’s still playing on the TV, the boxes of tinsel and baubles have been completely abandoned, and there’s nothing but a blue sticky note sitting on the couch

taking a nap in my car. text me when you guys are done being horny. also - you’re welcome.

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

966 notes · View notes

littlemoondarlingarts · 3 years

Text

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this.. him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

#my art #my writing #my oc #oc #theodore #fran #do i have to add all the tws here?#i don't think i do #anyway #take care

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

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One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 5

I’m considering changing the title to “One Night in Milwaukee (and a week in Florida)...” Enjoy and please reblog!

David x Patrick, 15k so far, A03

Chapter 5

David takes his time showering and doing his hair. He had thought that his run would center him, but all it took was one quick conversation with Patrick to knock him off balance.

He wishes he could put his own clothes back on, but since everything he brought with him is either in the wash or soaked in sweat, it’s not an option. Tying a towel around his waist, he goes into the bedroom and looks through Patrick’s suitcase. He allows himself a satisfying eye roll at the contents – the expected button-downs in shades of blue and green, jeans that probably won’t even fit David, and a few plain t-shirts and pairs of khaki shorts. David sighs and selects briefs, shorts, and an olive green t-shirt, a nondescript fashion choice that would make his mother weep. At least he’ll only have to wear them for an hour or so until his own clothes come out of the dryer.

He finds Patrick in the kitchen, hovering next to the island.

“I made eggs,” Patrick says, sliding a plate towards him.

“Thanks.” The eggs are just like David likes them, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and a piece of toast on the side. David recognizes the wheat bread he bought yesterday on his trip to the grocery store, somewhat bland but decent enough given the heaping of butter Patrick has spread on it.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, until the stress of it is too much for David to take.

“These are good.”

“It’s just scrambled, we didn’t have any cheese-”

“I can go to the store again, I didn’t know what you’d want-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Patrick says. “You didn’t have to go in the first place.”

“So I shouldn’t have?”

“No, no, it was great that you did…” Patrick catches David’s gaze, and they both sigh. “Why is this so awkward?” Patrick asks, taking their now empty plates and putting them in the sink.

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s been a long time, and things are different, and we both want everything to work out? But there’s no guarantee.” David stands up and waves his hands at the neat little kitchen and the safe tan sofa with its blue and white pillows and the “Home Sweet Home” sign on the wall with an outline of the state of Florida. He’s not sure he’s ever felt so out of place. “And this is not somewhere I ever expected to be, and I really don’t know what to do with it.”

Patrick nods, that sadness coming over his face again, and it makes David want to strangle someone. Not Patrick, never Patrick. But whoever was responsible for taking his good, decent button and making him sad.

<i>It was you, you asshole,</i> his unhelpful brain tells him, and isn’t that just the worst.

“Want to see the pool?” Patrick asks, and although David can see it perfectly well from here, he figures it can’t hurt. At least the screens will keep the alligators away.

They go outside, and the warmth of the sunshine surprises David. It’s gotten hotter even in the past hour since he was outside. It may be late November, but this part of the world hasn’t gotten the message. He wanders over to the pool and dips his toes in, then sits down by the steps in the shallow end and puts his feet in the water.

Patrick comes over and lowers himself to the concrete, David reaching out automatically to give him something to brace himself against. When Patrick starts to put his feet in David stops him with a hand to his ankle, carefully rolling up one leg of his jeans and then the other. David’s knuckles brush against the wiry hairs on Patrick’s leg as he neatly cuffs each pant leg. He wants to roll Patrick’s shirt sleeves up, too, reveal more of his lovely forearms, but it seems a step too far.

“Thanks.”

“Wet jeans are an abomination,” David comments.

“Kind of like you wearing my khaki shorts?” Patrick’s mouth quirks up in an attempt at a smile, and David’s heart lifts.

“Nice. Just a few minutes again you said I looked good.”

The hint of a smile disappears, as David’s words fail to land the way he meant. “I’m sorry, David, am I supposed to apologize for that? I don’t understand why it upset you. You do look good. Clearly you’ve been working out – aren’t you allowed to be pleased with the outcome?”

David squeezes his eyes closed and leans his head back. “Yes? But…” He’s not sure how to explain it. “It’s not about vanity, or, appearance. I know that probably sounds fake, coming from me,” he opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is gazing back as patient and open as ever, “but it’s true.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, clearly waiting for David to fill in the blanks. David had hoped a discussion about this particular part of his recent history could have been put off, possibly indefinitely, but it’s feeling like one of those moments when he’ll regret it if he brushes it off again. And maybe opening up will get Patrick to do the same.

“I was pretty depressed, after we broke up,” David says, running the tips of his fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread across the surface of the pool. “Couldn’t get out of bed, lost interest in everything… you know how it goes.” He’s not sure Patrick does, but he can’t help but try to make light of it, as awful as it was. It’s hard to really focus on those months, the drag of gray haze that wouldn’t clear. “Eventually I started seeing a therapist.”

“You mentioned that,” Patrick says, and David relaxes a fraction, because he had forgotten. Maybe this won’t be that hard, then. It hasn’t chased Patrick away yet.

“Right. Well, he recommended a bunch of stuff to try, including exercising regularly, and I resisted at first-”

“Obviously,” Patrick says.

David glares up at Patrick, who’s got his best trolling face on, deliciously familiar, and suddenly spilling his guts doesn’t seem so embarrassing anymore. “Anyway, once I started, it wasn’t so bad. Despite what I once told you about running… it worked for me.” That and laying off the alcohol.

“That’s great, David.”

“Well, Alexis says I just replaced one obsession with another.”

“Is that so bad, when it’s a healthy one?”

“You didn’t have to put up with me when I couldn’t go out for a run because of crappy weather, or inconveniently scheduled vendor meetings.”

There’s a hitch in the rhythm of their banter, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his. “I wish I did. I wish I was there.”

David feels his chest tighten, and he gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze. “Me too.”

They sit there with their feet in the water, like little kids in a backyard wading pool. There’s no breeze to speak of, but it’s not completely quiet. The sound of the highway a few streets away provides a bit of background noise, and a weird bird keeps making a strangled chirpy sound from a hedge on the side of the house.

David’s past encounters with Florida involved multi-million-dollar yachts, tanned supermodels, and free-flowing booze and drugs, not this strange version of suburbia. He imagines this house sitting empty for most of the year, waiting for its owners to come and visit. How many of the cookie cutter three-bedrooms in this neighborhood are empty right now? How many swimming pools are noticed only by the staff who come by weekly to clean them and make sure nothing has crawled into the filters and died?

“This water’s probably terrible for your skin,” David says, and Patrick looks at him in mild confusion. “Because of all the chemicals.”

Patrick shrugs. “I guess.”

“There are chemicals in here, right?”

“I don’t know, which would upset you more – the amount of chlorine dumped in here or the water being left in its natural state?”

David pulls his feet out of the water and stretches his legs to the side, the concrete warm on his heels. “I’m honestly not sure. But maybe we shouldn’t take any chances.”

Patrick stands up, leaning hard on David’s shoulder as he goes. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

David stays put, although now that he’s thinking about what might be in the pool water he wouldn’t mind rinsing off and applying some lotion. Or some hand sanitizer.

Patrick comes back out of the house with an armload of cushions and drops them onto the lounge chairs by the other end of the pool. “Come help me set these up.”

It only takes a moment to unfold the brightly patterned cushions and tie them into place (ah, there’s the Hawaiian floral, David thinks to himself). While David is arranging the loungers to his liking, facing the sun, Patrick comes back with two bottles of water. David twists off the top and rinses his feet while Patrick squawks at him.

“What? Was that not what this was for?” He tries not to smile.

“David. That water was to drink. There’s an outdoor shower over there.” Patrick points to the side of the house, then seems to regret his decision. “But don’t walk out there without shoes, okay?”

“What, will the baby alligators nip at my toes?”

Patrick grins at him. “No, but the fire ants will.”

“What the hell kind of place is this?”

“It’s just nature, David. As long as you wear shoes in the grass, you’ll be fine.”

“I feel like the state of Florida must have had some really good marketing professionals along the way. ��Alexis should get a job with them. They’ve managed to convince people that this pest-ridden swampland is worth something.”

“Arguably that is kind of what happened. You know Disney World was built on reclaimed swampland, right?”

“I did not know that.”

“Anyway, this neighborhood isn’t all there is. Give me another day to rest up, then I’ll show you around.”

Another day to rest isn’t really going to cut it, David thinks, watching Patrick wince as he eases himself down in the chair. He wonders again what Patrick had in mind when he made his escape to the sunshine state, which brings them right back to the conversation Patrick keeps avoiding.

“Patrick, how long, exactly, are you planning on staying here?” David asks, hoping that the direct approach might actually get him an answer.

Patrick stares up at the sky. “I don’t know.”

Patrick’s hair looks like polished copper in the sunlight, but David tries not to let it distract him. “How much time can you take off from work?” David presses. “Or are you working remotely doing… whatever you are doing now?”

Patrick takes a long gulp from his water bottle, then stares at his feet. “I’m unemployed. I lost my job about a month ago,” he says bitterly.

“Oh.” David is surprised, to say the least, especially by Patrick’s tone. He’s always seemed like he would be the ideal employee, eager to please and determinedly hardworking. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. Well, after you piss off a major customer, it’s hard to convince your employer to retain you.”

“It can’t have been that bad. I don’t think I can imagine you pissing off a customer.”

“It was, and I did.”

“What on earth did you do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

David sits up and squints at Patrick, no longer enjoying the sun on his face. He doesn’t even have sunglasses with him, a major miscalculation. “Yes, of course.”

Patrick leans back and closes his eyes. “I was working as an account manager at a software company. It was boring as hell. Sales, mostly, skating by with just enough technical knowledge about the product to capture the customer’s interest, and then serving as the liaison between the customer and the tech guys who actually knew what they were doing. But I kept screwing things up, and when the customers would want to know why the contract didn’t have the terms they wanted, or why I was taking so long to get back to them, I just didn’t have the patience to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Patrick opens his eyes and looks at David, and he looks almost as bewildered as David is. “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

David has the feeling there’s more to this story, but Patrick doesn’t elaborate, and all David really wants to do is give him a hug.

“You know, I have a feeling you don’t have an ounce of sunscreen on. You’re going to be bright red if we stay out here any longer.” David stands up and holds out a hand to Patrick, then slides his arm around his back to pull him up. When they’re both upright, he loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulls him close.

Patrick presses his face against David’s neck. “I’m a mess, David,” he says, his breath hot on David’s skin. “I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I think we’ve both been a little lost,” David says, holding Patrick tight. “But I know what will fix it.”

“Yeah?” There’s an almost pathetically hopeful note in Patrick’s voice.

“Absolutely.”

“What?”

“Running. Miles of it. Every day. It’s a miracle drug.” David is struggling to keep up his serious tone, and not quite succeeding.

Patrick chokes out a laugh, pressing a hand against his ribs. “I don’t think I’m quite up for running yet.”

“Well fine, then, you’ll just have to watch me do it. It’s almost as good.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Patrick says, and kisses David soundly. David hesitates for a second and then enthusiastically participates, and they are both breathing heavily by the time they pull apart.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?” David asks as they go inside, the shade welcome after the bright sunshine. He keeps a hand on Patrick as they go, not so much to make sure he doesn’t fall over but because he doesn’t want to lose this connection, now that he’s found it again.

Patrick takes hold of David’s waist, his eyes on David’s brighter than they’ve looked in days. “You. I thought I was dreaming, sometimes, remembering how much I liked you – loved you, too, but just fucking liked you. But I wasn’t.”

“I’m the best,” David says, half-joking, but there’s a familiar happiness bursting inside his chest.

“You are, David. You really are.”

#Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #David x Patrick #tw: brief discussion of depression

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

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These Are The Days Of Our Lives

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys,

Hope everyone is good,

This is the last part in this Robyn and Taron story. Thank you for all the love and comments and reads on it. The next story in the series will be coming in the next few weeks.

Suze xx

“The only difference between falling in love and being in love is that your heart already knows how you feel, but your mind is too stubborn to admit it.”

Taron’s shower was powerful even though it wasn’t a rainfall one like hers and Robyn stood with her head bent, letting the water pound on her shoulders, hoping it would beat out some of the tension she knew was buried deep beneath her skin. She had already washed her hair and her two minutes to let the conditioner sink in, had turned to ten and she finally opened her eyes, lifting her head so the water now ran over her hair. She definitely had an ulterior motive in asking Taron to use his en suite and his shower smelt just like him and once she had rinsed all of the conditioner from her hair, without a second thought, she reached for his shower gel, not missing the same lime one beside it like she had at home, squirting an overly generous amount of his onto her shower lily, soaping her whole body up, smiling at the lovely manly scent that filled the air around her, one that very quickly becoming a very calming scent to her.

Out of the shower, she dried her hair, the extra-long condition making it super soft and dressed in a pair of black ripped jeans and a blue tank top. She walked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen where Taron was standing at the sink, the water running. She walked right up behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach, giving his body a tight hug from behind.

Surprised at first, Taron found himself laughing a little. “What is this for?” He asked. He had heard the hairdryer stop and knew she would be in with him soon but hadn’t expected the hug.

“Just ‘cos.”

“Well that’s as good a reason as any. Have a nice shower?” He asked as she took her hands away and came to stand beside him.

“Yeah. It was badly needed.”

“Good to wash away the night.”

“Yep. What are you doing?”

“Just filling the kettle. I felt like some tea. I have your brunch surprise ready.” He turned to lean his right hip on the counter. She still looked exhausted but her eyes were bright and her face not as sad as it had been and slightly disappointed that she wasn’t wearing shorts, he was still so very proud of her opening up to him, to accept his invite to stay another night with him.

“It’s not cake is it?” She asked him as he walked around her to put the kettle back on its base, flicking the switch in.

“It’s not cake.”

“Or left-over pasta bake or pizza?”

“No Robyn!” He laughed turning to her, so glad to see a genuine smile on her face. “I have actually made something.”

“From the cake and pasta?”

“Robyn!” He moved closer to her, his hands going straight to her sides to tickle her, Robyn backing away from his hands, her laughter such a sweet sound, one he didn’t think he would be hearing so soon. “You can go hungry if you want!”

She was still chuckling as she made her escape around the island. “No I want this magic brunch.”

“Well take a seat then.” He said gesturing to the stool at his island.

Robyn walked around towards him, her hands held up in a truce and sat down on the stool. She watched him busy himself around his kitchen, placing a glass in front of her.

“So whose shower wins the best shower award?” Taron asked as he pulled two warmed plates from the oven.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I am partial to your shower.”

“Guess I win then.” Robyn said as he placed some cutlery beside the plates. “Do you want some help?”

“Nope. I got it under control and I guess you do.”

“So, I have the best couch and shower.”

“Maybe I win best shower gel?” Taron teased filling his cup with some hot water. He hadn’t missed the very familiar scent that lingered around her and it made his cheeks heat up with the realisation that she had willingly used his own shower gel.

“Maybe you do.” Robyn felt her cheeks heat up. “Hope you don’t mind. I forgot to bring mine in.”

“Not at all.” He moved to his fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. “You know you are welcome to use whatever you need here.” He filled her glass up with the orange liquid.

“Thank you.” She waited patiently for him to dish out whatever he had made for them to eat and though she wasn’t very hungry at all, she didn’t want to upset or insult him but telling him so. She knew he was already worried about her and had been so wonderfully patient and caring, she didn’t want to give him cause to worry more. Even after her wake up shower, she still felt a deep tiredness rooted inside her and she rolled her neck, trying to loosen up the tense muscles that still twinged after standing under the beating water for so long, her hands going to her neck to roughly rub her neck.

Taron was standing at his hob dishing out his brunch and when he turned around, he watched as Robyn sat with her head down, her hands under her hair, so obviously rubbing the back of her neck. In all the time he had known her, he had never seen her physically show an ache she had in her body and it saddened him that it was another pain she was feeling. Knowing how much she hated massages, apart from when someone played with her hair, as he concentrated on getting some food on the table, in the back of his mind, he tried to come up with a way to get his hands onto her neck to help rub out the clear and obvious spasm she was feeling.

Putting a smile on his face he walked over to where she was sitting. “And breakfast a la Taron!” He placed a plate of waffles and bowl with scrambled eggs and rashers in front of her and then added another plate with some toast cut in triangles. He came back with a bowl full of berries and then added the dish of Irish butter beside the toast and a tea bag to his cup, going to the fridge to grab some milk and his sugar bowl from the press. Once sure he had everything he needed, he took a seat beside her. “Hope this is ok.”

“You pulled this together quick.” Robyn was very surprised by the lovely looking meal he had fashioned together in about half an hour.

“Such little faith chicken.”

“Not at all. I have just seen inside your fridge. I don’t know if you should use that milk.”

“I might have popped out to the shop for a second. Restocked the basics.”

“You went to the shop?” Robyn asked twirling on her stool to face him.

“I couldn’t follow through with your challenge with only birthday cake and pasta and I was desperate for a decent cup of tea and I need milk for that. It’s only around the corner. Got a few things.”

“Berries and milk.”

“And bread.”

“And eggs.”

“Just some simple food I know you like. Don’t feel like you have to eat if you are not hungry. I know last night was tough so if it’s cake and pasta you want, it’s cake and pasta you can have.”

“Not at all. This is perfect.”

“Oh wait…” Taron got up from his seat and took a bottle of maple syrup from the countertop and placed it beside the waffles. “Most important.”

Robyn nibbled on a bit of everything, happy to mostly eat the fruit Taron had bought, but trying to make an effort of showing how much she appreciated the meal he had prepared especially when he went to the shop to buy most of the things but after a bit of picking, had to stop, her stomach starting to protest. While she barely touched the majority of what he had made, Taron must have been starving as he polished off a decent amount of food, refilling his cup for the third time.

“Thank you for this Taron.”

It didn’t go unmissed how little she ate, choosing the fruit over the more filling eggs and waffles but Taron let it slide, not wanting to push her or make her feel bad for not eating what he had prepared for them, so he nodded, picking up his cup. “You are welcome.”

“I will help you clean up but might just go and quickly give my mam a call to let her know I am going to stay here for another night.”

“Sure. I am going to finish my tea.”

Robyn left him at the island and headed back to his bedroom to ring her mam and while she was gone, Taron drained the last of his tea and did a quick tidy up of his kitchen, scraping the uneaten food into his bin. Still very troubled by her sleepless night, he was ready to crash on the couch and just be there for Robyn. Her phone call was very quick and he was wiping the island when she walked back into him.

“All ok with your mam?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t mind you are staying another night with me?”

“I am a big girl Taron. Don’t have to ask permission to stay over.”

“Even at a boy’s house?” He chuckled, wriggling his eyebrows at her.

“Maybe I didn’t tell her that part!” Robyn threw back his way, smiling as he laughed at her, watching as he threw the dishcloth on the sink, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “You cleaned up fast.”

“Not much to do.”

“I feel like I have been no help to you at all this morning.”

“Don’t be worrying. So couch and a movie?” He said coming to stand beside her, seeing her nod in agreement.

Taron led the way and sat right in the corner, throwing his feet up onto the coffee table, Robyn coming to sit on his left, the side she had always sat by since the 7/11, sitting comfortably beside him.

“What are you in the mood for?” He asked turning the TV on.

“I really don’t mind.”

“Something funny? Adventure movie?”

“Once it’s not a romantic lovey dovey film, I don’t mind.”

Clicking into his Netflix, Taron went straight to the action movies and flicked through a few, hoping Robyn would give more of an input but she was quiet as she sat beside him. He let a few trailers play and then clicked into one that seemed to have a decent plot, settling into his couch. She was right beside him, their shoulders touching and he slipped his left hand into her right, just letting her know he was there so glad to feel the light squeeze she gave him.

The movie was enough to keep her attention, a good distraction from her thoughts and she tried so hard to keep herself awake, to stop her eyes from closing but after struggling for so long, her hand went limp in Taron’s and her head leaned onto his shoulder as she fell asleep.

He wasn’t too sure if he was happy or not at how she quickly she fell asleep and his concerns were very much warranted when she jumped up awake so quickly after she had seemed to be deeply asleep and he wrapped his left arm around her as she sat hunched over a little her face in her hands.

It wasn’t another dream that woke her but that horrible sensation of falling and she knew she hadn’t been asleep very long at all, so grateful for Taron’s arm that was holding her close into his body. “Fucking hell.” She cursed to herself, running her hands through her hair.

“Robyn?”

“I am ok.” She let a long exhale leave her lips. “Remember in the 7/11 when you feel asleep and woke up so suddenly, it not only hurt you but startled you?”

“Yeah, it’s not a nice feeling.”

“Just happened. I am just not relaxed enough to try and sleep and my body knows it.”

“Come here to me.” Taron guided her into him as he sat back into the corner of the couch, her back resting against his chest. “Move down a little bit.” He instructed and was glad she listened to him as she moved her body so her back moulded into his chest, her head under his chin. “Pop your legs up darling.”

Following his instructions, Robyn got herself settled on the couch, her upper body leaning into Taron, her legs bent at her knees as they rested against the back of the couch. With the way he was sitting in the corner of the couch, she could neatly lean into him, her right side already feeling warm from his body, her left cushioned by the couch. She moved her arms over her stomach, linking her fingers together and felt Taron lazily drape his left arm over her.

It was the closest Taron could get to holding Robyn in the most protective way he could think of, while giving her the space he knew she needed but also letting her know he was right there for her. He knew he had snuggled so closely to her before, let her hold him so tightly in her arms but this was a new position for him and he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and just squeeze her but he held back. He wanted her to be comfortable, to feel safe and after getting another insight into her horrible past relationship, just to feel loved and protected. She still felt warm and it was actually starting to worry him that she was so warm, her skin always so cold to touch and he moved his left hand so he could place it over her enclosed hands to see if her hands were cold and he smiled as Robyn encased his hand in-between her two, finally feeling some sort of normal body temperature in her hands.

“Thanks Taron.” It was a cuddle of sorts and a pure feeling of security she felt from him and when she felt his hand rest on hers, she just grabbed it tight and brought it her to lips to give the back of his hand a kiss. Still blown away by his understanding of what she needed, Robyn held his hand in hers, feeling him settle behind her. She watched as he crossed his ankles, his feet still resting on the coffee table and she copied his movements, letting her legs lay flat on his couch in front of her.

“I am right here if you fall asleep.” He said to her, giving her hair a kiss, the scent of her shampoo, as always making his eyes close. “It is just me and you Robyn. It is only after twelve. We have all day to just sit here and sleep and talk if you want, or just cuddle together.”

“For the moment, I will take that last option.”

“It’s my first choice too. Do you want me to put on a different movie? Maybe something a little bit lighter? Maybe your DVD?”

“Definitely not my DVD.” She said. “Have you ever watched Sugar Rush?” She could feel him shake his head. “It’s a baking programme on Netflix. I think you’ll like it.”

Taron exited out of the movie and went into the search bar, typing in Robyn’s suggestion, a smile on his lips as the saw the photo associated with the show. “I think it will make me hungry.” He said as he pressed play.

“We have a full birthday cake in the fridge.”

“You don’t mind watching this again?” He asked as he dropped the remote by his right leg.

“Nope. I like this show.”

Robyn leaned a little bit more into Taron’s strong chest, keeping his left hand locked in her two, very gently rubbing her two thumbs over the back of his hand, her head turned a little towards the television.

“Why do you do that?” He asked her.

“Do what?”

“Rub my hand?” Robyn stopping gently massaging his hand at his words. “I didn’t say stop.”

She gave his hand the lightest of pinches before deeply rubbing her two thumbs into the back of his hand. “You like it.”

“I do.”

His words made her heart flutter a little. “Keith was a manly man.” Taron’s body moved under her as he laughed when she made her voice sound really low as she said the words ‘manly man’. “Men can’t appreciate or feel affection was his mantra”

“I am quite a touchy-feely person.” Taron admitted.

“Me too but it doesn’t make you any less of a man because you give an extra hug or kiss or enjoy this.” Robyn turned his hand over so she could stroke his palm.

“I really don’t like him.”

“I know.”

“Are you always so touchy-feely?” He asked, really enjoying how Robyn caressed his hand so lovingly.

“With you, it is very easy to be.”

“With him?”

“No.”

“He give you hugs?”

“Sometimes.”

“Squishy ones?”

“Never.”

He pulled his left hand from hers so he could engulf in her a cuddle, placing multiple kisses on her head until Robyn swotted him away with a giggle. “Stop Taron!”

“Just being affectionate.” He replied, swinging his left arm over her left shoulder.

“Hmmm sure.” Robyn gave his hand a little pull so she could hold it in hers again and without even asking him, started to lightly knead his skin, just loving the feeling of his large hand in hers, glad to find a simple but effective way to thank him for looking after her so well, her attention turned to the television as she moved her fingers over his knuckles.

It was a fun show and a very good distraction though having Taron’s commentary as he watched, was doing an even better job of making her smile as was his wonderful soft body under hers. It was a position of pure comfort and a long calming sigh left her body as she felt a sense of peace in her body and her mind. She felt Taron ease his hand from hers and so he could give her a little hug, leaving his arm resting down her left arm, drawing little soothing patterns on her skin.

The competition of the baking show immediately piqued his interest and three episodes in, he knew Robyn was smiling at him as he loudly voiced his sudden baking expertise. Although he was very much engaged in his new favourite show, he was relieved beyond belief that Robyn had finally become relaxed in his arms. He knew she wasn’t sleeping but happily lying with him and without a doubt he was very glad to keep her snug in his arms. With the way her head was tucked under his chin, he had the most perfect view of her body and he had at one point definitely taken a full look down the circular dip of her top. Having done so before in Paris, it wasn’t as naughty a look as the previous one he had and his heart hammered a little harder as it always did when he found himself taking sneaky glances at her.

One thing he did notice was that she wore a belt and in all the times he had known Robyn, not once had she worn a belt that he could remember. Maybe it was something he had never noticed before but having seen her in these particular pair of ripped jeans before he didn’t remember her wearing a belt. His mind started to think back through the weekend. Apart from that morning she had happily eaten everything put in front of her and even had made the pasta bake with him the night before but he couldn’t help but notice now, the little differences in her body as she lay against him. Telling himself, he was over thinking things and after her horrible night, of course she wouldn’t be up for eating that morning and just because she was suddenly wearing a belt it meant nothing and rubbed her left arm again, his eyes moving back to the television.

As the fourth episode was halfway through, Robyn was very sure Taron hadn’t realised that he had moved his right hand into her hair as he continued to comment on the cupcakes on the TV and he was very lightly brushing her hair over and over, the sensation of it so soothing. She could feel her eyes closing and leaned into his touch, Taron’s hand completely moving from her hair.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.” She said tilting her head back to look at him. “It was nice.”

“Your hair has gotten long again.”

“Due another cut.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“But yet you can cut yours?”

Taron laughed a little, his hand going back to her hair. “Mine is needed for work.”

“Mine is needed to keep it healthy.”

“It’s perfect. Maybe needs some colour.”

Robyn laughed a little. “You did like the pink didn’t you.”

“Just a bit.” Taron’s hand moved to her head and scratched it in little circles. “Do you want some pink?”

Robyn turned a little so she was lying on her side and she could properly look at him. “You have some pink hair dye in your bathroom?”

“Not quite but I have something else.” He went to move but felt Robyn’s hands on his chest. “What?”

“You want to move?”

“Well chicken to get the pink, I need to move.”

“But I am so cosy. You make a good pillow.”

“How about I offer to do your hair?”

“My hair?”

“I know you love it when someone plays with your hair. I have an idea. Trust me.”

With an over exaggerated sigh and stretch, Robyn moved and sat up, letting Taron up.

“It will be worth it.”

Taron left Robyn on the couch, a smile on his face as he walked into his spare room and the en suite inside. He routed through the bathroom cabinet, still smiling when he pulled out the hair chalk set he had bought for his sisters when they came to stay but never used. He then walked into his bedroom and his own en suite and picked up Robyn’s hairbrush and a towel and made his way back to his couch where Robyn was sitting, once again her hands on the back her neck. He dropped the chair chalk very gently on the ground to let her know he was on the way back, knowing she would hate it if he caught her trying to rub the obvious twinge she felt out.

“Sorry!” He called, bending down to pick up the packet. Once back up straight, she was sitting on the couch as if she had been in that position the whole time.

“What you got there?” Robyn moved her hands quickly away from her neck when she heard the slight bang on the ground. She was pretty sure it was because she had slept on the couch awkwardly that her neck ached, the top of her shoulders too and she used any moment Taron wasn’t around her to try and hastily rub hard out the soreness she felt, sitting up straight as he walked over to her.

“Hair chalk.” He answered coming to sit on her left. “I know you only washed your hair a few hours ago but I thought maybe you would like it and it gives me a perfect excuse to brush your hair a lot.” Her smile was beautiful and he could see that she tried very hard to hide the enthusiasm she wanted to show for him to do her hair.

“I think I would like that, a lot.” She grinned at him. It sounded like absolute heaven and she couldn’t wait for him to get started, hoping it might also help ease the light headache she could feel too.

“Though you might.” Taron put the hair chalk and towel on the coffee table. “I think we should move to the floor for this.” His throw was on the end of his couch and he stretched over to pick it up. “We can lay this on the floor so we can still be cosy.”

“Facing the television so you can continue to judge the baking.”

“Of course.”

Taron set the cosy soft throw on the floor, pushing the coffee table forwards a little so they had more room, making sure the fluffy blanket stretched right into and under the angled corner part of the couch. “I don’t want to have to wash the throw because it will wash the lovely softness away so I am going to put a towel down too.” Picking up the white towel from the coffee table Taron placed it diagonally on the throw. He grabbed the packet of hair chalk and Robyn’s hairbrush and sat himself on the floor, leaning his back into the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him.

“I am ready when you are.” He said patting the space in between his legs.

“Can I have mermaid hair?” Robyn asked him.

“Whatever you want chicken.”

“Give me two minutes to grab my hair clips. It will help you.” Robyn stood up and walked into the bedroom and to her case, picking up her make-up bag. Once unzipped, she took out four small hair claw grips and carried them back into the living area. She didn’t mind at all that she had only washed her hair that morning and was very much looking forward to what she knew was going to be an epic hair colouring session. Taron could have offered to colour her hair black and she wouldn’t have cared. It was her most favourite thing in the world for someone to do for her and she was more than ready to let him brush and colour her hair. “Here ya go.” She handed the four clips to Taron. “You can use them to clip up my hair to get the full colour effect.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all and I only wish I could return the favour.” Robyn said reaching forward to rub his head. “I could try but I don’t think it would work.” She sat down on the throw, moving back a little so she was in-between his legs.

“When my hair grows out, you can colour it however you want but not green and not semi-permanent dye. We are not going there again.”

Robyn laughed. “I still hold firm to the fact that it was your own doing. Nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah sure.” Taron said as he picked up Robyn’s large hairbrush and ran it carefully through her hair. “Because you didn’t plant that bottle on your dresser.”

“Of course not. It was always there.”

Taron moved the brush to the top of her hair and brushed it through, smiling at the ease with how the brush slipped through her hair. “Hmmm…” He answered her quietly.

Robyn moved to sit with her legs crossed, her knees resting lightly on Taron’s own legs, already feeling relaxed as he brushed through every part of her hair. She could feel him running his hand flat down her hair after he brushed it and she chuckled as he got distracted for a moment by the cupcakes on the screen decorated with very intricate honeycomb shards. His hands stalled by his legs and Robyn turned her head around to watch him, his eyes locked on the screen, his face in awe of the cupcake presented to the judges.

“So I guess next on our baking list is cupcakes and I suppose we could make the honeycomb too.”

Taron realised he had been slightly ignoring his task at hand and felt a blush in his cheeks. “Sorry.” He brought his hands back to her hair.

“You don’t have to say sorry. The cakes on this programme are insane. I knew you would like it.”

“How do people come up with those ideas.”

“Professionals are pretty good at that Taron.” She chuckled as she felt her hair thrown over her face, using her two hands to brush it back. “Mature. So you don’t want to make cupcakes and top them with honeycomb then?”

“You can make honeycomb?” He asked fixing her hair back straight.

“It’s pretty simple. Just sugar and golden syrup and then adding some bicarbonate of soda when they are melted together. Pop it on a tray and let it harden and done.”

“Is there anything you can’t bake?” He asked gathering all of her hair together in a low ponytail at her neck.

“Lots of things. I just look up the recipes and they normally work for me.” She said to him, smiling as she felt him gently twisting her hair around and doing what she could only suppose was a bun.

“Next time can we make chocolate cupcakes with honeycomb shards on top?”

“Sure. You having fun there?” She could feel him clipping one of her hair combs in but her hair fell out of it when Taron hadn’t gripped the bun properly to the rest of her hair.

“How do you do those fancy hair styles? I can’t even clip your hair up,”

“Just a girl thing.” She shrugged.

“How am I meant to clip your hair up myself to get to the back to colour it?”

“Want me to do it?”

“Just show me how so I can do it for the next part.”

“Sure.” Robyn took the clip he handed her and left it balanced on his right leg and separated her hair, taking most of it in her hands, leaving the back of her hair down. She did a quick twisting motion and then twirled her hair into a bun and picking up the clip, opened it and caught her hair up on the top her head, the bun staying firmly put. “Like that.” She turned around to Taron, grinning at his blank face.

“Not a hope. Would you like to do that again but in slow motion?” He asked shaking his head.

“Sure.” Robyn took the clip out, leaving it on his leg again. “But this time you are going to do it.”

“I don’t think…”

“You are going to do it.” She interrupted him. “I won’t be able to see which hair is coloured and which is not and won’t be able to help you when you need to clip up the non-coloured hair so you are going to have to do it. It isn’t rocket science Taron. It’s hair. Now lift up my hair, leaving some at the back.”

Knowing she wouldn’t do it herself until he tried, Taron followed Robyn’s first instruction and lifted her hair, making sure some still fell down her back.

“Ok now twist it around and don’t worry about twisting it too much, it only needs a few turns.”

A bit confused at first with how he was meant to actually twist her hair, it took him four tries before he managed to find a way to rotate her hair and after five turns, stopped. “Ok now in the bun?”

“Yep as high as you can go.” It was so lovely having someone else do her hair and even though he did snag a few strands as he coiled her hair into a pretty tight bun, she did her best not to squirm and after another twist felt him hold the bun in his left hand. “And clip it.” She handed him the clip from his leg. “Use a second clip or a third if you need it.” Robyn felt the comb scratch her scalp and a second added before Taron took his hands away.

“Hey it stayed!” He said excitedly.

“Not a bother to you. Now you can colour until your hearts content.”

“I will be doing plaits next.”

“Don’t run before you walk rocketman. Plaits are a bit more complicated.”

Taron reached for the hair chalk and opened the packet, laying the five colours out on his right side. “I have a good teacher.” He said as he opened the pink chalk.

“Plaits are much more intricate. Lots of crossing different sections of hair.”

“Maybe I will stick to colouring.” He said as he took up some hair in his hands and dragged the hair chalk through it. “Last chance to back out Robyn.”

“Nope. I want mermaid hair.”

“Okie dokie.”

After colouring that one section pink, Taron divided the remaining hair into four other sections, giving each one its own colour. He then carefully took the two clips out and let her hair down, untwisting it as he went. As Robyn showed him, he separated some more of her hair and tied it back up again, finding his movements a little quicker, especially when there wasn’t as much hair to tie up. Just like he had done before, he sectioned off Robyn’s hair and coloured it but made the pattern different to the colours behind, making sure each colour was pretty pigmented though with the blonde colour in her hair, it was easy for each one to stand out. Once done, he brushed through all the loose hair, glad he placed the towel down on his throw as some dusty chalk fell from her hair. “Robyn, I might be ruining your top a little with the chalk. Possibly your shoulders too.”

“That’s ok Taron.”

“I might have put way too much chalk in. I just wanted the colour to stand out more.”

“It’s fine Taron. I don’t mind. It is only chalk. It will wash out.” Robyn happily sat as she was, tucked neatly inside Taron’s legs, smiling at the playfulness she could feel from him as he unclipped her hair and tied some back up again. “You are loving this aren’t you?” She said to him, moving her hands to tickle under his knees, laughing as he kicked his legs away from her touch.

“I have never had a girlfriend who would let me mess with their hair like this.�� He said without thinking, his words pausing quickly. “I mean not that they wouldn’t, just… well yeah they wouldn’t.” He felt Robyn place her hands on his knees. “I guess it’s a girl thing.” Taron stopped colouring her hair green when he realised what he said and felt the second squeeze to his knees. “You know what I mean.”

“Colour away Taron. I don’t mind at all and yeah I do. I know what you mean.” Never one for frills, Robyn knew how easy going she was and she uncrossed her legs and turned around so she could give him a hug, followed by a kiss on his cheek. “I believe you still have half a head left to colour Mr Egerton.” She settled herself back on the throw and crossed her legs again.

Glad to feel his heart slowing down, Taron picked up the piece of hair he was colouring green and with the hair chalk still in his hands, dragged it down again. For once it was just a few of her words that brought him round and as always, he was more than thankful for her. He let the last section her hair down and shuffled a little closer to her back so he could reach the top of her hair. Working his way around, he coloured each little inch around the crown of her head, making sure two of each colour was visible. His hands were the same colour of her hair and he grinned as he finally finished and ran his hands through her hair from front to back, picking up the brush to make sure there were no tangles. “And done!” He cheered followed by a quick bless you as Robyn sneezed.

“Bless you!” He laughed again as she sneezed twice more but his smile turned when he heard a murmur of a groan come from her lips, watching as her hands went to the back of her neck again.

She couldn’t stop the first sneeze or the second but the third went straight to her sore neck and without thinking she brought her hands to her neck, to rub the skin roughly before she even realised what she was doing and when she when to take her hands away, felt her fingers being gently grabbed by Taron’s hands.

“Robyn?” His voice was soft and so clearly filled with worry.

“I don’t think I can sleep on your couch in the same way you can’t sleep on mine.” She shook his hands free from hers and dug her fingertips into her neck. “Just a bit of a twinge. I will be fine.”

“Can I?” He asked, placing his fingers over hers again. “It’s awkward trying to rub your own neck.”

“It’s ok. Just a small niggle.”

“Robyn…”

Every now and again Taron’s accent would creep back into his tone and as he said her name with a Welsh twang and she took her hands from her neck, letting his replace hers and with the lightest of movements, felt him move his hands to rest on her shoulders, the pads of his thumbs moving up and down with a feathery pressure, her chin falling to her chest as Taron was nothing but gentle with his strokes.

Robyn hated massages, always had but she had never been converted so quickly in those five seconds when Taron got his hands on her. Keeping the power she knew he had in his hands at bay, he was so tentative with his touch, barely pressing into her skin.

“Can I offer you even a little relief from a very light massage?” He asked her, feeling how she didn’t even try to stop him. “Just a teeny tiny one. I can loan you a voucher.” Robyn laughed at his words. “It’s already been a shit night; we don’t need to add a shit day to it.”

“My day has been brilliant.” She replied to him lifting her head. “I have mermaid hair.” She pulled her hair around so she could look at the colours. “That’s a good job Taron.”

“You avoiding my request?” He asked. “It’s part of your birthday present.” He teased.

“Nice try Taron.” She replied, moving so she knelt opposite him. “The birthday presents ended yesterday.”

“Maybe they didn’t.” He shrugged. “I just know from experience that it helps.”

Robyn smiled a little, looking to his innocent face, those deep green eyes. “Maybe a little one then.” She said tilting her head, watching as Taron’s face broke into a full grin. “A little one Taron.”

“A little one.” He agreed. “Let me just get something really quick.” He pulled his legs from around her and got to his feet. “Give me two seconds.”

“Taron…” Robyn warned.

“Two seconds.” He repeated walking around her and back into his spare room’s bathroom. He gave his hands a quick wash with some soap to get all the chalk off and then picked up a small bottle of massage oil, an extra Christmas present from his mates, slagging him off with what he could use it for. It turned out it was going to come in useful after all. Trying to keep his face steady, he walked back to Robyn who was still sitting as he had left her. He held up the small bottle. “Fair is fair right?” He said handing it to her while he settled himself as he had been sitting, Robyn reading the writing on the bottle.

“This is some fancy oil. Chamomile, lavender and argan oil? ‘Calming massage oil for sleep and sore muscles’.” She read.

“Perfect I should think. Sleep and sore muscles?” He held his hand out for the oil. “It was a present from Deian at Christmas. Thought I needed a helping hand.” Taron froze, his eyes widening as he realised what he said, that all too familiar blush flaming through his cheeks. “There is really no coming back from that one, is there?” He said, letting his head hit his couch.

“Not really, no.” Robyn agreed, feeling her own flush at his words. “So let’s see how good this expensive oil is.” She turned around, taking up her previous crossed legged position. “You will have to use your newly learnt hair skills to clip up my hair. I don’t think har chalk and oil will mix very well.”

“Sure.” His face was still hot and red and he could feel a little shake to his hands but gathered her hair and twisted it, before making it into a bun, using three clips to make sure it stayed in place, giving it a little jiggle to ensure it wasn’t moving anywhere. “Robyn you can tell me to stop whenever you want or if I press too hard and it won’t be a long one. I know you are not too fond of this but even ten minutes could relieve that little pain you feel and I will stick to just your neck, maybe a little of your shoulders, but no further.”

“I trust you.” Robyn spent a lot of her time wondering what would have happened if Taron hadn’t come to Ireland to find her and knew well she would have been stuck in the same old rut she had found herself in if he hadn’t of knocked on her work door and lately, thanked her lucky stars for his stubborn persistence in everything he ever did for her. Staying seated with her legs crossed, keeping the contact of her legs against his, Robyn let her chin rest against her chest ready to let Taron try and smooth away her ache.

To say he was excited was an understatement. Taron had thought about a moment like this for weeks, maybe even months but never thought he would ever get the opportunity to repay her with a massage of her own and was warming his hands together, rubbing his palms round and round to make sure his skin was warm before he touched Robyn. He picked up the small bottle of oil, still feeling completely embarrassed with his earlier words and poured some onto his hands, continuing to rub his hands together, now warming up the oil. He knew the first touch would make her jump and it was same when she first touched his shoulders but he rested his hands for moment before he moved his thumbs very lightly, the slick oil making it a lot easier than before. He only moved his thumbs, concentrating on her neck, keeping the pressure delicate and safe, smiling when he heard a tiny little appreciated sigh come from her.

“You ok Robyn?”

“Perfect.”

“Yeah?” He asked wanting to make sure she was truly comfortable and not just telling him so to make him happy.

“I won’t break Taron. It’s ok to press a little harder. I think the twinge needs you to be less delicate.”

“You sure?” He asked not expecting her to even suggest to him to knead her skin a little harder.

“I am sure.”

“Tell me if it is too much.”

“Will do.” Robyn said but she desperately just wanted to press her hands into his, forcing him to dig his fingertips into her neck. The combination of his always warm hands and the oil was perfect and she sighed happily again as she felt that deeper pressure she had asked him to give her. She could already feel an ease in the tension she was feeling.

Taron took his time as he rolled her skin under his fingers, at one point really pushing a little of his weight behind his thumbs, smiling to himself as he felt Robyn push back into his hands and he repeated the roll movement a few more times. He had happily worked on her neck for a few minutes and having gotten into a smooth rhythm, let his eyes cast over her shoulders. Freckles still littered her skin and he smiled at the memory of the ones on her nose which were long gone as her tan from Florida faded months ago. He took his hands away from her beck and poured some more oil onto his hands and once smoothed around his palms, placed his hands back on her neck, moving his hands towards her left and right to her shoulder, his thumbs once again doing all the work in rubbing her skin. Making easy circles, switching it up between large and small ones on her shoulders, Taron grinned as each freckle disappeared under his thumbs, only to reappear again. She hadn’t moved and under his hands, he could feel her breathing settle into easy deep breathes and it was the calmest he had felt her since she woke up from her nightmare and knowing he was well past his promised ten minutes, he continued to massage and mould her shoulders and neck, moving back to focus only on her neck, gliding his thumbs up and down, making gentle circles.

Robyn knew Taron was being so extra careful with his movement but the extra pressure he finally used was amazing and very quickly he had rubbed out her twinge but she didn’t tell him to stop and when his hands moved to her shoulders, she could have hugged him as she could feel every inch of tension she had been carrying leave her body. Her shoulders automatically dropped when he moved back to her neck and just the simple easy strokes were enough to further relax her. After her horrid night and holding herself so straight and rigid, she found Taron’s wonderful suggestion of a little massage the perfect medicine to help her touch base with herself again and when he took his hands away, she definitely felt disappointed.

“Two more minutes?” She said lifting her head and turning to look at him, glad to see his lips turn to a smile.

“Sure chicken.”

It was the quickest two minutes but when Taron finally took his hands away, Robyn felt completely relaxed and as she lifted her head, the twinge which had been bothering her was magically gone. She rolled her neck and sighed once again. She moved so she could face him and took his hands in hers, both still slippery from the massage oil.

“My turn huh?” He chuckled as Robyn now dug her thumbs into his palms.

“Something like that.” She said, keeping her eyes on his hands. “Thanks Taron.”

“Feel better?”

“Much.” She agreed. “I didn’t realise I needed it so badly.”

“Well I am always willing to help you out with that Robyn. Anything to ease any pain you feel.”

“I know.” She said, linking her fingers with his. “I know you are always there for me, no matter what.”

“Did I help change your mind about massages?” He asked, noticing how she had yet to look at him.

“Maybe.” Robyn answered him, trying to keep the smile from her face but it was so hard.

“I told you back when we went to the musical that I would.”

“Yes you did.” She finally took a look to him, his face full of pride. “Don’t get too cocky Taron. One little massage.”

“One can lead to more.” He chuckled. “You sure it helped?” He asked stopping her from rubbing is hands, by holding hers.

“It did. It really really did. See?” She rolled her neck around. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. So how about some birthday cake?” He asked, not wanting to linger on the subject of her massage for too long, feeling she would begin to get embarrassed soon, so was happy to bring their conversation in a little sneaky way around to food, hoping she would take him up on his suggestion of eating some cake. “I really need someone to help me make a dint in it before I am back to work.”

“You could always bring it into work.” She hinted.

“And let them know I can bake? No way. I will be hounded to bake more often.”

“Because I definitely don’t know how that feels.” She laughed a little. “I still think you should bring at least three quarters of it into work tomorrow Taron.” She let go of his hands and stood up, reaching down to take his hands again, helping him to his feet. “Thanks for pushing me out of my boundaries in a good way.” She said to him, pulling him into her for a hug. “Sometimes I just need that little extra encouragement and support.”

“Always Robyn.”

Once they ended their hug, Taron led her into the kitchen and as she sat at the island, he got the chocolate birthday cake from the fridge and cut one large slice from it, putting it onto a plate, moving the plate in front of Robyn. Grabbing the carton of milk he bought in the shop earlier that morning and two glasses, he came to sit beside her on a stool.

“And we will eat this with our hands?” She asked him picking up one of the treats from inside the cake up to eat it.

Taron bit his lip a little, a smile on his face as he realised he forget to get the forks and got to his feet to take two from his cutlery drawer. “I do believe you had no problem eating the cake with your fingers yesterday.” He said to her handing her a fork.

Robyn grinned. “True.” She used the fork to cut through the cake. “I want a fork today though.”

Laughing at her answer, Taron just shook his head, digging his own fork into the cake. Bit by bit he could see Robyn coming back to herself, her mood lifting, her slight slagging and giddiness a lovely relief to him from the stressed woman he had seen last night. He was thankful for her full trust in him, giving him the chance to help her in little ways, letting him do so and he very much enjoyed looking after her. It was just a tiny bit of protection compared to everything she had ever done for him but it meant the world to him.

Cake eaten and plates and glasses placed into the dishwashwer, the two settled back onto the couch, once again Taron taking the corner, Robyn took her hair from the bun Taron had placed in her hair, nestled into his side, this time on her own right side rather than her back, her head finding a cosy spot on his chest, her left arm wrapping around him. Safe and secure, Robyn smiled as he pressed play on the TV, the baking show back on the screen, feeling Taron’s voice vibrate in his chest as he began his commentary on the contestants on the show. It was the purest of comfort and one she always felt in his arms and she could feel her eyes closing but instead of being afraid this time to let her eyes close, she concentrated on the strong heart beat under her ear and the incredibly tight arm around her waist. Without a doubt, she knew Taron would never let anything happen to her and it was that knowledge of trust and safekeeping, that helped her drift off into a light slumber, a deeper sleep that was desperately needed following soon after.

Taron kept his hand tight around her side, feeling her breathing deepen after a while and the swirling nerves in his stomach took a while to settle, he was so worried she was going to wake again in a panic but after nearly forty minutes of just watching her sleep, Taron felt he could finally relax, knowing that for the moment, Robyn was too. Just thoroughly exhausted, her whole body had given in to her sleep and knowing she found his body warm and cosy, was relieved to see her sleeping. It was why he had asked her to stay with him. To just watch over her and make sure she wasn’t alone as he knew she would have been if she had of gone home. She needed the support and maybe for the first time, willingly accepted it without one argument. If she did wake, he was right there ready to give her as many cuddles as she needed, to talk her through her nightmare and hold her shaking hands. He just needed her to believe that she could fully trust him and lean on him and doing so would not lead to heart break. Feeling his own tensions leave him, Taron turned his focus back to the TV. He knew he would be able to feel any change in Robyn’s sleeping pattern as she lay against him so instead of staring at her, turned his eyes to the cake on the screen, his right hand moving over Robyn’s left arm as she cuddled him, keeping even more of a connection with her as she slept.

Her eyes fluttered open, a little happy sleepy moan leaving her lips and she nestled her head a little deeper into the wonderful warmth under her cheek. It took her a while to fully open her eyes and she was met with that simple rise and fall of Taron’s chest as he breathed deeply. She knew he was asleep before she even lifted her head and his arm resting over hers on his stomach made her smile. Keeping her close to him, she definitely felt more than safe in his arms. Trying not to jostle Taron’s arm too much, she turned her left arm so she could check her watch and was so surprised to see it was near three in the morning. The TV was quiet, that annoying are you still watching sign on the screen and the only noise in the room was from Taron’s deep breathing through slightly parted lips.

As her mind slowly woke up, it suddenly dawned on her that she had slept and slept so soundly, not waking once, still cuddled against the perfect man under her and he was more than perfect. He was the most caring and compassionate man, only ever having her best interests at heart and Robyn knew if she had of gone home, she wouldn’t have slept so perfectly for the last nine or so hours. Taron’s presence always calmed her when she was anxious and was always guaranteed a long night’s sleep when he was with her, a long and uninterrupted sleep. Turning her face, she kissed his clothed chest and was more than ready to get some more sleep to use his heat to keep her warm, finally feeling that chill her body was used to feeling but she could feel her bladder protesting and was desperate for a wee. His right arm was limply resting on her waist and having already slipped her left arm from under his right, she could ease herself from him without bumping him once, leaving him sleeping on the couch as she got to her feet, a long full body stretch filling her. She rolled her neck, so glad to feel twinge free and looked to Taron as he slept, her face breaking into a full grin as she saw all the colours on his white t-shirt where her head had been laying on his chest.

“Oh oh.”

Marbled pinks, blues and greens smeared his top and Robyn knew it was from her hair from the hair chalk. Glad it was only on his top that could be easily washed and not his couch, Robyn tried to think of how she could save his clothes from a colouring as she walked to the bathroom in his bedroom. All of the lights were still on and she groaned when she saw her face in the mirror so glad she woke up before Taron. Not only was his t-shirt stained like a rainbow, so was her right cheek and it brought a smile to her face as she rubbed her cheek. She tore some toilet paper off and after wetting it, cleaned her face, glad at how easily the chalk rubbed off, happy to know Taron’s white t-shirt could be saved. Dropping the wet tissue in the bin, she used the toilet and was washing her hands when she heard a very troubled voice come her way.

What woke him was a little chill on his left side and the weight that had been snuggled into him was gone. He loved feeling Robyn’s body tight against his and he had become so used to her sleeping with him when they saw each other, that he immediately missed her. His eyes opened, going straight to where Robyn should have been.

“Fucking hell. Not again.” He jumped to his feet, feeling a slight head rush with the speed of his movements and faltered a little until his vision cleared, his steps long and purposeful, almost in a run. “Robyn?” He called, glancing in the kitchen before making his way to his bedroom. “Robyn!” He shouted pushing the door open, his heart hammering in his chest, even more so when she came out of his bathroom.

“Hey. I am here.”

“Robyn.” His voice softer, he quickly closed the gap between them and pulled her into his for a very tight hug, her arm’s trapped in-between them as he held her close.

“Taron?” She had heard his loud worried tone and could feel how he was hugging her with a little too much force.

“You were gone again.” He said into her neck.

“I needed a wee and you were fast asleep.”

“Had me worried.”

“Yeah I can see that. I am fine Taron. Just nature calling.” She jiggled her hands, glad that he realised what she was trying to do, giving her some space to free her hands and once they weren’t caught between their bodies, returned his hug, giving his back a rub. “I am ok. I promise. I slept so perfectly Taron. Sorry to worry you.”

“I just thought…”

“Nope. Perfect sleep Taron. Not a dream in sight.” She felt his exhale on her skin.

“Ok.” He lifted her from her feet a little, then giving her cheek a kiss. “You sure?” He asked ending the hug.

“I always get such a nice sleep with you.” She said, feeling a little blush in her cheeks. “Not that I don’t sleep when you are not around but with you it is always that little bit cosier.”

“Same for me but I think you know this already. Nice to know you feel the same though.”

“I do and I must apologise for running your t-shirt. The chalk in my hair as rubbed all over your chest.”

Taron let Robyn go and looked down to his t-shirt, a smile on his face as he saw the new colours on the white, so obviously from Robyn’s hair and where she lay on him. “That’s ok. It’s a new design.”

“It will wash out.”

“Yeah it will. So you ready to come back and sleep some more? I am so glad you have slept Robyn. You needed it badly but it is still pretty late. I am sure you could so with a few more peaceful hours.”

“Yeah I think so too but let’s try and sleep in the bed this time. You and me have this thing about couches.” Taron laughed a little. “I hope you’re not going to end up with a sore back after sleeping on the couch.”

“Nah I am good but I do think moving to the bed is a good idea. Let me just turn off some lights.” He saw a chance in her eyes, a tiny flicker of panic. “We can leave the bedside light on in here.”

“Ok.” Robyn agreed. “I am just going to change out of my jeans. Meet you on the bed.”

“Sure.”

It was the quickest Taron had ever locked up his apartment and as he closed the bedroom door, smiled to see Robyn already under the duvet, sitting up waiting for him.

“Give me two seconds in the bathroom.”

“Take your time.”

When he was done, he turned off the bathroom light and climbed into the bed, sitting right beside Robyn, feeling bare skin against his legs, smiling as he realised she had changed into a pair of shorts. He shuffled down in the bed, opening his arms for Robyn and without hesitation, she took up a familiar position as to how they were laying on the couch.

“Want the TV on?” He asked her.

“Nope I am good.” Robyn rubbed her face into his chest, trying to find the most comfortable position and once settled, draped her left arm over his stomach, Taron’s left arm going to her waist. “Thank you for this weekend Taron. It has been the most amazing birthday I have ever had.”

“Really?” He asked finding it hard to believe.

“Even with the horrible nights sleep last night, I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend. I got to see you and Richard and you gave me everything and more than I ever could have asked for. I can’t say anything but thank you for all you have done for me, for my birthday and last night. Thanks for being patient with me, listening to me and just caring so much.”

“Always Robyn.” He said to her, giving her hair a small kiss. “I am glad you had a nice weekend.”

“Nice? It was the best. Perfect.”

Taron chuckled at her words. “You are welcome chicken. Now sleep. I am right here. I am always here.”

“I know.”

Closing her eyes and trying to snuggle a little deeper into him, Robyn felt calm and relaxed, comforted in knowing that after everything that happened during the weekend, she could trust Taron and fully lean on him, feeling a little more of that broken heart she always struggled with, being healed with the kindness and love from him.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Trust #Friendship #Cuddles #Hugs #Worry #Excitement #New Experiences #Helping #Robyn and Taron

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sallytheseamstress · 4 years

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HAPPIESTPLACEHQ Task 1 - Routine

Describe a routine day in the life of your character

What is their daily routine?

Sally is a creature of habit, and while it can feel a bit stifling to do the same thing every single day at the same exact hour, she does acknowledge there’s a certain comfort to it, like wearing her favorite, if somewhat old-fashioned dress. Her daily weekly routine goes thusly:

6:00am → Sally’s alarm clock goes off. She usually stays in bed just a little longer, more or less ten minutes more. Then her scheduled phone alarm goes off, she lets out a little sigh and gets out of bed to start the day.

6:20am → Sally takes a quick shower, brushes her teeth and checks on her hair. She used to dye it red constantly, bleaching it and dying it and bleaching it again when the roots showed. She used to do it since she was more or less seventeen, as a way of rebelling against her father’s strict rules about keeping appearances. So many chemicals, though, have kind of ruined it to the point that she hates it so much she prefers to wear a wig, at least until it grows back healthy enough to style it properly.

6:40am → Sally finishes getting dressed and goes downstairs to prepare breakfast. It almost always consists of scrambled eggs, toast with butter and strawberry jam, and black coffee for her father and black tea for her. When the table’s ready she goes upstairs and helps her father get dressed, makes his bed and they go downstairs so they can have breakfast together. They usually spend it in complete silence though, with him checking the mail and reading the newspaper while Sally checks the weather for the day and gulps down her tea while quickly preparing herself her own lunch.

7:00am → Sally accompanies her father to the school. He is adamant about being early, sometimes earlier than any other teacher in Redwood High, at 7:20am. Sometimes, if he’s in a good mood, he’ll talk about something he read in the news; most of the time they remain silent, or comment briefly on some minor surprise on their way to the school: a new bird’s nest, a trimming of a neighbour’s hedges, a change in a shopwindow’s display.

7:30am → Sally arrives at Jack’s Attic Holiday Shop. Whether Zero’s in, she either sweeps a bit (they tend to keep the windows open so it doesn’t feel as shut-in and crowded by decorations and knickknacks as it seems, so that means a fair amount of dust gets in basically daily) or, if he has already swept some, she plays around with the sorting of the inventory, trying new ways to make it look more engaging and attractive, or she checks on the shopwindows’ displays (which are styled for the nearest coming holiday) to see if anything has come out of place, if a cardboard letter may have fallen from its position in a festive sentence, or if a little mechanical toy needs some winding up or new batteries.

8:00am → Sally and Zero open the shop’s doors. Usually the shop’s a quiet, empty place until the six-to-four days before any given holiday arrive, when people usually do their last minute shopping for decorations, so she spends the day either planning projects for the Community Events Committee, chatting with Zero, or sketching ideas for sets, costumes or for her own wardrobe, if she has recently bought any new fabric.

11:30am → Sally and Zero have lunch. She usually buys a tuna sandwich from a nearby store, or brings her own meal. Most often, she also brings something else to share with Zero, even if it’s only half a chocolate bar or a bite of a blueberry muffin.

12:00am → Lunchtime is officially over. Unless someone comes into the shop, though, lunchtime ends when lunchtime ends.

16:30pm → Sally’s shift is officially over. If it’s a lazy, empty day, she says goodbye to Zero and helps close the store; if it’s a busy day, she most likely stays a little longer, usually until around 18:00pm.

17:00pm → Sally arrives home. Her father is always waiting for her there; his class assistant helps him get back to the house at around 16:00pm. While he grades essays and exams, or prepares the next day’s classes, Sally gets dinner going.

18:00pm → Sally and her father have dinner. Again, whether or not her father is in a good mood, they either watch some TV to fill out the silence, or try to talk a little bit -usually he is the one to talk, about some kid who “forgot” to do his homework, the latest teacher’s room gossip, or some other misbehaviour. He is a pretty slow eater.

19:00pm → Sally washes the dishes and changes into her pajamas. Her father watches TV in the living room, and while Sally sometimes joins him if the program interests her, it’s most often than not some old baseball game or a court drama. She prefers to spend this time to herself, reading a book, listening to music, working on a sewing project, or finishing up some drawing or design.

20:00pm → Sally helps her father go upstairs. Since she usually forgets to make her own bed, she makes her bed by this time. After her father brushes his teeth she does the same, and helps him get in bed. He usually reads for some time before turning off his light. Sally, in the meantime, prepares their outfits for the next day, ironing them and setting them aside. Around 20:30pm she is done and goes to bed. She might read if she has any energy left, or write some ideas she may have come up with.

21:00pm → The Finkelstein’s house’s lights are turned off.

How does their week compare to the weekend?

During the weekend, Sally dedicates half her day to working for the Community Events Committee on whatever project they’re currently developing. This is the highlight of her week: she’s at her most participative and creative. The latter half, she dedicates to cooking and cleaning the house, buying the weekly groceries, and, if she has any time left, having a walk in the park to get some fresh air.

What happens if their routine is broken?

It rarely, if ever, happens; but when it does, it’s usually because of some sort of accident: Sally drops a plate or a cup, she burns the eggs, she oversleeps, she gets home late. All of these incidents are further worsened by William giving her daughter a strong-worded, long-winded chiding. She is expected to take it quietly and, when he’s done, fix it and continue with their day as normally as possible. If she talks back, however, it devolves into a whole argument in which Sally always comes out losing. Besides, if she complains, she usually ends up being late to her own job or for her own chores, which means she’ll have to make up for it, so it really is a matter of just how fed up Sally feels whether or not she decides to risk it.

#happiestplacetask #happiestplacetask1 #sally finkelstein #. HEADCANONS { try as i may it doesn’t last }

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

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Andy Warhol Arguments

PART TWENTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: vomiting, periods, mentions of parent death, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.9K

Summary: Ella feels the stress of her new life in Philadelphia.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jess shut the alarm clock off and furrowed his brows when he saw Ella wasn’t next to him. Her side of the bed was cold and didn’t look nearly as disheveled. But the anxiety at her absence quickly subsided as he walked out into the living room. With papers strewn around on the coffee table in front of her, Ella had spread out on the couch with no blanket, despite the Autumn chill in the air. She was still in her dress from the day before, and it was twisted around her form, riding up her thighs. Mascara was smudged around her eyes. Jess smirked, then went over and began shaking her shoulder gently. The light was soft through the gray curtains, and the sky was overcast. Even still, she squinted as she stirred awake, confused at her location.

“Elle? Wake up,” Jess said, coaxing her out of her groggy state. “Jeez, how late did you stay up?”

She sighed, sitting up and gathering herself. “I don’t know. I was grading essays for at least a couple more hours after you went to bed. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I was just gonna rest for a little while. Obviously, that was naive of me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek before going to put on the tea and coffee in the kitchen.

“What time is it?” she asked, stretching her arms high over her head as she stood up, her skirt falling around her knees again. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to wake herself up and shake off the throb pulsing behind her eyes.

“Seven,” Jess replied, filling the coffee pot up with water.

Ella nodded, relieved. Her first class wasn’t until nine. At least she would have time to shower off her makeup from the day before, and brush her teeth. The taste in her mouth made her grimace; she couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep without brushing her teeth. It was almost time for midterms at school, and the students in the art history class she was a teacher’s assistant for had just turned in their first major essays. Overall, they were pretty decent. But, she was also never one to shy away from the red pen. Shuffling the stacks of paper on the table into neat rectangles, she stifled a yawn.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, coming to lean against the island. “I’d probably scare the undergrads if I showed up like this. Thanks for waking me. I would’ve slept forever if I could.”

“I know.” Jess turned on the tea kettle and faced her. “You gotta take it a little easier. I think that vein in your forehead is bound to pop, the way things are going.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Mariano. The concern is appreciated but not necessary.”

“You’ve slept a total of, like, seven hours in the past three days,” he argued.

“Hypocrite,” she scoffed, making for their bedroom again to get fresh clothes.

“Nihilist,” Jess retorted, calling after her. He would’ve worried about the volume of his voice so early in the morning, but he could already hear Matthew and Chris talking through the walls.

Ella chuckled breathily, half-heartedly. “I’m not the one who hung Nietzche above our bed.”

. . .

Despite Ella’s time at Luke’s, she had never mastered making breakfast. Or cooking in general. Baking came natural and easy, her pies a hit at every single holiday and gathering she brought them to. But she burned the toast, didn’t fry the bacon long enough, couldn’t get the pancakes just right. Jess, however, had somehow picked up cooking skills between sighs and snide remarks. He and Chris took turns making breakfast sometimes, when everyone didn’t just resort to cereal. It was common knowledge in the apartment, though, that both Ella and Matthew were best away from the kitchen in the morning hours.

As Ella reemerged from the bedroom, her hair damp and braided, her simple black dress loose and comfortable, the smell of the scrambled eggs Jess was making hit her in the face. Pepper and butter and orange juice mixed in, Chris on the couch flipping through the news channels on the TV sat opposite, Matthew at the counter talking with Jess. With everyone up so early, it made sense Jess would make something. She wondered sometimes if it was nostalgia which drove him, serving them food as Luke did his customers. And, of course, he lived above the business he owned just like his uncle. Ella had pointed out the irony to him more than once. After all, Ella knew just how much Jess looked up to Luke, even if he would never admit it in so many words.

Her stomach did a flip instead of growling as it usually would have, as the ache in her head pounded with the beat of her heart. It made her want to sigh audibly, but she bit it back. The only silver lining of the morning had been not bleeding through her dress and onto the couch, her period having shown up at some point in the night. Cramps were already twisting her insides, nauseating her.

“Did you hear what Bush did last night?” Chris asked, head perking up when he saw her enter the room. He held a coffee in one hand, the liquid pale from copious amounts of milk and sugar.

“Please don’t tell me,” she said tiredly, hopping onto a stool next to Matthew. “I can’t handle his idiocy this morning.”

“I’ll spare you, then.”

“Thank you so much.”

Matthew chuckled breathily at them, sipping from his own mug. He was clean-shaven again, having stayed at the apartment for the first time in several days. Still, they did not know the name of the mysterious girlfriend.

“He’s never that nice to me,” Matthew said, his words a joking sigh.

Ella shrugged. “He owes me for covering his ass when he pissed off that spoken word lady last week.”

“Not my fault,” Chris chimed in from the couch, defensive.

“Right, so when you told her she wasn’t as important as the other woman, that wasn’t your fault? Someone else said that?” Ella prodded, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Chris sighed heavily. “I didn’t say that. She just heard me wrong.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Ella chided.

Scoffing, Chris turned his eyes back to the TV and said nothing more. Ella snorted at his petulance, facing ahead where Jess stood over the stove. With a spatula in one hand and the handle of a frying pan in the other, she was reminded again of their days at the diner. Of a lonely morning when Luke had an appointment and Ella had gotten into a fight with her father. It was the first time Jess had made her breakfast. A wistful look crossed her face, and she was lost in thought when Jess put her tea down in a mug in front of her.

“Earth to Eleanor,” he said, waving a hand in front of her face. “What, thinking about Emily Dickinson again?”

“Close, but no,” she replied, blinking herself out of her daze and taking the mug with both hands. She blew steam from the top and shot him a small smile. “Thanks, cutie.”

Rolling his eyes, Jess went back to the stove with a flushed face. He didn’t have to look back over to know she had a teasing grin on her lips. Since their ride to California, she’d been poking at him with the nickname. He thought she would let it go, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. And though he wouldn’t admit it, as he blushed, it was growing on him just a touch. Besides, he knew it was due retaliation for ‘honey,’ which he still used on a daily basis.

“You want toast with these eggs?” he asked, hoping his face would cool down sometime soon.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella shook her hand. “No thanks, actually, I’m good without either. Just tea is fine.”

Jess’s brows furrowed immediately and he looked up from his work, tilting his head at her. “Really? You sure?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Getting a good look at her, he thought she was paler than normal, though it could have just been his imagination. Lack of sleep probably wasn’t helping her pallor, anyway.

“You might be hungry later.”

“Well, I’ll come back here for lunch. Four hours isn’t so long,” she said, her tone light against his puzzled gaze.

“Okay, Stevens,” he said suspiciously, but then let the subject drop. It was strange for her to skip breakfast, sure. But it was also strange for her to stay up half the night grading papers; perhaps she was just having an off day.

Her eyes lingered on his a little longer, but she kept her emotions masked beneath a complacent smile. Eventually, Jess focused back on the eggs which he was apparently making for himself. Matthew had a plate in front of him, and Chris had already scarfed his down.

“Oh my god, guys,” Chris piped up from the couch again.

Ella suppressed a groan; he updated them on various happenings from the news every single morning. The information was rarely relevant to anything.

“What?” Jess asked flatly, putting the eggs on his own plate and setting them down across the counter from Ella. He leaned against the tiled surface as he ate.

“There’s like three people in Berkeley with mad cow disease,” Chris answered, a shocked look on his face. Ella had no idea how he kept up so much energy, and could be so consistently amazed at the world around him. It was a little exhausting, but endearing nonetheless.

She scoffed. “Good thing I couldn’t afford it, then.”

Jess nodded knowingly as he chewed.

“What?” Matthew asked.

“Oh,” Ella said casually, taking another sip of the tea. She wished it was green, but Jess would almost certainly have more questions for her, about whether she was getting a migraine, if she drank that. Already, she could see him trying to get her to stay home. And she simply couldn’t flake so close to mid-terms. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to Berkeley. Maybe because it was the farthest place I could think of. But I’d never been there. And after finally making it to California, I’d say it’s a good thing the tuition was too insane for me to handle.”

A bark of a laugh came from Chris. “Yeah, you’re too pretentious for anything but the East coast.”

“I am not,” she retorted, not even turning around to face him again. “Maybe I’m just too much of a realist for that hippie bullshit.”

“More like a stick-up-your-ass killjoy, but sure, I guess realist is another way to put it,” Chris said, with self-satisfied lilt in his tone.

“Fuck off,” she shot back lazily. Both Jess and Matthew watched on in amusement, as they had grown accustomed to doing, while she continued. “You’re just pissed you’re not deep enough to understand true art. All you can wrap your brain around is ABBA and Andy Warhol.”

“Andy Warhol was an American treasure!”

Ella finally turned around to see Chris shooting daggers at her. “Andy Warhol was a sellout! I have a whole book about him; you can borrow it!”

“Oh, well, if a book says so,” Chris mocked, feigning belief.

She laughed. “It’s too early and there’s just not enough time for me to explain to you how wrong you are. I gotta get to class. Professor Stanton wants me to go over her presentation with her before.”

Getting down off the stool, she rushed behind the counter and gave Jess a long kiss goodbye. Her feet felt heavy in her black oxfords as she went over to the door, donning her peacoat from the rusty rack and grabbing her bag.

“See you for lunch at noon?” she asked, throwing one last look at Jess.

He nodded, gave her a reassuring smile. She seemed frazzled and uneasy. “I’ll be here, Daria.”

“Just checking, James Dean.”

“Bye, Ella,” Matthew said.

Ella gave him a little wave and rolled her eyes when Chris was silent from the couch, pouting over her slight to his god, Andy Warhol. “Fuck you very much, Chris.”

He yelled an cheerful obscenity back to her as she raced out the door, the old bronze clock down in the main room of Truncheon chiming half past eight.

. . .

By lunch, her headache had progressed to a full-on migraine, but she still had one more class and office hours to attend to, so she was pressing on. The day was chilly, a faint drizzle misting her as she trudged up the sidewalk back to Truncheon. She made a note to herself to grab an umbrella before leaving again; at least it hadn’t started pouring on her walk. Her old shoulder bag was dragging on her tired frame, packed to the brim with books and papers. The green fabric was faded to almost gray, as she had been lugging the bag around since high school. But it had yet to rip or fray, and she’d added a few patches to the front at some point during college. What wasn’t broken, she didn’t intend trying to fix. Why waste the time?

She was glad to be met with the familiar smell of old books as she reentered the small publishing company. Matthew was reorganizing shelves to his preference, silent and analytical. Hanging her bag and coat on the hook by the door, she ran her hands up and down over her own arms in an attempt to warm up. The tights she wore were thin and cheap. Chris was nowhere to be seen, which Ella was almost grateful for. As much as she enjoyed the two guys, Jess was the only one she wanted in the moment. And though what she really wanted was to lean her head on his shoulder and fall asleep, an hour for lunch up in the apartment, as they had every day, would have to do.

Sluggish as she ascended the stairs, Ella felt a gnawing hunger in her stomach, but was nervous to eat. With the cramps ripping up her insides, she knew whatever she downed might just come back up. Jess was already upstairs, reading at the counter, when she opened the door to the apartment, and he looked up with a tiny smirk as she walked in.

“Hey, Daria,” he said, marking the place in his book and tossing it aside.

She shot him a weak smile of greeting and made for the fridge, scanning the various homemade leftovers and takeout boxes. Jess came up behind her, peering in over her shoulder. At his closeness and his aroma of pine, she breathed a sigh of relief and stopped what she was doing. Just having him near made her feel better instantly, knowing she would come home to him at the end of the day. A mixture of emotions welled inside her, rising up in her throat. Shutting the fridge door and spinning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and enveloped him in an embrace. His arms twined around her waist instinctively, but he let out a surprised chuckle.

“Hey.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt and when she pulled away, Jess thought he saw a fond sorrow in her eyes. She pressed a kiss to his lips.

He tilted his head at her when their lips were separated again. “What was that for?”

Ella shrugged. “No reason.”

Soon, they sat next to each other at the island with a container of cold lo mein split on two plates in front of them. Breaking the comfortable silence, Jess set his fork down and turned to her, a hesitant look on his face. He had held off telling her as long as he could stand; he could rant about it forever, but still didn’t want to say a word.

“Liz called me earlier,” he began, watching her glance up from her plate, where she pushed her food around, noncommittal.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um...she’s pregnant.” Jess ran a hand over his mouth and sighed lightly.

Her eyes perked up in surprise. “What?”

“Unfortunately, it seems TJ’s incompetence in everything else didn’t extend to his reproductive skills.”

She snorted a half-hearted laugh and trained her eyes on him carefully. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, chatty Kathy,” she said, taking a sip of her water and then facing him fully. “But, how do you feel about it?”

“Honestly, Elle?” he asked, his tone dejected. He didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Jimmy’s got a stepdaughter. Now, Liz is gonna have a new kid. It’s...I don’t know. I just hope she doesn’t binge-drink quite as much as she did with me.”

Ella furrowed her brows.

“I was five weeks early and I weighed something like four pounds. She says she doesn’t remember most of being pregnant,” Jess explained, a bitter tinge to his words.

“Jesus Christ,” Ella muttered, shaking her head slightly, not in disbelief but in simple sadness for him.

Jess shrugged dismissively. “But, hey, now she’s gonna get a second try. I’m sure the next one won’t be as much trouble as I was.”

“Hey,” she said firmly, bringing a cold hand to his cheek, stroking his skin affectionately with her thumb, “it was her fucking fault.”

“I know,” he said quietly, suddenly struck by her blunt tenderness. It filled him up, but made his insides flutter. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Alright,” she whispered, waiting a moment longer before she dropped her hand back from his face. “But if you do-”

“I know,” he repeated, light to disguise the pit in his stomach.

“Good.”

. . .

Bowie played softly on the record player and Ella sat up against the wall behind the bed. She was still in her black cotton dress, though she had let her hair down from its braid, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind her temples. A dull ache was constant in her lower stomach, occasionally tightening to a sharp burst of pain. Her breath was slow and steady, as she hoped to relax her muscles. She wrote against the thick stack of paper in her lap, only a few essays left. Maybe she could actually get a chance to sleep a sensible amount. She’d been at it since the moment she got upstairs at three in the afternoon, and her eyes were dry and hot in her skull. Rain pattered against the window on her left, the pane fogged up from the cold day.

A creak sounded in the room as the door opened, and she peeked down at her watch. It was nearly six; she hadn’t realized how much time she’d spent sitting in the same position, staring at the endless pages of Times New Roman. Jess walked in with socked feet, a crease of concern between his brows as he strode over to the bed.

“Hey, you almost done?” he asked, sitting down on the end and running his hand up and down the back of her calf.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she finished scribbling a comment on the side of a page. Then, she looked up at him with an exhausted, pale face. “Sort of. I’ve still got a few to go.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Jess asked. When their work day had ended at five-thirty, he’d come up to find her pouring over the assignments. It was clear she was concentrating hard, and he’d silently come over and placed a kiss on her forehead in greeting before leaving her to her work. The worry had not left him in the hour he’d been sitting on the couch with a Barker novel in his hands and an old sitcom on the TV. “We ordered pizza. Half mushroom.”

A smile formed on her lips, less strained than it had looked all day. Mushroom was her favorite on pizza. “Maybe in a little while. I don’t finish what I need to, and they could definitely replace me with another TA.”

Jess scoffed in disbelief at her unfounded fear. “Where else are they gonna find a Lily Briscoe nihilist who dresses like it’s 1994?”

“Same place they’d find another Kerouac wannabe who knows close-up magic tricks,” she quipped coolly, going back to her work. Her patience was wearing. No matter how much her mind was screaming for a reprieve, she simply needed to finish. Some strong fire burned within her, forcing her to be productive or suffer intense guilt.

He gasped in mock offense. “Low blow, Stevens. The magic phase was not my best, I will admit. But, it was really only to impress a certain waitress.”

“Well, when you talk to her, tell her I think she should raise her standards,” Ella replied, not looking up from the paper.

Jess sighed in frustration, taking his hand from her leg. When she got into her working zone, one he recognized well from high school, it certainly took some effort to get her out. But rarely was she quite so irritated. “You’ve barely eaten anything all day, Eleanor.”

“Didn’t realize I was under surveillance, Jess.”

Rising from the bed again, Jess rolled his eyes. “The pizza’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes. You don’t come out, and I’ll tell Chris how much you hate jazz. You’ll have to face his wrath.”

“I think I can handle him,” Ella said flatly. Still, she didn’t lift her eyes from the writing.

“You’ve been warned,” Jess chagrined, shutting the door behind him gently.

. . .

The growling of her stomach ultimately forced her out of the bed, the stack of papers left on the nightstand with the red pen neatly atop it. She decided she didn’t need anymore arguing with Chris for the day. And the hungrier she got, the worse her headache was. Searing pain radiated all the way through her brain, but she tried to quiet it the best she could. She hadn’t experienced a migraine in a long while, but remembered how to power through it. It was better to at least attempt to eat, she decided. She hated the odd dichotomy of the nauseating cramps and the intense hunger.

A smug smirk formed on Jess’s face when she opened the door, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Oh, look. Judas,” Chris said from his spot in the armchair, still offended from the morning’s Andry Warhol argument.

“Not my fault you can’t handle the truth,” she replied, going over to the fridge and grabbing a ginger ale. She didn’t know whether the ginger ale soothing stomach trick worked with period cramps, but it was worth a shot. She popped it open and took a few sips before placing it on the end table near the windows and flopping down on the weathered green couch next to Jess.

“Your stomach okay?” he asked, an eyebrow raised at her choice of drink.

She shrugged dismissively, her face wan. “I’m fine, Mariano.”

“You sure you’re not pregnant?” Chris teased, glancing at Jess. “Apparently it’s in the water.”

Jess swallowed dryly at the reference to his mother’s news. Both Matthew and Chris had overheard snippets of the phone conversation.

“Believe me, I’m not,” Ella answered, running her hand through her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder. The back of her neck was hot beneath it.

“But how could you know?” Chris continued, a mocking twinkle in his blue eyes.

As she shot him a withering stare, Ella’s lips turned up in a thin, sardonic smile. Her tone was cold and venomous. “One guess. I’m sure it’ll come to you, Einstein.”

After a moment with furrowed brows, realization crossed his features and his eyes widened. Chris blushed and said nothing more. Jess snickered at him and brought an arm around Ella, unphased.

Goosebumps rose on her skin at his touch, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. A slight sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to slacken against him, seeing the Frasier rerun playing on the grainy television across from them. Matthew sat on Jess’s other side, working on something which looked like an inventory sheet. She could certainly identify with his workaholic side. He leaned over and told her the pizza would be there any minute. Nodding, she put a hand on her anxious stomach and shut her eyes. She hadn’t felt the fatigue weighing her down fully until she gave into it, suddenly worried she could fall asleep at any moment.

Jess looked down at her, a crease of concern reappearing between his brows. Frowning, he took in her flushed face and placed his hand to her forehead. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought she seemed feverish. “You feel warm.”

“The heat’s on. Our room is stuffy. I’ve been in there a few hours. Really, cutie, I’m just tired,” she said shortly, not opening her eyes and shifting to get more comfortable. His skin was cool against hers. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she was running a slight temperature. Sleep deprivation and her period both sometimes caused a tiny fever for her separately; it would be less than a shock if together they’d had a bit of an effect.

His eyes lingered on her doubtfully, but a knock then sounded on the door. Jess dug in his pocket with a free hand to find a few crumpled bills, handing them to Matthew, who went to greet the pizza guy. In a few minutes, they were back in their respective spots with grease-splotched paper towels, holding cheap pizza. Matthew and Chris were deep in a debate about the acts to book for the following week, and were throwing around the idea of an open mic night. Jess didn’t have much to say on the matter, instead watching as Ella ventured a few bites of her slice and kept her eyes on the TV, trying to ignore his watchful gaze. Not even Luke had ever been so concerned over her well-being, insofar as whether she had something she could potentially spread to customers. Only her mother stuck out as a caregiver in her life, and of course, no time in recent memory. It was just Jess.

“You’re staring, Romeo,” she snapped after a while, realizing he wasn’t going to quit.

“Thought I was a Mercutio?” he asked through a mouthful of pizza.

Scoffing, annoyed, Ella felt the mixture of both hunger and discomfort mingling in her stomach again. “Not tonight. Remember how much Romeo stared?”

“It rings a bell. But I also haven’t read that since ninth grade English.”

“You did reading for school?” she asked doubtfully, snorting a laugh.

He nodded. “I had gold stars plastered all over my forehead.”

“Oh, yeah, I can just picture it,” she said, taking another bite, almost finished with her piece. “Romeo and Juliet sucks anyway.”

“Once again,” he said, shaking his head at her in feigned disappointment, “so blasphemous.”

“And still, you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

He shrugged. “Sad but true.”

She chuckled, about to retort in the easy way she always could, but instead there was a shift in her features. Her freckled cheeks drained completely and tinged to a slight green. Saying nothing, she put the back of a hand to her mouth and she hopped up, rushing towards the bathroom. Not running, but definitely rushing. Her movements were silent but swift as she shut the door behind her with a slam. Chris and Matthew didn’t even notice until the sound rang out in the apartment. Jess sighed heavily, going after her. Pressed up against the door, he could hear her gagging.

“Eleanor?” he asked, knocking.

Knees grounded on the blue tile of the bathroom floor, Ella found she couldn’t reply through her breathless retching, bent over the toilet bowl. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her nose began to run.

“I’m coming in,” Jess said resolutely.

Ella would’ve cursed at herself if she’d been able, realizing she had forgotten to lock the door in her race to make it to the toilet. Before she could protest, Jess took her hair in one hand and began rubbing circles on her back with the other. His touch was deliberate and gentle, and almost made her want to cry harder than she already was, her entire body radiating embarrassment.

“Fuck, Jess, get out,” she pleaded through bouts of vomiting. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that, Linda Blair,” he deadpanned, not moving from his spot.

Eventually, the swirling in her stomach stopped, and her breathing became regular again. She flushed and immediately went to the sink to splash cold water on her face, rinsing her mouth out and brushing her teeth thoroughly. Jess watched carefully from where he sat on the edge of the blue tub. She wiped her face with the hand towel and threw it back down next to the sink in frustration. Her body was strained and tired, and she sat down heavily next to him when she was finished. She brought her elbows to her knees, holding her chin in her hands.

“You okay?” Jess asked, tucking some hair behind her ear to expose her cheek. He pressed the back of his hand against it, noting how hot she still was. The puking probably hadn’t helped, though.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied lightly. “I mean I’m sorry for getting on you about not eating. I just thought you were working through meals like you used to in high school. I didn’t know you felt sick.”

“I’m not sick, Jess.”

“Eleanor, you were just puking your guts out like two minutes ago,” he said, eyebrows raised. “And I’m pretty sure you have a fever.”

Ella sighed, sniffling though the tears had stopped involuntarily streaming down her cheeks. “When I was a kid, I used to run a temperature when I didn’t sleep enough. And the whole Exorcist routine is because of my period.”

“Really? Usually, you seem like you feel okay when you’re on your period.”

She chuckled. Most of the time, they had sex every night when she was on her period. The hormones were often a pleasant experience in her case. Such bad cramps hadn’t afflicted her since before she’d started the pill at age fifteen, either. “I usually hardly even have cramps. But I got on new birth control this month and stress can also make things way worse. Sleep deprivation, too. I don’t know. The perfect storm.”

His face softened sympathetically. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re insane.”

“Oh, well how could I possibly take that the wrong way?” she quipped through slight laughter.

“You’re working so hard, you’re literally making yourself sick,” he explained. “Not that you’re gonna listen to me, but I really think you should ease up if you don’t wanna have a stroke before you’re thirty.”

Again, she sighed, straightening up and averting her gaze. “I just...if I’m working as hard as I can, I’m not worrying as much about losing my spot in the graduate program.”

“Why would you lose your spot?” he asked, his brow crinkling. Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed her off so easily before.

“I don’t know. I just worry about it. Anything’s possible,” she said.

And he could see her mind was off somewhere other than Philadelphia. It was back in Stars Hollow, on the night when her mother had died and she’d lost everything out of the blue. Pieces fell into place, and all of a sudden he understood. Why she had been staying up late and editing papers more heavily than she needed to and running herself ragged only halfway through the semester. To Eleanor, nothing was permanent, nothing could be counted on. The feeling wasn’t lost on him, considering he had a new fake daddy pretty much every year as a child, but he hadn’t even seen a semblance of stability in his life until moving to Luke’s. He remembered how different it was not having to worry about losing the apartment for unpaid rent or having all of his possessions stolen by some deadbeat his mother had inexplicably allowed into their lives. But Ella had lived in a home that had a least a decent amount of security for fourteen years before the rug was pulled out from under her. That was the difference, and it was an important one.

“Elle?”

“Hm?” She lifted her eyes, slightly glassy, up to his.

“No matter what happens with this grad school thing, or after, anything is not possible with me,” he said in earnest. “Because I was yours the first time I saw you five years ago. At this point, I can say with complete certainty that’s never gonna change.”

Breathing out a long breath through her nose, Ella couldn’t help the smile which bloomed on her face. Before, he’d said he fell in love with her that night in the gazebo. Maybe he had been holding back so he wouldn’t scare her, though the time he’d asked her to run away with him and told her he loved her hadn’t exactly been his most restrained moment. She didn’t know. And, the idea that it had actually been the minute when they’d met all those years ago in the diner was so preposterous in her realist mind, she had to tease him at least a little. “Love at first sight, huh? Time has really made you soft, Mariano. The Hemingway, too.”

“I’m serious, Stevens,” he continued, though a smirk tugged at his own lips. “And, for the record, there’s no way in hell they’re gonna kick you out of that program. They’re lucky you even accepted their offer. Please, just take a fucking sick day tomorrow. Watch Stephen King, and drink green tea, and eat peanut butter out of the jar.”

A moment passed between them, and finally she gave a slow nod. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely. And because this is the most disgusting I’ve felt since that time I drank my dad’s tequila.”

He chuckled, bringing an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Good. By tomorrow night, you’ll feel like one of the living again.”

Leaning into his side again, she was so utterly relieved. A weight she didn’t know she had been carrying lifted from within her. The nerves and the worry weren’t gone, but for the first time, perhaps ever, she truly believed Jess. She trusted him so completely it shocked her. They weren’t the same people they had been when he’d run away to California. But they still fit together exactly right. And it wasn’t going to change. She pulled away from him, placing a hand on the back of his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair affectionately.

“I love you.”

For a moment, Jess’s breath caught in his throat and he thought his heart would explode from joy. But, instead, his grin grew more genuine. “That’s nice, but I kinda figured.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “Such a jackass.”

“So I’ve heard,” he replied easily, then took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I love you too.”

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Bound To You - Chapter 6: Dead Ends

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 9,111

Overall Word Count: 43,900

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Profress (6/?)

Chapter Preview:

Dean could see just how bad of a state the guy was in; dark bruises were littered all over the man’s pale skin, multiple cuts and lacerations decorating every piece of skin Dean could see, oozing out streams of dark blood that stained the button-up shirt of the man’s suit.

‘Jesus… what the hell are they doing to the guy?’

‘That’s not a “guy”, Dean…’

‘Huh?’

‘I recognize the man… that was the last vessel I saw Atheed possessing…’

‘You telling me the Men of Letters managed to trap an angel?’

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

Dean found himself waking up the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon wafting down the hallway and into his room. It was this – and only this – that convinced Dean to haul himself out of the comfort of his warm bed and pull himself into his chair.

He had only just settled into the chair when there was a light rap of knocks on his bedroom door. He looks up to see Sam poking his head through the gap he cracked open in the door, eyes briefly scanning across the room before landing on Dean.

“Oh, good, you’re up! Thought if the smell of bacon wouldn’t get you of bed, then nothing would…”

“I’m always happy to be woken up for bacon, Sammy.”

Sam glanced at something behind the door, chuckling quietly to himself before returning his attention to Dean. “There’s someone here that’s dying to see you…”

Dean didn’t even have time to ask Sam who he was talking to before Sam opened the door a tad bit wider, giving enough room for a blur of fur to shoot into his room, claws skidding on the concrete floor as Miracle runs to him.

“Hey, girl!” Miracle was jumping excitedly at his wheelchair, desperate to get as close to Dean as possible. It didn’t even seem to faze her that Dean wasn’t quite the same as he was when he left. She just cared he was home.

‘Is… is that a dog?’

‘Yeah! This is Miracle!’

Miracle had managed to get her two front paws atop of Dean’s legs, and Dean got the jarring feeling again when he realized he couldn’t actually feel her weight on his legs. He didn’t have much time to ponder over this as Miracle had reached his face, running her slobbering tongue everywhere she can reach.

“Blegh – Good to see you too, girl.” Dean lightly pushed her away from his face, ruffling his hands along the sides of her face.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Sam said through his chuckles, backing out from the doorway and disappearing down the hallway. “Breakfasts waiting – don’t let it go cold!”

‘Oh - this was the surprise you were talking about?’

‘Yep! You don’t sound too surprised?’

‘Just… processing it. I didn’t think you were much of a dog person?’

‘Eh, not really… But ever since Colonel, they’ve earned a bit more of my respect.’

‘The… German Shephard that was a witness to murder?’

‘That’s the one. Sometimes I think about making that disgusting potion thing to talk to Miracle. I never did learn what dogs were put on Earth for…’

‘…What?’

“Uh, nothing, nevermind. So, you wanna meet her?’

‘Am I not doing that right now?’

‘Not properly! You should take control, meet her right! Give her a good scratch behind the ears.’

‘You want me to take over? You’re sure?’

‘No Cas, I’m not sure; I’m worried you’ll take control of my body forever and kill my dog. Yes I’m sure you dumbass, now get up here!’

Miracle was able to pick up the change immediately. The second the familiar green eyes of her owner turned into that dazzling blue, her furiously wagging tail came to a stop. Yet, she did not move from her position. She didn’t back away from him in fear like Castiel was expecting her to.

“Um… hello,” Castiel greeted the dog leaning on his lap awkwardly.

‘Dean, I’m worried I’m going to startle her.’

‘Why? Can she sense you’re an angel or something?’

‘Dog’s have incredible senses, far beyond what humans are capable of. It’s likely she can feel my grace inside you, perhaps even smell it.’

‘…What does grace smell like?’

‘It varies from angel to angel. The scent typically expands out to the vessel, so it’s likely you may even be able to pick up on the smell if you were close enough.’

Cas stretched out a tentative hand towards Miracle, slowly moving his hand as not to spook her. He stopped his hand right in front of her snout, to which Miracle gave him an eager sniff.

‘Huh… that’s kind of cool, actually. Is it kind of like humans, where our body odor can smell different to other people?’

‘Not entirely the same, but similar. A human’s scent is used for mating purposes, typically. If a person has a pleasant smelling odor, it’s because their immune system is vastly different to yours.’

‘And that’s good for mating because…?’

‘Because then if you were to have a child, their immune system would be the strength of both of yours combined. It’s nature’s way of increasing your offspring’s chances – of course, humans have adapted so well in most countries that infant mortality rate isn’t much of a problem anymore.’

‘Huh… you know a strange amount about humans, Cas.’

‘Well, it was my job to watch over them for millennia’s. There’s not much else to do but learn about them.’

The longer Miracle spent sniffing Cas, the faster her tail began to wag – going from a steady swing back and forth to a blurred mess of fur. Castiel wasn’t too sure why, but the sight brought a warmth to his chest and a joyful smile stretching across his face. Miracle only became more excited at the sight of his smile, trying to pull herself up even closer and bury her head into his hands for more scratches and pets.

‘Think it’s safe to say she likes you, Cas.’

Even Dean was smiling within his own mind, watching as his best friend bonds with his other best friend.

‘I like her, too. Her fur is addictingly soft.’

‘Great for cuddles.’

‘Dean Winchester cuddling a dog? I’m sorry I missed such a sight.’

‘Says the big scary angel of the lord that’s practically melting in her paws…’

‘You think I’m scary?’

‘Now? Nah, but only because I know you wouldn’t hurt me… too bad. But when I first met you? Yeah… when you showed me your wings for the first time, I was both in awe and seconds away from pissing my pants.’

‘As soldiers of God, I suppose it makes sense that we were created to have a fear invoking appearance. In fact, when he was still in Heaven, Gabriel would often regale the story of talking to the shepherds; how he had to call after then to not be afraid as they ran away…’

‘I think I’ve heard of that story before… wasn’t it in the Bible?’

‘That it was. Gabriel begged for the story to be passed onto the prophets…’

‘Sounds like Gabriel. And that sounds like my stomach growling… Let’s get this show on the road, Cas; bacon’s awaiting.’

Switching possession was still a strange feeling for Dean. It was almost like trying to squeeze past someone in a tight corridor, going from this muted and out of focus vision to a sharp and overwhelming reality.

Miracle happily trotted alongside Dean as he wheeled down the bunker’s hallways, plastering on a smile as he descends the little ramp over the stairs into the kitchen. Sam and Eileen were situated behind the kitchen counter, Eileen sipping on a fresh cup of coffee whilst Sam finished up plating a towering stack of fluffy pancakes.

“Morning!” Eileen was the first to spot him, lowering her mug back down and returning Dean’s warm smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, actually,” Dean answered honestly, wheeling himself over to the kitchen island and eying up the food goods on display; an appetizing spread of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and – the newest addition from Sam – a plate of pancakes.

“You guys make all this?” Dean was fighting himself tooth and nail not to snatch a piece of bacon for himself (and slip a piece for Miracle….)

“Yep,” Sam replied, looking proudly to the spread. “Eileen cooked up the bacon and eggs. Thought you might want some good eggs and not my rubber eggs.”

“Good call,” Dean had given in to the urge, speaking through a mouthful of perfectly crispy bacon. “Surprised you’re not serving me those egg whites only omelet and fake bacon…” Dean paused, glancing down frantically to the half piece of bacon in his hands. “Wait, unless-,”

“It’s real bacon,” Sam assured him, though rather disapprovingly as he began shoveling some eggs onto his own plate. “I’m not that cruel.”

“You did it before! Brought home that synthetic crap from the store…”

“It tastes just the same!” Sam argued over his shoulder, searching through one of the cabinets for their depleting bottle of maple syrup. “And it’s better for you.”

“It does not taste the same,” Dean grumbled in response, accepting the freshly poured cup of black coffee Eileen passed over to him. “And that’s why I don’t let you go shopping for groceries on your own anymore.”

‘Sam does raise a valid point, Dean.’

‘Oh no. Don’t you start with me too, Cas. I’m already sacrificing my whisky for you, do not ask me to give up my bacon on top of that.’

“I was starting to worry when the smell of sausages cooking didn’t rouse you from your slumber,” Sam commented, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Good thing the bacon did the job, or I’d have assumed you passed in your sleep.”

“Eh, what can I say,” Dean shrugged his shoulders, wheeling himself and his plateful of food (very carefully…) over to the kitchen table. “Getting stabbed through the back really takes it out of you. Plus, you see this face? Doesn’t stay this pretty at my age without some beauty sleep, Sammy.”

“You’re not that old,” Sam scoffed. “Besides, since when do you sleep in till noon?”

Dean nearly spat out his mouthful of coffee, frantically shoving his flannel sleeve back to check the time on his watch. Yep, just as Sam had said, his watch blinked back the numbers ’12:23’ at him in bright white lettering. “Huh… would you look at that…”

“You have a good dream you didn’t want to wake up from something?” Sam joked, having no idea how close to the truth he actually was.

“Something like that. Man… can’t remember the last time I slept that long. You know, without being knocked out or forced unconscious, or anything like that.”

“Obviously, your body needed the sleep,” Eileen commented, finishing off her last triangle of toast and placing her leftover scraps of sausages and bacon on the floor for Miracle to feast on (which she definitely didn’t leave on purpose). “Doesn’t matter how much drugs the hospital pumps you with; you’ll never have as good of a night’s sleep as you do in your own bed.”

“Amen to that,” Dean stretched out his arms in front of him, listening to the satisfying cracks and pops of his elbow and shoulder joints. “So, what’s the plan for today? Straight to the library, skim through books till we’re bored to tears?”

The happy go lucky smile on Dean’s face slowly slipped away as he saw the anxious looks Sam and Eileen were sharing. Uh oh… That was never good. That was the look of ‘we have something we need to tell you, and we know you’re not going to like it’. Dean hated that look… especially since he knows he’s been one to sport the expression for himself many times over the years.

“Uh, actually…” Sam begun, looking to Eileen for help. “Eileen actually kinda… found a case… while you were in the hospital.”

“Oh…” Dean squeaked out, the remaining few bites of pancake left on his plate no longer looking as appetizing as they did a few seconds ago.

“I wasn’t looking for one,” Eileen stressed that fact, guilt already twisting at her features. “It’s… it’s kind of been all over the news, actually.”

“Yeah, and that’s kinda the reason we’re bringing it up,” Sam added in, backing up Eileen. “From what we think we know… there’s already been seven deaths connected to this thing.”

“Jesus… seven?” Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught wind of this himself. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had been actively searching for a case these past few days…

“We did some more research into it this morning. We’re pretty sure it’s a simple salt and burn job – a day, maybe two. It’s local too, just a few towns over.” Sam told him.

“And you’re… what, asking me for permission?” Dean wheeled himself over to the sink, focusing on dropping his plates into the soapy water rather than on Sam and Eileen’s matching looks of guilt.

“No, just… wanted to let you know is all,” Sam forced the words out rather awkwardly, unsure whether to keep in place or walk over to Dean. “We, uh… we’ll be heading off in about twenty minutes. We’ve already burnt enough daylight, so…”

“Yeah, course. Sure,” Dean forced out, pushing down the bitterness that wanted to enter his tone. “Don’t want to be the one that’s holding you guys back like I have all morning, so don’t hang around for me or anything.”

“Dean-,” Sam tried, taking a single step towards him.

“It’s fine, Sammy,” Dean snapped, holding out an arm to stop Sam from getting any closer. “Seriously. You two can watch each other’s backs, so I’m not worried there. You guys need any help, then – y’know – don’t know there’s much I can do but, guess you can call me; be whatever FBI director or whoever you need to call if the local badges start asking questions.”

“Dean… you know we wouldn’t be doing this usually, but… with the hunt so local and so many people already dead…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean brushed Sam off. “Go. Really, go on the hunt. I’ll be fine here. Get some research done for once.”

“We won’t take long,” Eileen assured him. “We want to help Cas, too. We’ll be here for that, we promise.”

“Uh-huh. You guys better get going then. Don’t let me stop you,” Dean rolled away from the two of them before they could say anything, forcing himself back up the ramp and down the bunkers hallway, which never seemed as long as it does now.

Miracle, ever loyal, trudged on after him, slipping into his room before he slammed the door. Turns out that slamming the door is more difficult when in a wheelchair, having to grab hold of the edge of the door behind him and force it backward. It didn’t quite make the echoing slam the heavy wooden doors usually do, which only pissed him off more. What’s the point of slamming a door if the person you’re mad at can’t feel it shaking through their bones?

‘You not gonna say something? Tell me off for getting snappy at them or some crap like that?’

‘I thought that if I remained silent that you wouldn’t direct your anger at me. Clearly, that didn’t work. I get that you’re frustrated Dean, but it’s not fair to direct that at Sam and Eileen. They haven’t done anything wrong-,’

‘Haven’t done anything wrong!? I haven’t even been home a day and they’re already ditching me for a hunt!’

‘Are you saying you wouldn’t do the same in their place? Knowing that seven innocent people have already lost their lives?’

‘No! I mean… maybe… it’s just… I just got home. Now I’ve got to sit around here doing nothing while they’re out there working?’

‘I know you want to be out there with them, Dean; but Sam and Eileen are just doing what’s right. And I think you know this, otherwise, you wouldn’t have been provoking me into “telling you off”.’

‘Really don’t like how much of me you’ve figured out after being in my head for like, three days.’

‘Does that mean I was correct in my assumption?’

Dean sent over a slightly blurry, staticky, barely put together mental image of his middle finger over to Cas, hoping it’d ruffle some feathers.

It did.

‘No need to be rude, Dean. I think I’ll retreat for a bit while you get over your temper tantrum.’

‘Temper Tantrum? Seriously? You treating me like I’m five - is that it? That how you think you’re gonna solve things?’

Cas stayed true to his word, only silence filling the gap in his mind which Cas’s words typically took up.

‘Temper Tantrum… say’s the guy that’s giving me the silent treatment. Now that’s childish.’

Silence. Nothing but silence and his own thoughts echoing in his mind.

‘Fine. Be like that. I’ll go find my own damn work to do…’

* * *

The library never felt quite so empty and… boring. Sure, he still had Miracle, who was curled up in her memory foam dog bed that Dean had dropped a few pretty pennies on (and still hasn’t told Sam about the actual price). As great as she was for company, it turns out that dogs aren’t so skilled in the whole conversation part of companionship. Unless you count Dean talking to her in that way people talk to their dogs - which he once found annoying but would now be a hypocrite to say so.

Dean had scoured through all the book titles that seemed to allude to any information on angels and vessels – well, those on the bottom of the bookshelves anyway – and now had them neatly stacked on the table in front of him. Sam and Eileen had long since left the bunker, wisely choosing not to say goodbye – or anything for that matter – disappearing into the garage and leaving him here. The hours had ticked by way too slow, the words on the page in front of him starting to blur together and become an incomprehensible mess. He had re-read this particular passage on the comparisons of the limited real-life encounters with angels to their bible counterparts about five times now, but his brain was stubbornly refusing to take any of that information in.

Dean slammed the thick-binded cover closed, choking back a cough when it kicked up a mini mushroom cloud of dust, sliding the book across the table away from him. It was all starting to feel pointless. He knew that angels were pretty elusive creatures in the supernatural world, but he had no idea it was by this much. Damn near every book on angels, or any mention of angels in any creature encyclopedia he’s scanned through all seem to have the same message of “we’re talking out of our ass here”. All these books were nothing more than guesses based on other supernatural creatures. And sure, yeah, they got some of those guesses right from the limited knowledge of angels he’s got from Cas, but there was no guarantee on any of the info. What if they find something that can bring Cas’s body back, but it’s another hypothesis? What if it goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work at all? What if messes Cas up on the transfer, especially if they need to use all of Cas’s grace for it to work, and-

‘You’re panicking.’

Dean startled in his chair, Cas’s voice joining the spiraling thoughts in his mind for the first time in a good few hours.

‘What?’

‘Your heart rate has increased to a hundred and five beats per minute and you started screaming in your head again.’

‘Oh, and so you decided to take pity on me and stop the silent treatment?’

‘I decided it was best to interrupt your incoming anxiety attack before you put too much strain on your healing body. And it seems to have worked, considering you’re converting your worries into pettiness and directing it at me once again.’

‘I get it, Cas. I’m being a dick. That what you wanted to hear?’

‘I was hoping for an apology, but I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get.’

‘Damn straight it is. Now, you gonna help me here for what?’

‘Help you how?’

Dean pulled the next book out from the top of the stack, thumping it down on the table and flipping it open to the first page. ‘You can put your special angel eyes to use and help me find something of use in here.’

‘My… special angel eyes?’

‘Yeah. What, you telling me an angel's eyesight is the same as a human’s? That the high and mighty angels of the Lord were cursed with the same pathetic eyes as the mud monkeys-,’

‘Dean, you know full well I do not look down on humans like my other brothers and sisters occasionally do.’

‘I know, Cas. Was making a joke. I’m just saying, could use a second pair of eyes as I read through this. Point out anything I might miss. Which I will. A lot.’

‘I’ll try my best.’

Another two hours passed in companionable silence, the only sounds in the library being Miracle’s snuffled snores and the occasional flip of the ancient and fragile papers under Dean’s fingers. Cas hadn’t said or anything to him in that time – or pointed out something that Dean had skipped over – which only made Dean feel all that more disheartened about this whole ‘creating a body’ idea. He hadn’t really considered the possibility that the idea might not be possible… He had just assumed he’d find something about it in one of the Men of Letter’s countless collection of books and that eventually, it would lead them to somewhere.

‘Dean… what’s that?’

‘What’s what?’

‘At the end of the table. Where you scratched your names into the table. Is that…?’

‘Oh, right. Didn’t show you…’ Dean wheeled himself over to the end of the table, the beginnings of a smile on his face as he looked down at the names crudely carved into the wood. ‘After we came home, we, uh… added you and Jack to the table. Bunker felt damn quiet and I, uh… It’s stupid, but I went back into the dungeon. Thought maybe… I dunno, maybe you’d still be there. You weren’t of course, and… next time I saw the table, I realized we should have added you long ago. Should have had the opportunity to carve your name yourself, but… yeah…’

‘Oh…’

‘You’re… okay with this, right? I’d ask Jack too but, y’know…’

‘I’m more than okay with it, Dean.’

‘You good, man? You kind of sound like you’re about to cry. You’re… not about to cry, are you?’

‘No…’

‘That didn’t sound very convincing.’

‘Didn’t sound very convincing to myself, either. Dean, do you… do you mind if I take over for just a moment?’

‘Uh… sure, Cas. Go ahead.’

Castiel pushed himself into the front of Dean’s mind, waiting for his grace to settle into full possession. He pulled himself closer to the table, reaching out with Dean’s hand and placing it down on the carvings. As gently as possible, he traced the letters of his name with his finger, ignoring the sharp bite of the rugged edges. His name. It was his name that Dean had taken the time to painstakingly carve into the table, both his and Jack’s resting alongside the Winchesters like they were always there.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to add your name sooner.’

‘I never expected you to. Which is why, perhaps, this is… affecting me more than I thought it would.’

‘Yeah… one of the things that made me realize how crappy I can treat you sometimes, Cas. Hell, you should have demanded to have had your name added here.’

‘I would never demand such a thing, Dean. This is… a very personal decision that only you or Sam could have decided, and I… truth be told, I don’t have the words to say how much this means to me.’

‘I don’t think you need words when you’re making my eyes cry, Cas.’

‘Oh, sorry – I’m still not used to your body…’

Castiel raised a hand to his eyes, finding that Dean was telling the truth when he wiped away the tears that were moments away from spilling over. He gave one last look to the names on the table, one last touch to the aged wood before handing Dean’s body back to himself.

‘Guess we better get back to researching… good old research…’ Dean held back a groan as he wheeled back over to the seemingly never-ending pile of books stacked on the table.

‘Probably for the best, yes. Actually, I was thinking before… I wonder if any of these study pieces are by Lilly?’

Dean closed the cover to the third book they had been smimming through, pushing it over to the ‘completed’ pile at the other end of the table. ‘Who’s Lilly?’

‘Lilly Sunder. You don’t remember her?’

‘Oh. Course I remember her. Huh, I didn’t consider it… She did say she had studied angels, didn’t she?’

‘Devoted her life to us. Both in scientific curiosity and… for revenge. I know her studies were from a long time ago, but it’s a possibility that her work could have ended up here. Perhaps under a different pen name, though.’

‘Why would she use a different pen name?’

‘Lilly was working on her studies back in the turn of the nineteenth century. The world wasn’t exactly accepting of women who were interested in the scientific field – especially when that involved mixing science with religious aspects. Trying to theoretically dissect a biblical creature back then… even a man in that field would receive quite the backlash.’

‘Right… Wow, humans suck, huh?’

‘You have your moments of beauty, just as you can have moments of cruelty. I like to think that you’re still maturing as a species. Someday, there will be nothing left but beauty.’

‘Very poetic, Cas.’

Dean couldn’t muster enough energy to pull another book towards him, rubbing at his tired eyes with a frustrated groan. He leaned back in his chair, glancing around at the books on shelves that surrounded him. “All the knowledge in the friggen’ world… but nothing of use.”

‘We don’t know that for sure.’

‘Doubt we have enough time left to comb through every book here, Cas.’

That gave Dean an idea. He perked up in the chair, swiveling his head towards the file cabinets that lined the back of the room. ‘Maybe it’s not in the books… maybe the Men of Letters did some research themselves? There could be something in their files!’

‘It’s a possibility. Though, I do not know of any angels that were in contact with the Men of Letters during the time period they worked in.’

Dean wheeled over to the first cabinet on the left, guessing that anything to do with angels would be stored under the ‘A’ section. ‘You say that like you were aware of every angel's movements.’

‘Not myself, but… As I’ve said before, angels rarely visited Earth before the start of the apocalypse. Only specific cases that were deemed necessary for intervention by those higher up.’

Dean’s finger stilled at the file he had reached, feeling a kick of hope burst in his chest at the title: ‘Angel Exorcism – Exorcising An Angel Whilst Leaving The Vessel Intact.’

‘Cas? You heard of something like this?’

‘An angel exorcism? Other than the relic you used on Lucifer whilst he was possessing your president… Typically, the only way to ‘expel’ an angel is for the vessel themselves to revoke their permission.’

‘You think it’s possible?’

‘I don’t see why not. If humans have found a way to place such magic into a relic… it’s a possibility.’

The file – though, it was more of a folder – was made from thick parchment paper and had been written up by a typewriter. Much to Dean’s excitement, within the folder was a reel of film that was labeled with the same title as the file.

‘Dean… I don’t see what this has to do with recreating a vessel.’

‘I’m just counting our blessings that there’s something angel related in these cabinets. And there’s talks about the vessel here, too. It’s worth a watch at least, right?’

A few minutes later (and a near tip over on a ramp that Dean would rather not mention), they found themselves in the projector room. Dean pulled out the old reel stored within the projector, feeling a fresh wave of sadness wash over him when he recognized it as the tape of Mr’s Butters that Jack had found. Dwelling on those feelings never led to anything good, so Dean hurriedly shoved the other reel into the projector slot and pressing the play button before any more thoughts of Jack begin to settle into his mind.

A grainy mess of greys and whites sparked to life on the screen, frames flickering past until the image of a man in a sharply dressed man came into view. Ah, seemed it was their favorite Men of Letters, Sinclair… Dean could recognize the room as their dungeon room, the sigils painted on the ground looking freshly painted. Behind Sinclair, just out of view, sat a battered-looking man in a chair. His hands were bound in a familiar-looking pair of silver cuffs, head slumped down in apparent unconsciousness. Next to the chair was a wheeled table, a silver tray sat atop bearing tools that Dean couldn’t quite identify yet.

“Experiment Number two-zero-seven for the Men of Letters Archive. This experiment is led by me, Mr. Cuthbert Sinclair. And my assistant behind the camera is one of our new initiates of The Men of Letters, Mr. Henry Winchester.”

‘Henry Winchester… your grandfather?’

‘Yeah… On dad’s side. I didn’t really think about how much he did in the Men Of Letters; I just knew he died after Abaddon possessed that other chick that joined the same time he did.’

“Now what we have here… is a rare occasion. The second I’ve seen. Most of humanity believes angels to be God’s messengers… there to pass on the good Lord’s words to those that are meant to hear it. Some believe them to be God’s minions, there to dish out miracles when God is… unavailable. Neither of these are true. Angels are soldiers, created to carry out God’s dirty work… And if one ever decides to bless you with their presence? Well, I’m afraid to say that a miracle is the farthest thing that will happen to you…”

Sinclair turned away from the camera, which followed him as he stepped up the side of the man still slumped over in the chair. He had come more into focus now, and Dean could see just how bad of a state the guy was in; dark bruises were littered all over the man’s pale skin, multiple cuts and lacerations decorating every piece of skin Dean could see, oozing out streams of dark blood that stained the button-up shirt of the man’s suit.

‘Jesus… what the hell are they doing to the guy?’

‘That’s not a “guy”, Dean…’

‘Huh?’

‘I recognize the man… that was the last vessel I saw Atheed possessing…’

‘You telling me the Men of Letters managed to trap an angel?’

‘It seems so…’

‘You know this angel?’

‘Not too well… We had occasionally crossed paths I suppose, but… I wouldn’t say I “know” him, no. Atheed’s garrison had been dispatched to survey a particularly troublesome band of demons who had managed to fatally wound one of us… the demons were dispatched with, but Atheed never returned. It was assumed he fell in battle, but… now that seems not the case.’

“Now, our inhabitant here hasn’t been particularly talkative… Some of the hunters under our employment were working on a typical demon case when it seems our winged foes here took a particular interest… One was left severely injured once the dust had cleared, and our hunters thought it best to bring him here for help.” Sinclair clicked his mouth and shook his head in disappointment, using his index finger to lift up the angel's chin. “A shame most will never know the true evil of these creatures… these beings with unfathomable power we foolishly believe to be our side…”

Sinclair let the angel's chin drop back down to his chest, turning his face back to the camera and flashing a smile. “See, here’s the thing – best thing we can do for most is to take this here-,” Sinclair gestured to the tray next to him, pointing directly to the angel blade – which likely belonged to the angel in question. “-And rid the world of one of these things… but in doing so, we create waste; somewhere hidden in there, crushed by the weight of this creature, is a human being. A devout believer tricked by this angel’s silver tongue. Some may say that they already sealed their fate when they agreed to possession… but as I said, angels can be very persuasive. Why should this innocent man have his life cut short? Why isn’t there a way to remove the angel, but keep the man inside alive? Today, we’re going to try just that with a little theory of mine.”

Much to Dean’s confusion, Sinclair then proceeded to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt. Then, Dean caught sight of the thin silver chain wrapped around his neck, leading down to a small glass vial that Sinclair lifted up to the camera. The vial contained a bright liquid-like substance, it’s color hidden by the black and white footage. Not that Dean needed to see the color; he already had a feeling he knew what that swirling mixture inside the bottle was…

‘It’s… it’s grace. Atheed’s grace.’

“The last time we had access to an angel, we were able to perform another experiment; finding a way to extract an angel of their grace to see the effects it had on the angel, and to see what uses the grace can provide outside its host. I have repeated the same procedure here, but this time I have not extracted all the grace. You see, when we first performed the procedure, we expected for the removal of the grace to also remove the angel. Not so, unfortunately. It simply stripped the angel of their power, leaving them mortal… taking over control from the vessel. So this time, our angel here still has some of his grace left, but not much. Barely enough to keep himself an angel.”

Sinclair dropped his hand away from the vial, now reaching for a small box contraption sat atop the tray. He picked it up, thumb hovering over a plastic window which encased a big red button that gave Dean some serious villain type vibes.

“For our next step, we will be moving our angel outside the bunker. If things go right, there shouldn’t be a mess to clean up, but for safety sake, this is best done outside.”

Just as Sinclair had said, the footage shifted from grainy footage of the bunker interior to a shot of the forest outside the bunker. Atheed was still sat in the same chair, handcuffs still secured around his wrists, but now he seemed to be regaining consciousness. He was clearly out of it, eyes half-lidded as he blearily took in his surroundings, barely having enough strength to lift his head up from his chest. As usual, Sinclair was stood next to him, though this time a few steps away. The contraption was still sat snugly in his hand, that infuriating smile remaining plastered on his face. Strangely, Dean could see a few wires extending out from Atheed’s body, trailing down from his chest to the ground, connected to the contraption in Sinclair’s hand.

“Not only will we be removing the angel… but my hope is we are also able to kill the angel. The amount of Grace it has left is dangerously low – not enough to survive a transfer to another vessel. And these cuffs here are helping to dampen that even more… Otherwise, our angel here would have fled long ago. The only thing keeping this angel alive, to exists in this plane… is the vessel he resides in. So, it goes to say that it would be in his best interest to keep the vessel alive, wouldn’t it?”

Sinclair flashed one last smile at the camera, gesturing for the cameraman his grandpa to step back. Henry did as he was told, walking backward from Atheed as Sinclair followed him at a leisurely pace. The camera panned around to reveal a makeshift cover of sorts, a few sandbags hastily put together in the form of a wall, just enough space for two men. Henry settled behind the sandbags, camera pointed towards Atheed as Sinclair took his place behind the cover next to Henry.

“Our angel has had some… minor surgery beforehand. That is to say, we’ve stuffed him with a few pieces of explosives. Small pieces of dynamite. We left an opening for the wires to be connected to the detonator in my hand.”

‘They’re… they’re insane. They’re just going to blow this guy up?’

‘I… I feel sick. I’m not sure if I can watch this…’

“This is a risky theory, but… it’s the best we got. We need to put the vessel through some serious damage. So damaged that the angel will be forced to intervene. In its last-ditch effort, the angel will use what’s remaining of its grace to heal the vessel. But in doing so… it will have burnt through all that remains of its grace. We are left with the human, fully healed and soul still intact, whilst the angel… has been burnt out from the body. Dead. That is the theory, anyway. All that’s left now… is to see if my theory rings true.”

If Dean wasn’t so desperate for answers, he would have shut this torture porn off long ago. Instead, he – and in turn, Cas – were forced to watch the horrific event unfold. Sinclair flipped the little plastic covering of the detonator up, pressing his thumb into the big red button as casually as one would call an elevator. What was once Atheed disappeared in a spray of meaty chunks within a fine mist, the chair underneath reduced to a pile of singed timber, half of it thrown across the forest by the blast. As disgusting as it all was, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the carnage. He was waiting to see those chunks of flesh on the floor start to connect back together, the spray of blood on the floor to collect and go back to its rightful body.

That didn’t happen. For a good ten seconds they could only stare at the stain on the floor that moments ago was a human being and an angel, four observers spanning across two centuries watching as an experiment fails quite spectacularly.

“Damn!” Sinclair exclaimed, tossing the detonator in his hands to the floor. “Experiment number two-zero-seven… has failed. Both the angel and human in our possession have been terminated… General conclusion seems to be that the angel did not have enough grace left to heal its vessel… Perhaps, if we’re given the opportunity again, we can repeat the experiment – but reduce the amount of grace we take from the angel…”

The frames begun to flicker, left on Sinclair’s pondering expression as the tape began to wheel down to nothing, the projector shutting off and plunging Dean into darkness. He had yet to say anything, nor had Cas. He could only stare vacantly at the blank projector screen, hoping that the image of that angel being blown into little pieces would eventually disappear from his vision.

‘Cas… you okay?’

‘No. That’s – what they did-,’

‘Yeah… I know…’

‘I know that the relationship between humans and angels have been complicated at best, but… to think the Men of Letters were capable of doing such a thing… To see us as nothing more than an ‘experiment’, it’s…’

‘It’s messed up. After all that, we’re no step closer to finding anything that’ll help you. I really thought there would be something in there, and… Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about how my Grandpa had a part to play in it… I guess they saw angels as… monsters. A threat to humanity.’

‘Our mission was to watch over humanity… We lost sight of that somewhere along the way. Now, though… I’m hoping things will change under Jack’s rule.’

‘You think he’ll make more angels?’

‘It’s a possibility. He has the power for it, even before he absorbed Chuck’s and Amara’s power. It would certainly help to stabilize Heaven, reducing the chance of the souls there being cast out and locking out those that are supposed to ascend.’

‘If only we knew what the kid was doing… would be nice if he dropped in every now and then, you know? A phone call maybe.’

‘…Huh…’

‘Huh? What’s “huh” supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing really, just… for a moment there, you sounded like a stereotypical grumpy father.’

‘Yeah? Well, we have a friggen’ God as our kid – you expect me not to be a little grumpy that he up and vanished on us? Are you not kinda pissed too, Cas? I mean – you died. And he didn’t do anything about it. Not even when you came back.’

‘I’m not going to say I understand why he hasn’t intervened in everything that’s happened since, but mostly… I miss him.’

‘I miss him too, Cas. I’m still pissed, but… I don’t know, maybe it’s more disappointment than anything. I thought – hoped, really – that once we dealt with Chuck we would all have a bit of a break. Chill in the bunker for a bit or, hell, maybe we’d finally take that beach vacation. Jack would probably go all giddy over the concept of sand-castles…’

‘That sounds nice… I think Jack would have loved that.’

‘It’s easy to forget he’s only what, three? Maybe four? Our new God is the son of Satan who is four years old… that’s not a recipe for disaster or anything, right?’

‘He hasn’t gone crazy with his newfound power and tried to bend everyone to his will yet, so he’s doing marginally better than I was.’

‘That’s… one way to look at it. And you were, what, a sprightly couple of billion years old?’

‘Not sure. I stopped counting somewhere after the eight billionth birthday.’

‘Well, if it makes you feel better Cas – you look damn good for your age.’

* * *

It was rare for Dean to have a good dream.

This was something Castiel had learned over the years. Even though Dean would often voice his displeasure at him about watching over him as he slept, Cas would continue to keep an eye on his slumbering form. Occasionally, he would look into Dean’s mind to see what dream was playing out. If it was a nightmare, he would simply place his hand on Dean’s shoulder and ebb a little bit of grace through him, flushing out the nightmare from his system. It was the least he could do, and Dean always seemed to be that extra bit more rested when he did it – so he never really stopped.

That was until he lost his wings and the boys moved into the Men of Letter’s bunker. It was easier before when he could just fly over to whichever sleazy, rundown motel they had stopped in for the night and keep himself hidden while he watched over Dean. He knew that there was nowhere safer for Dean to sleep than in the sigil covered bunker, and yet… that urge to watch over him always remained.

Nightmares were a common occasion for Dean. That was to be expected of course, with all the unimaginable horrors he’s been through in his short forty-one years on Earth. Now that Castiel was residing within his head, he could finally brush away Dean’s nightmares whenever he stepped into them.

This nightmare, however…

It had caught him off guard. It had felt as if he had woken up to the nightmare himself. At first glance, he was certain he had entered Dean’s memories of Hell. The heat was unbearable, stifling him of any air. The room he was in was packed with smoke, filling his lungs and making it near impossible to breathe. Flames licked down the walls, the ceiling above him ablaze with red-hot flames. There, in the center of the ceiling, were the charred remains of who Castiel was certain to be Mary Winchester. Even though she was nothing more than a burnt corpse, she still screamed in agony, the sound piercing as it echoed around the room.

This dream… it wasn’t acting out like the actual horrific event had. At this point, John Winchester should have already been in the room. He should have been there to witness his wife pinned to the roof; stomach ripped open as the flames erupt. Dean should have run into the burning room, should have had his baby brother placed into his arms and commanded to “Get your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean - Go!” from his father.

Instead, Castiel stood frozen at the sight of Dean, four-year-old Dean leaning over the white crib, its paint peeling from the intense heat as Dean tries desperately to reach for baby Sam within. The sounds of young Dean’s panicked cries as he reached for his screaming brother were overwhelming and heart-breaking, but it was what Castiel needed for his mind to kick into gear.

What he should have done was force the nightmare to disappear. Except, he wasn’t really thinking. More… he was acting on instinct. He had rushed forward, using his arms to shield himself from the embers that danced in the air as he raced towards the crib. Within seconds he had plucked baby Sam from the crib, holding him close to his chest as he wrapped his other arm around Dean, hauling him up and tucking him into his side.

Castiel could feel the burning heat behind him as he ran, pieces of the ceiling collapsing as the fire raged on. His lungs burned with every inhale of smoke, each breath resulting in a choking, spluttering cough that left him gasping for air that wasn’t there. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, matching his rapid steps down the damaged and soot-covered staircase. He very nearly ran into the closed front door, bracing himself before bringing up a leg and slamming it into the weak spot next to the lock. The door flung open from the force, the doorframe splintering and sending shards of wood flying. Cas ran through the front door and into the front yard without looking back, keeping his hold on Sam and Dean tight.

The first few breaths of fresh air were wonderful, and he would have collapsed to his knees and sucked in as much as he could if it weren’t for the two children he held in his arms. Little Sam was still wailing in his arms, struggling against the hold of a man who, technically, was a stranger to him at the time. Dean had since gone quiet, trembling in Cas’s arms as the two of them watched what was once Dean’s home burn.

“It's okay...” Castiel whispered to the two boys in his arms, lowering himself down into the damp November dew-covered grass and watching as the roof of the house collapses in on itself. “You're okay, now. I have you.”

“Is Sammy okay?” Deans' first question came in the form of a frightened child’s broken, trembling voice. A boy that was trying to be brave - even in the face of absolute horror.

“Sammy's fine. He’s a little shaken up, but he’s okay.” Cas lowered his arm down to Dean’s level, who immediately peered over the crook of Cas's elbow to keep a watchful eye on his baby brother.

“Thank you, Cas.”

Cas's eyebrows shot up at the mention of his name. "You know who I am?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his eyes still glued onto Sam. “You’re my angel. Mommy says you watch over me.”

“I... I suppose I am your angel, yes. Your mommy’s right – I do watch over you. Well, big you, anyway.”

“I know,” Little Dean asserted, reaching out to trail gentle fingers down his little brother’s face, the soothing touch quietening the young boy's wails nearly instantaneously. “Big me say’s you’re my bestest friend in the whole world.”

Despite the horrific situation that was currently playing out in Dean’s subconscious mind, Castiel couldn’t help but let a small smile curl at his lips. “In the whole world, huh? Wow, that’s quite the honor.”

“Big me doesn’t have many friends,” Little Dean continued, the words dampening Cas’ smile just a bit. “Anyone he tries to get close to seem to… go away. Kind of like mommy and daddy did.”

Castiel tightened his hold on Dean a little bit more. “Yes… you’ve been through a lot – the both of you.”

“I have lots of friends at school!” Little Dean’s voice brightened considerably. “It’s not big school yet, mummy calls it kin… kinder…”

“Kindergarten?”

“Yeah! I started not long ago, and my friends are really fun! But… do you think I can keep going to kindergarten now?”

It pained Castiel to see those hopeful young eyes peering up at him, looking to him as if he held all the answers. The real Dean – at least, the Dean he knows today - is there inside this young child’s mind. That Dean knows what comes of this day, of what is waiting for him; and yet, to tell this innocent child the truth… it seems unfathomably cruel to do so.

“I, um… I think that might not happen, Dean.”

Dean’s hopeful gaze slipped, dropping his head back down to look to Sam. “Yeah… I don’t think so either…”

“You will get through this, Dean. Both you and Sam – you’ll grow up into the two most important men on this Earth. Not only will you save the world, but the entire Universe – and all the other Universe’s to ever have been created.”

“We will? Me and Sammy?”

“You will.”

“But… Sammy’s so tiny.”

Castiel chuckled quietly, looking down to the baby in his arms that was barely heavier than a bag of flour, eyelids drooping shut as he began to feel comfortable in Castiel’s hold. “He is right now, yes. He’ll grow to be taller than you, though.”

“What!? That’s no fair! I’m the big brother! I should be biggest!” Dean pushed out his bottom lip into a pout, looking from Sam to Cas with big, wet eyes that Cas is sure got Mary to cave into Dean’s demands once or twice.

“If it helps - even though he’s taller - Sam still looks up to you. No matter what.” Castiel assured him.

The pout disappeared just like that, the first smile he’s seen from young Dean this night appearing on his face. “He does?”

“Of course he does. It’s what you two do; always looking out for each other.”

“And you!” Dean insisted, leaving no room for argument. “Big Dean and Big Sam look out for you too, like you watch over us!”

“Yes, you do,” Castiel agreed gently. “You always do.”

The last of the flames were dying out now. The house was left as a pile of blackened wood, the bare-bone frames of it barely standing after the damage. Smoke billowed up from the remains, blocking out most of the clear night above them. It was almost beautiful; the last of the dying embers glowing softly amidst the pile of soot and rubble – like an abnormally large bonfire.

“Cas?”

Castiel tore his gaze away from what was once the Winchester’s family’s house, eyes landing on Dean’s searching stare. “Yes, Dean?

Little Dean glanced away from a moment, watching baby Sam’s peaceful sleeping face before risking another glance up to Cas. “Can… Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course, Dean. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Little Dean paused, looking to him for a moment before scrambling up to his feet, leaning closer to Cas and cupping his small hands around Cas’s ears, whispering, “Big Dean is really, really scared.”

“He is?” Castiel asked, just about able to see Dean’s head furiously nodding up and down out of the corner of his eye. “What is he scared of?”

“That he’s going to lose you again.”

Dean had whispered it no louder than his last statement, yet he might as well have yelled it for how hard the words punched him in the gut.

Dean was stood by his side now, bracing himself against Cas’s shoulders as he waited patiently for Castiel to speak. It was jarring, seeing Dean like this. He was so used to Dean being the taller one than him - and now, even standing, Dean just barely reached his chin whilst he was kneeling down.

“Can I tell you a secret too?” Castiel asked, keeping his voice as hushed as Dean was. Dean eagerly nodded his head, eyes wide as saucers as he waited for Cas to spill his secrets. “I’m scared of losing you, too. And it never goes away. That’s what happens when you love someone.”

“Big Dean doesn’t like feeling scared.”

“Oh, I know he doesn’t. Could you do me a favor, then? I need you to tell Big Dean that I’m not going anywhere. As long as he wants me here, I’m not leaving.”

“You can’t promise that,” Dean said, much to Cas’s surprise. “Sometimes people don’t get to choose when they leave. If he could, Big Dean would keep you in his head forever, coz’ at least then he can protect you better.”

“I thought I was the one that was supposed to be protecting you?”

“You do. But Big Dean wants to protect everyone.”

Castiel sighed, looking up to the surroundings beyond the remains of the house. The stars were disappearing from the sky, the black of night spilling out and claiming everything else. Soon, everything around them would be nothing but an endless blackness.

Dean was waking up.

“Yes, he does... even when doing so risks himself...” Castiel noted, preparing himself to be ripped from this dream and into Dean's groggy, wakening consciousness mind.

“You're different, though,” Little Dean added, his voice fading away with the rest of the dream. “And that's why bigger me is so scared. You're something different to him – and he's too scared to find out what that kind of different is.”

#destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fix it #fix it #fix it fic #castiel/dean winchester #dean winchester/castiel #cas/dean #dean/cas #casdean #supernatural spoilers #season 15 spoilers #fluff #angst

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canyouhearthelight · 6 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 27

A little tension in this chapter, but then again, given what’s going on, everyone is tense.

I have the story written through Chapter 36, after which I will start working in the new characters that were announced last night. I think, once we get through the next 3 chapters or so, that you’ll agree there is some need for them....

My conversation with Xiomara regarding Maverick’s eating habits – or lack thereof – was more exhausting than expected. Having never spent much of her life around anyone who was not neurotypical, her method of ‘handling’ us was essentially to foist us off on any willing person and trusting them to keep it out of her sight. On the opposite side of that, I had grown up the most neurotypical person in my family, and made an entire career out of getting the best results possible out of people who spent their entire lives being told they were less. After about five minutes, I started to worry my teeth were going to break from grinding them together so hard.

“Xiomara,” I growled. “You can’t just expect someone else to work with anyone you don’t understand. You get better results out of your people when you acknowledge your differences and leverage their strengths. That also means that you have to watch out for their weaknesses.”

She scoffed. “You don’t even use that word. Don’t you mean ‘opportunities for improvement’?” she asked snarkily.

“This isn’t a skillset he can work on, Xio! It makes absolute perfect sense in his mind to go days without food rather than asking for something he actually will eat!”

“He was in the military,” she ground out. “He’s had to just eat what was given to him before.”

“Yeah, he was,” I cried, exasperated. “I got his service medical records from Grey. Maverick was hospitalized fourteen times for malnutrition before he was given geriatric vitamins. His weight was dangerously low at nearly every medical appointment before he learned to essentially bloat himself with liquids before physicals so he wouldn’t be force-fed anymore. He could have killed himself with hyponatremia!” I held up a hand and took a few deep breaths to calm down. “Look, all I am asking is that you do not allow him to fly until he has Antoine Costa, Grey Hodenson, or myself confirm he has consumed the amount of calories he is going to be prescribed. That’s it!”

“Maverick is a grown man, and you want me to require a doctor’s note to let him do his job!? This is too much, even for you, Sophia,” she sighed. “He’s pretty much the only pilot we have who can maneuver the ship. We need him.”

I wracked my brain trying to figure out how to get through to her. “How many times have you ended a meeting in the middle of a sentence and sent me to my quarters with an escort because you knew I would keep working if you didn’t?”

“That’s different, you passed out. Twice. Right in my office.”

“Exactly. ‘You take care of everyone but yourself.’ That’s what you said, right?” She looked away, embarrassed. “And don’t think I don’t know that Tyche isn’t the only one siccing Zach on me with food six times a day. This is the same thing, just more serious. Maverick legitimately doesn’t know that it isn’t normal to go days or weeks without eating anything but vitamins and protein shakes. His entire life has been that way, because people refuse to understand him and try to make him into someone he isn’t. I don’t understand why you are being so stubborn about this! Honestly!”

“And I don’t understand why you are coddling a grown man who is a picky eater!”

Click. There it was.

“You think he’s just being a picky eater? Seriously?” I asked, struggling not to laugh. “Cheese and rice, Xiomara. Didn’t you hear him when I got in his face over how he talked about Derek? He’s autistic, Xio. Well, sorta. He has Asperger’s. This isn’t him being a ‘picky eater’, this is his soul trying to eject itself into another dimension because something is ‘wrong’. I’m going to make sure we have foods he can eat, you literally just have to tell him either ‘no’ or send him to get one of us to confirm he actually ate. That’s all.”

“Fine,” she relented, hands up. “I’ll enforce this, but I still don’t agree with it. However, you and Grey apparently think this is a major deal, at least if he’s being given a prescription to eat, so I’m going to defer to you two.”

“All I ask,” I confirmed placatingly. “When does he need to be here for relocation to Meenie?”

“Preferably within the hour, so we can get everything re-calibrated if we need to.”

“I’ll make sure he’s here, I promise. Antoine already went to get soup, since Maverick hasn’t eaten in at least the time we’ve been on this level. Since we had to scrap the food that was already here, Noah is going to pick up dinner early and test everything before we’re allowed to eat anything, so the migraines should stop and we can have coffee.” I wiggled my bottle of water at her in an attempt to change the subject to something less charged.

“Whoever did this was clever, I give them that,” she stretched her neck and huffed. “If the only two people who weren’t affected are also the only two who have documented reasons not to eat anything, that means they’re just as looped up as the rest of us.”

I nodded in agreement. “Harder to find the person drugging everyone if they look like a victim, too. It makes sense. That, and messing around with the sensors in such a major way: the corridors leading to the storage room from every possible direction, damaging the spare parts… do we think the same person damaged the ones already in place, too?”

She shrugged. “It’s possible. I’ve discussed the likelihood with Noah, and they say it may be the case. We have some information that I don’t feel comfortable discussing up here.” She looked meaningfully around the room, able to see nearly every single person present from where she stood.

I glanced around before shrugging and agreeing. “Okay, let me go find Arantxa so I can show her how to choose a menu. Apparently she feels she has done a poor job the last few days.”

“That was her?” Xiomara shuddered playfully, earlier hostility completely gone. “Help us, Sophie-Wan Kenobi, you’re our only hope.”

I threw my hands up. “Ugh! It wasn’t that bad!”

“Everything that comes from the consoles is vegetarian, Sophia, because all the proteins are synthetic. Yesterday was entirely unnecessary.”

“I never said it wasn’t, just that it could have been worse, okay?”

“If it had been worse, I would make her a suspect because clearly she would be trying to kill us,” Xiomara joked. I laughed before waving her off and heading back to the table that had been unofficially designated as being reserved for my staff and family. Arantxa was staring at her data screen, while Antoine and Tyche were encouraging Maverick to eat slowly and not drink straight from the bowl. Surprisingly, Derek had a bowl of miso soup in front of him, but with no tofu, which was explained when I noticed an awful lot of tofu in Maverick’s.

“You must really like tofu,” I joked at the pilot as I sat down.

He just shrugged. “I don’t mind it, but Derek apparently hates it, so I scooped all his into mine.”

I glanced at my sister, who just shook her head. “Maverick offered him some, and the second Derek wrinkled his nose, hot shot over there just went ‘Whoops, tofu’s squishy’, fished it all out, then handed it back and assured him the rest is broth. He seems to like it okay.”

<It’s okay,> Derek confirmed. <I like how it feels. Warm and smooth.>

Huh. Cool, another food Derek liked. “We can definitely have miso soup brought in more often, it’s a pretty popular food if I remember correctly.”

“It’s for breakfast,” I barely heard Maverick whisper. “Dad always had it for breakfast, but Auntie wouldn’t let me have any until I ate my rice and natto.” He started to tremble as tears rolled down his face. “I don’t like natto,” he gulped.

As smoothly as possible so I wouldn’t startle him, I stood up and circled around the table. “Hey,” I said softly, brushing the tears from his face. “I think the soup is salty enough, Maverick. You don’t want to add any more.” He sniffed and nodded his head, but tears kept coming. “Besides, I’ve tried natto, and I don’t blame you. It smells bad, the texture is gross, and it tastes like coffee with blue cheese added to it.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” my sister exclaimed, looking faintly green.

Maverick shook his head and smiled slightly, rubbing his face. “It’s really gross, but I had to eat it because she said it was good for me.”

<You won’t make him eat that, will you?> Derek asked urgently, looking slightly panicked.

“Ew! No! I can’t even stand to be in the same room as the stuff, how would I force him to eat it?” I turned to Maverick. “No natto, I promise. You never have to eat it if you don’t want to. What about the rice? Was that good or bad?”

“No rice,” he whispered.

“Okay, no rice. That’s fine. I eat it a lot, but usually for lunch or dinner, and you don’t have to eat it either, that’s okay.” I was starting to feel like his issue with some foods had nothing to do with the texture, after watching a normally cocky loudmouth be reduced to tears at the mere concept of a specific meal. “We can still do miso soup with breakfast, if you like. And… crepes?” I glanced around at Antoine, my sister, and my friend for confirmation. “He likes savory crepes, Tych,” I told her.

“Ooo! Miso soup and savory crepes would be really good!” she lit up genuinely. “Maybe spinach and mushroom? That would pair well I think.” Antoine nodded in agreement, a thoughtful look on his face.

When Maverick nodded, I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “Okay, so we can start there for breakfast tomorrow. Different kinds of crepes, some savory, some sweet. Miso soup, scrambled and boiled eggs on the side, as many different cheeses as we can get while avoiding the pungent ones. Greens. Toast, butter, and we’ll figure out a selection of jams, although one should be lingonberry to go with the crepes. That should cover pretty much everyone. Teas, coffee, water, and juices.”

“The tomato sangria again?” my sister asked hopefully.

“Definitely,” I laughed.

Arantxa scrunched up her nose as she finished inputting the list. “This is all over the place. How does that all go together?”

I shook my head. “Right. I’m supposed to be actually teaching this, not just doing it. Sorry. Um, yeah. So, a lot of cultures eat vegetables with breakfast, and some people just don’t like sweet foods, so vegetables and savories. Other people really prefer sweets for breakfast, so sweet crepes, toast, jams and jellies. Most cultures like cheeses any time of day, so those are always a good idea when you’re planning a meal and need to fill it out some. Then the drinks: you almost always want to include that exact list of beverages, just make sure the juices compliment what you are serving overall. Since everything on that list is pretty ‘bright’ from a flavor perspective, which usually means ‘fresh’, the sangria will go well, but we’ll pick at least one non-citrus since some people aren’t fond of it. We still have to fine-tune it, picking out which crepes, which jams, all that stuff, but it’s a good basis.”

“I have to go,” Maverick interjected, tilting his bowl so both Antoine and I could see it was empty.

I nodded, and Antoine stood before I could. “I will take him to Xiomara so she knows he is cleared to fly,” he patted my shoulder. “You ladies focus on what we need to do to keep everyone calm. Derek, don’t forget you need to come make sure everything is still calibrated.” With that, all three of the men at the table headed off.

“How are we supposed to keep everyone calm?” I complained. “We don’t even know exactly what is going on. The sensors were damaged, the replacements destroyed…. Rants, did Derek and Zach ever figure out who messed with the sensors in the halls?”

She shook her head, dark hair flying. “Unfortunately not. All they could figure out is that whatever caused it wasn’t done all at once. When Derek tried to trace it backwards, he was led to over thirty different terminals total. He said something about either a group of people involved, or something called a ‘spoof’?”

“Someone spoofing the source,” I clarified, only half to her. “What about Miys? These are their systems we’re talking about, they have to be more familiar. Did they find anything different?”

She shook her head again. “They only confirmed what Derek and Zach found. All of them are waiting for records of who accessed those consoles from 24 hours before the first access occurred until 24 hours after so they can try to narrow down the list. But, if it’s a group, I don’t know if that will help.”

“Investigations have to start somewhere,” I sighed. “Tyche, anybody got too much downtime right now?”

“Just us,” she remarked wryly. “All of the pilots who were brought up here are either on rotation as drone pilots or navigators, with the exceptions being Maverick and Evan since they are actually the ones responsible for moving the boat until we can get everything back on line. Pranav and his assistant are taking twelve-hour turns keeping track of minute camera adjustments necessary to make sure Maverick and Evan still have the clearest field of vision, along with managing the rest of his department remotely. Xiomara and Grey are riding herd on the flight crew in back to back shifts while also looking into the investigation as much as possible from here. Their assistants are filling in for them on the day to day stuff. Eino is still running education remotely, with his assistant as support. Huynh and his assistant are overseeing the finishing of sleeping space and the permanent installation of the bathrooms, while also trying to coordinate the construction of the diving platforms in BioLab 2.”

I tilted my head back with a groan. “Which leaves us. I still need to update the ship on what happened with the drugs. Tych, I hate to ask, but can you start drafting that while I go over the breakfast menu with Rants? That way, while she is trying to set one up for lunch, she can pick your brain and I can broadcast the update, start answering questions, and Zach can isolate and loop each question I answer until we have some FAQs, just like Arantxa did last time. Is that good for everyone?” I got nods from both women, and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get started.”

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#the miys #scifi #humans are weird #original fiction #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #apocalypse

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lesbianfreyja · 6 years

Note

wait I didn’t scroll far enough....41 and/or 61 too 👀

and 2 more 41s requested by anons!!! endless 41s!!!!!! so, by popular demand:

41. I’m not drunk enough for this.

+ 61. I told you not to fall in love with me.

Mac kicked his feet at himunder the table. Dennis trapped one of Mac’s wandering ankles between both hisown. Mac twisted it around unsuccessfully for a minute before yanking it free,glowering fiercely.

“Time to behave, you stupidasshole,” Dennis muttered, under the guise of a very bright smile. “This iswhat we’ve been training for. Don’t ruin it with a hissy fit.”

“I’m not having a — I don’thave fits, Dennis,” said Mac, frowninginto his coffee. “I’m just pissed off that they don’t have blueberry pancakes.They said they got their fruits fresh every morning on the website!”

“Well, tough titties,” saidDennis. “Life isn’t always like it says on the internet, okay? Now behave. Yourpouting is ruining our whole married vibe that we’re trying to put out there.You’re gonna blow this for us, and then we don’t have anything else to do for twomore hours.”

“Why did Dee have to meet withthose surrogate bitches in the afternoon?”

Mac stabbed at thecomplimentary granola and yogurt with the business end of his spoon. Dennis hadpreviously not been aware that somebody could eat breakfast with this level ofsulk, but then he had never met someone stupid enough to say no when Mac askedfor blueberry pancakes.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s good practice,”said Dennis airily. “Now we have some extra time to get into our roles, right?”

He waved his napkin out as heunwrapped his utensils and smoothed it over his lap. Mac had his crumpled inhis fist, although he was still using his arm to wipe off his face anyway wheneverthe outside of his mouth got stained with coffee. In an effort to keep itoccupied so as to force him to use the napkin, Dennis reached out and took Mac’sfree hand firmly over the table. He smiled a bit softly, squeezing his hand. Macrolled his eyes.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,”he mumbled. Looking around, he flagged down their waiter and ordered a shot ofKahlua for his coffee.

“Jesus Christ, you are bad at this,” said Dennis after their waiter walkedaway.

“What?” said Mac. “You loveKahlua in your coffee.”

“Yes, I do,” Dennis agreed. “But I don’t really take Vic and Hugh for themorning drinker types, do you?”

“Oh, right.” Mac frowned into hisblack coffee. “Sorry, Dennis.”

Dennis rolled his eyes.

“How many times do I have totell you?” he asked, squeezing Mac’s hand again for emphasis. “The whole pointof this is to settle into our personas, Vic.I’d appreciate it if you would call me by my correct name.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Hugh.”

Dennis sighed and broke into someof the toast on his plate. It was crazy how much better he was at acting thanMac, but at least now he was trying. He let go of Mac’s hand to reach for aknife.

“Can you pass me the butter?”

“Sure thing, babe.”

Dennis started to mumble his thanks,then did a double-take. Mac was grinning at him across the table, and after asecond Dennis’s hackles went back down and he reluctantly smiled.

“That’s more like it,” hemurmured, spreading the butter out on his toast.

Mac was still smiling goofilyat him, no matter how much Dennis snapped at him to stop, when the waiter returnedwith the Kahlua. Even though he gave Mac shit for it earlier, spiked coffee didsound good. He grabbed it off the table before Mac could make a move for it, thenpoured a generous amount into both of their cups.

“What are you doing?” asked Mac,but he didn’t sound angry with him for having the bottle snatched away from hiscontrol, just surprised. He leaned back in his seat to avoid the splash zone.

“Treating my husband tobreakfast,” said Dennis lightly. He kept his eyes trained on the Kahlua as heset it back down on a flat surface, but pink was rising in his cheeks and hecould feel Mac’s widened eyes on him. Dennis looked up — bravely, he felt, andwith a stoic face to boot. “I believe this is how Hugh Honey acts when he’s outwith his, uh—”

“Trophy husband,” Mac supplied.Dennis flushed but couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little.

“Right,” mumbled Dennis,ducking his head back down.

He didn’t usually like coffeethis strong, but he had the urge to chug it all back at once. The cup wasmostly empty when the waiter finally came by with their food, and he declined arefill. When he next looked up, Mac was already wolfing down his (tragicallyplain) pancakes with alarming and unattractive speed; Dennis sniffed and pokedhis fork around his scrambled eggs, looking around for Tabasco to steal from anearby table.

“Can I have a bite of that?”Mac asked as soon as he’d doused it, and his fork prodded its way into Dennis’sview. He looked up to see Mac watching him with an open expression and hashbrown in his teeth.

“No way,” said Dennis, edging Mac’sfork out of the way with his own. “After you had a meltdown over blueberriesearlier and called me a stupid bitch for wanting eggs?”

“Aw, come on,” said Mac. “Hugh wouldtotally give me some eggs, bro.”

Dennis’s eyes narrowed as theystared each other down across the table. With a sigh, Dennis stopped blockinghim and pushed his plate over.

“Goddamn it,” he sighed. “That’sa good point.”

“Ha!” said Mac, stabbing whatappeared to be half the plate onto his tines and shoving it all in his puffycheeks. “This is exactly what you were talking about, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember, Hugh?” he asked,looking up at him. His eyes were wide and bright, sparking; Dennis felt heatcrawl across the back of his neck, and he was glad he was wearing a polo shirtto cover it up. He kept his face impassive, but Mac was leaning forward eagerlyanyway. “It’s like you said on our first date. When you finally wore me downafter asking for, like, months.”

Dennis arched an eyebrow,amused.

“Is that what happened?” he askedmildly.

“Oh yeah, bro! Of course youwere putting the moves on me. But you’re kinda charming, so eventually I saidyes.” Mac rolled his eyes. “Back then you were just a lonely billionaire with adream, but I was the working classguy with the background in real estate helping you get your business off theground. You were, like, immediately hittingon me, dude. Just like always. So anyway, finally I went out with you, and I wasannoyed because of how much walkingthere turned out to be in golf! And you said—”

When Dennis was a junior incollege, Mac came up to visit for a weekend. For once, he’d been without Charlie,who had had plans — or maybe he’d been sleeping, or too stoned to show up, or justhadn’t felt like it. Dennis couldn’t remember anymore; it hadn’t beenimportant, even at the time. Mac had shown up at his door with some prettypotent LSD, and they’d trekked into the woods off-campus while it melted ontheir tongue until it kicked in, and they’d spent hours getting lost out there.

Mac was still antsy when they startedcoming down, and they cleaned up and ordered food, but he didn’t want to staycooped up any later than it took to down a big order of wings. Dennis drove them to afair a little ways out of town, and they spent hours riding everything there,in between sneaking into the drinks tent to get wasted; Dennis threw up on thetilt-a-whirl, and Mac had to spend the last of his pocket money on ginger ale. Whenthey were sitting on a park bench, waiting for Dennis’s stomach to settle, Mac gotfrustrated and he asked, “You know you’re a real fucking expensive date, huh?”and he didn’t mean it that way but Dennis was still feeling a little off-kilterfrom the LSD and the beer and he smirked up at Mac and said—

“I told you not to fall in lovewith me,” Dennis murmured. It came a little bit mechanically. He coughed. “Vic.”

His throat felt closed up, andhe couldn’t even bring himself to get angry at Mac for throwing in details oftheir fake marriage that they hadn’t previously agreed on. Hugh and Vic’s firstdate was supposed to have been to a wine tasting in Napa Valley. He was alittle surprised, that was all, that Mac remembered something that had happenedthat long ago on a day where he hadn’t been sober. And that maybe he thoughtabout the same way that Dennis did.

Dennis swallowed, pushing thatthought away, but he looked at him with his lips parted. Mac was fixated on hisbrunch again, though, and not paying him any mind; but a small smile was stillplaying on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” said Mac,digging back into his food.

Something was glowing rose-goldin Dennis’s chest as he stilled. He just watched Mac eat for a long moment,barely reacting to the sticky mess he was making or what he was talking about. Atsome point, Mac glanced up with his mouth still full and caught him in the act.Dennis bit his lip, and Mac only missed a beat before he kicked Dennis in theankle again.

“Get eating,” he instructed. “We’veonly got two hours to make it downtown and we still have to catch a bus.”

Mac understood him most of thetime, fundamentally. He knew what not to mention and when to divert a conversation.Maybe it was just his bossiness flaring up in him, wanting the attention and todomineer the conversation, but whatever it was Dennis felt grateful.

Hiding his own warm smile — strangeand terrifying and also the most natural and familiar thing in the world — Denniswent back to his brunch.

#i promise i'll do the other numbers in these asks too sdkljkldjs but yea #honeyv fics never die!!!!#you could also technically read this as a warmup for a bigger thing im doing so wigg #they were banging in season 5 #glirsty #hyruling #ask #drabble tag #iasip fic #fic #fic stuff #iasip #mac x dennis

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genderfluidfuckernamedfox · 5 years

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The Witch is Sealed

Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fanfic and I’m really nervous about posting this but I hope that some feed back might encourage me to post what I write more often.

Italics means flashback

Namjoon x Reader x OC

fluffy with some angst.

There was once a time, in a universe far different from ours, where the Earth was filled with extraordinary beings who possessed strange and unique abilities. These beings were called elementals or chargers but they were more commonly referred to as witches; they lived alongside the humans in peace. The two would help each other grow in knowledge that was ever expanding and art that shaped the idea of beauty for a millennia. It was a renaissance of dreams and aspirations, a time when humanity pushed the boundaries of the natural law with the help of witches. There were no wars, the very idea was inconceivable to the old generation nor was there famine, it was truly a time when the world was at peace with itself. Unfortunately just as quickly as this everlasting peace had blossomed, it collapsed. One witch was all it took. Her soul was corrupted and turned rotten from the inside out, there was nothing but evil and darkness left in her blackened heart. She used her new found dark powers and previous knowledge of the world to massacre thousands of people, not just ordinary humans either, she didn’t care who was caught in the crossfire of her rage. Entire cities were burned with a single wave of her outstretched hand.

After the dawn had broken the new day, all that was left were the ashes of memories and towns burned to the ground. The evil witch was said to have hung herself as at sunrise, but others have speculated that she still lurks somewhere within the shadows. As a result of her uncontained violence and the utter destruction she released upon the world, a council was called upon to rid the world of witches, the people had turned against each other. The world was abruptly thrown into a dark age, with nothing but slaughter and violence to paint the years. The council consisted of three humans and three witches; together they came to a compromise. The remaining witches would leave the humans domain. The earth they were to live upon was to be hidden from sight. ( a small chunk of land deep within the forest)The new world for witches would be contained and enchanted, so that no human could ever stumble upon it.

After the witches disappeared, over the years they were forgotten, only a select few were allowed to remember. The council and their descendants were sworn to secrecy. Over the last thousand years however, someone betrayed that promise. Only a century ago the humans openly hated the witches and a group of new age witch hunters would even go so far as to burn someone convicted of being a witch at the stake; just like in the dark ages. As a result of this witches were here on banned from ever leaving their separate domain, a spell was cast, an invisible force kept it hidden from human eye. No one would dare step near it in fear of the consequences of crossing the line that divides the two worlds. That was the original deal, stay on your side and no one gets hurt, but you never know what kind of lost soul could be wandering about the lines that separate our realities.

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It had started out as any regular day in the cabin like cottage. Except the normally clean living room was a mess with half burnt candles and the smell of sage was left lingering throughout the house. A slight ache pounded through your temples; most likely a result of last night's bonfire event. You and your two roommates had celebrated you passing your midterms with flying colors. They had surprised you when you came home; the two had greeted you at the door with your favorite cake and a few packs of soul juice. More commonly known as soju for short, the amount you consumed explained the small headache. Namjoon and Al were still passed out somewhere in the house. The three of you occupied the small space in the middle of the forest just two miles away from The School of Powers. You had been training under Namjoon and living together with him and Al for the past six months and honestly things were going great. You all went to the college for chargers and elementals. Al, your older house mate and current best friend, was majoring in spells and enchantments and you happened run into them on the first day of freshman year.

Walking through the crowded halls whilst trying to find out where your next class was, had proven to be beyond difficult. A few people ran past you in the crowded hallway accidentally knocking you over, you braced yourself for the cold hard wood floor to hit your skin. Yet what you felt were a pair of strong arms enveloping your frame and your back prest to a warm chest.

“Are you okay sweetie?” a soft voice asked.

“Y-yeah, sorry I’m just trying to find Enchantments 101,” when you finally turned around to look at the stranger who had saved you from falling, you were met with a rather short boy about 5’3 with the deepest ocean green eyes and jet black hair, his ends dyed a caramel blond and his lips resembled that of a plump rose. He smiled softly as you continued to blatantly stare. He winked at you.

“Well, since I can tell you think I look good like this,” he motioned to his body, “wait til you see my other form.” Confused and now blushing from embarrassment as you had been caught checking him out, you wait to see what happens. Within the blink of an eye you find that a cute girl resembling him is now stood in front of you. Her hair slightly longer and face more rounded, she throws the same wink at you. Her white hoodie seemed longer and was filled out more in the chest area where as the boy you just saw a second ago in the same sweater was definitely flat chested.

“The name’s Al, my special ability is form shifting. So I can go from this,” they then shifted back to their original form that you met them in, “to this.” Voice now much deeper but somehow still sounding the same.

“Wow,” was all you managed to choke out while unable to tear your eyes away from them.

“Enchantments 101 is the room right across the hall by the way.” You finally gathered yourself enough to smile at them and say a quick thanks. They gently grabbed your shoulder before you left. “You never gave me your name,” realization hit you and you suddenly felt very rude.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, how impolite of me, my name’s Y/n. It’s very nice to have met you.” They chuckled at your sudden panic.

“No need to be so formal, it’s quite alright. I’ll see you around sweetie, now get to class.” you nodded and headed off to class, for some reason now feeling more at ease in this new school.

The cabin that you lived in wasn’t big by any means but it has always been super comfy. However since it wasn’t very spacious, whenever someone cooked something on the stove or in the oven, the whole house went up a few degrees. Knowing this, and also knowing that this would definitely make Al uncomfortable because they had to have the house at 75 or below or else. You began to cook some eggs and toast for everyone’s breakfast. There was just something about today, you didn’t know what but you knew that something was going to happen, call it witches intuition. Breakfast seemed like the most pleasant thing that could happen right now. While scrambling the eggs and adding in the cheese you noticed a tall figure emerge from one of the rooms.

“Y/n?” a deep sleep filled voice asked, “What’s for breakfast?” you turned around and smiled at Namjoon already setting down a plate for him and Al.

“Scrambled eggs with cheese and some toast.” he nodded, content with your answer. He was dressed in his regular Ryan pajamas, which consisted of a long sleeve button up shirt and matching shorts. His tired eyes meet yours with a sweet dimpled smile, his line of sight shifts from you to the food as he begins to spread butter and jam on his toast. Meeting Namjoon had been weird at first but you were almost immediately comfortable with him.

In your skill set course, everyone was supposed to show off their abilities to the class on the first day, so far three kids had gone. The first one was a fire starter and he danced around the class with his flames, it was a really beautiful performance and quiet the cool skill by Park Jimin, the applause he received was deafening. The next one could duplicate herself, it was an amazing skill but it also took a lot of her energy away. Since she wasn’t and elemental she couldn’t draw on the forces of nature to supply her magic energy, she had to recharge herself through touch. That’s the problem with having these powers, it’s a give and take relationship. The more you use your power the more it takes out of you. Depending on whether or not you're an elemental or a charger determines where and how much energy you can give or get. She went to her friend for a long hug after almost passing out due to duplicating herself twice. The class waited until she sat down to cheer for her. You thought to yourself that she shouldn’t have pushed to hard and you hoped she’d be okay, but she seemed fine after a few minutes with her friend. Upon closer inspection you could see their name tags the girls name was Lisa and her friend was Jisoo.

The next skill that you saw sent a chill down your spine; slowly turning your blood to ice. He was an energy manipulator, it’s one of the most dangerous skills out there in the magic world; not to mention extremely rare. The way magic works is that certain people have two types of energy forms. Regular non magics have just one, in simpler terms it’s what’s referred to as the soul and magics have two distinct energy forms, their souls and then their magics. It’s what determines if they can get energy from nature or have specific chargers like people or animals and rarely there are types that charge in isolation, it lets the body know how much energy intake it can withstand before it becomes too much for the person. Being able to manipulate that is truly terrifying. The boy seemed so strong and his skill emphasized that feature ten fold. Jungkook was his name and his demonstration wasn’t exactly what you thought it would be. When he spoke it was gentle, he projected his voice enough for the whole class to hear but it was still soft and the way he spoke was kind.

“Unfortunately I’ll need a volunteer from the audience, my skill has no effect on my own energy or body... I promise I won’t hurt you, my skill is very unique and I’ll admit it can be quite dangerous. I’ve taken many precautions in my life to ensure that I don’t hurt someone. For this demonstration of my skills I’ll suppress the volunteers energy, you’ll feel sleepy and like you’ll need a nap. Once your asleep I’ll stop suppressing it so your natural energy can flow again, waking you up.” Immediately seven or eight hands flew up. You heard the class murmuring about how charming and handsome this guy was, you came to the conclusion that they wanted to be held in his arms while he put them to sleep, because that would be romantic somehow. You decided to raise your hand out of pure curiosity, you didn’t trust him but for some reason that made you feel safer about volunteering.

“You, please come to the front of the class and stand next to me.” he pointed at you and motioned for you to stand with him. The teachers assistant stood next to you on the other side of Jungkook.

“You’ll most likely fall or stumble a little so I’ll stand here to catch you.” you nodded as he placed his hands on your arms, barely touching you, glancing at his name tag it read ‘Namjoon’ looking back over at the boy who would temporarily be messing with your energy you gulped feeling your palms begin to sweat. Your nervousness was obvious and Namjoon began to draw soothing circles on your arms in an attempt to calm you. Jungkook noticed this too and looked you directly in your eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Sleep.” he whispered the last part as his palm was held up to your face. Your eyelids slowly shut and the next thing you know you’re waking up on the floor with Namjoons body beneath yours. Quickly you stood up but stumbled about momentarily unable to find your balance. Namjoon was quick to his feet, and Jungkook placed his hands on your back to keep you from falling. With them now both holding you on either side your senses had come back and you were now fully alert and unharmed. Looking down you noticed that your glasses however were not unharmed you must have fallen on them or something because they were broken into two pieces. Namjoon leaned down to pick them up as Jungkook apologized for the accident. When Namjoon handed you back your glasses they were completely fixed, not a scratch on them.

“How did you do that?” you asked still in shock, he sheepishly smiled.

“That’s my skill, I can bind any object on a molecular level.” you looked up at him with a sparkle in your eyes.

“That’s so cool!” he smiled again, this time brighter and you admired his deep set dimples and the way his eyes were shaped like crescent moons. The teachers spoke up, voice directed at you.

“Well miss Y/n, since you’re unharmed and already up here would you like to go next?” you gave a quick nod before turning to look at the class.

“My skill is levitation.” You got a few ‘ooh’s, and awe’s” from the class. You breathed in deep as you focused on trying to levitate a small object. Pencils are always good for this kind of activity, it started with one, then three, then six pencils were suspended in the air. Eventually everyone’s pencils and pens were floating above their heads, even the teachers cup full of pens were dangling in the classroom. You then began to gently set them back down onto the desks, exhaling as you did so. The class applauded you and Namjoon whispered in your ear.

“Great job Y/n,” as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You smiled to yourself, finding this boy to be utterly captivating.

“Oh my god,” you heard Al’s voice as they shuffled into the kitchen area. “It’s so hot! I feel like I’m in Satan's urethra and he has a UTI.” Their hair was a complete mess and they were wearing nothing but baggy shorts that hung loosely off their hips. Thank god they were in male form or else you and Namjoon might have a heart attack. They looked lovingly at Namjoon as a small smile crept up onto their face.

“Your hair’s a mess Joonie,” they ran their fingers through his hair gently fixing it.

“You’re one to talk.” Namjoon rebutted while leaning into Al’s touch, his eyes still halfway closed not completely awake yet.

“If you keep rubbing his hair like that he’ll fall back asleep” you warned. They nodded and moved their hand back to their lap as they sat down.

“Yeah, you’re probably right sweetie.” you felt warmth bloom in your chest at the nickname they had given you on the first day you met. These two were your first friends in college and you felt so much love for them both, just as they did for you.

“Love you should eat. Look at all this food Y/n cooked for us.” love was the first of many nicknames Al gave to Namjoon, he never seemed to mind. The three of you were sat down at the island in the kitchen to finish eating your breakfast. As your mind wandered off, coffee mug in hand and gazing with fondness at the two, you began to reminisce about the first time you saw them both together.

The library is the perfect place to study for exams and get caught up on coursework. As you walk in the giant building you notice chandeliers hung up high on the large roof and what seemed like miles and miles of bookshelves against the walls and a nice common area with couches and bean bags placed all around. You notice two people studying and quizzing each other from afar. As you walked towards the familiar figures, it was Al and Namjoon, smiling to yourself you walked faster to go greet them.

“Hi guys!” you waved frantically like an over excited child. They both looked up and smiled at you

“Sweetie!” Al greeted back and immediately ran up to you to suffocate you in a bone crushing hug. Face now buried in their chest, you were about the same height as them but they wrapped one arm around your head and the other around your back, shoving you into their boobs. You choke out a quiet

“Can’t... Breath.” they let go placing their hands up

“Sorry sweetie, I just got a bit excited,” they shyly smiled and looked down avoiding eye contact, you reassured them it was all right and you both went to go sit next to Namjoon.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” he gently patted your back. You had never been one to be a fan of physical affection in particular but something about these two put you at ease. You felt safe with them. You looked down at the table and noticed that there was a scoreboard with their initials on each side of the paper that was split in half. So far Al’s side had 15 marks and Namjoons side only had three.

“What’s this for?” you wondered aloud.

“Ah, this,” Namjoon pointed to the scores, “Is a wager, that Al is currently losing.” they looked up at him and pouted. “ I honestly don’t know why you bet on these every time when you know you can’t beat me.” Still curious as to what exactly was going on you figured you might as well ask.

“So what’s the bet?” Namjoon answered you again.

“If Al beats me on the scoreboard then I owe them 20 bucks, but if I beat Al then they will buy me black bean noodles for dinner.” You nodded still not quite understanding how the game works.

“Sounds fun but Al has more marks on their side, so doesn’t that mean that they are winning?” finally finding their voice Al chimed in

“No, each question that we get wrong is a tally mark on our board so whoever has the highest score loses.” You nodded again

“Ah, I see. So what subject are you studying?”

“Spells.” Al and Namjoon said in unison, the three of you looked at each other and chuckled. You spent the rest of the night studying with them and when it was finally time to go, due to the library’s closing hours, Al packed up their stuff and shifted into their male form

“Come on guys dinners on me.” They winked at both you and Namjoon and you noticed that he tensed up a bit at the sudden change in Al’s form. He bent down next to you as they were almost to the front door.

“I swear I’ll never get used to how fast they can change forms, it shocks me almost every time.” he laughed nervously. You gave him a reassuring smile

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. Plus it’s a super cool skill to have. I kinda want to talk to them more about it and find out exactly how it works, the same goes for your skill of course, like can you combine any two objects or can you do more than two? you guys are both just so cool.” he smiled down at you a slight blush dusting his cheeks

“Thanks Y/n, that’s really sweet of you to say. Your skill is cool too, is it only small objects or can you lift anything?” you were about to reply when Al shouted at the both of you.

“Hey you guys coming or what? We can’t have a sleepover in the library, it’s getting late.” you and Namjoon both jogged to catch up with Al as they were leaving the building. He leaned over and whispered to you “They’re joking, we actually sneak in here every few weeks for a sleepover.”you laughed to yourself, trying to hide your red cheeks from Al and Namjoon.

A slight drizzle fell from the sky and onto your party of three. Al started laughing and jumping about “Hell yeah!” they exclaimed now taking their shirt off and tying it their waist

“What are you doing!?” you almost yelled, shocked.

“Catch me if you can!” they yelled back running away from you and into the storm. Confused you looked to Namjoon to find some answers, he seemed just as shocked as you.

“What-” you began but were cut off.

“Their an elemental. Specifically they get their energy from storms and rain.” you also being an elemental understood this, however you got your energy from being in the forest, it must be inconvenient for their elemental to be storms because the area that you are in usually has really great weather. you looked in the direction that Al went, they had completely disappeared from sight.

“Do you know where they’re going? And also how the heck are we supposed to catch up with them?” he nodded

“Yeah there’s a Korean restaurant a few streets from here, and we can catch up to them if you get on my back.” your eyes nearly bulged out of your head

“What do you mean!? Wouldn’t that slow us down?” he laughed at your expression

“Calm down, I’m no elemental but luckily my charger is people. So if you get on my back I can carry you while you charge my energy. Sound good?” he asked with cautious eyes probably sensing that you were uncomfortable. You nodded and climbed onto his back, nuzzling your face into his neck you suddenly felt very tired. He was so warm against you and it felt good compared to the cold in the air. He chuckled and whispered “cute” under his breath at your already half asleep form. You closed your eyes for just a minute but when they reopened you were already at the restaurant. Al waving at you both from a booth, they had shifted back to their female form and thankfully put their shirt back on. You all sat down at the booth enjoying your warm meal and talking about your majors and general life goals. It was a beautiful time with friends who you really began to cherish.

An abruptly loud crack of thunder aroused you from your thoughts, at the sound you jumped. Next to you, Al’s entire body perked up and they walked straight out the door.

“Sorry I gotta go guys, I’ll be back before dark. Love you!” they left while grabbing a white tank top off the back of the sofa, refusing to look anywhere but forwards. Their plate still warm on the island between you and Namjoon.

“Oppa, should we be worried about them?” you turned to him voice laced with concern, using the name he had told you to call him upon you two becoming friends, you only used it when you were worried or tired though and today you were both. He stuck his hand out to ruffle your hair.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine baby.” he smiled kindly at you as you blushed at the nickname.

“Let me get the dishes,” he stood up cleaning off the counter and washing the dishes as promised. You plopped down onto the couch ready to watch some netflix

“Hey, do you wanna watch Mulan?” he shuffled over to the living room to look at the screen.

“Sure,” he said before sitting down beside you. You looked over at him after pressing play.

“Do you wanna cuddle?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You will most definitely fall asleep if we do, you know I take energy from people.” you nodded.

“I know but I’m already sleepy and kinda worried about Al. I’d rather sleep than worry.” he then brought you into his arms, head resting on his chest as you listened to his heart beat.

“Okay” he spoke gently, “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” he reassured you while running his fingers through your hair. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Al to cuddle with him, he did gather energy from touching and sensing others. It was also just nice for the three of you to cuddle sometimes. Slowly you drifted off into a deep sleep, what had started out as a weird dream filled with giant school books soon turned into a nightmare when you were crushed by the weight of a giant mathematics book. Suddenly you’re back home sitting at your desk that has clusters of notes and crumpled up sketches. The book open in front of you is an old journal that you used to keep ‘hey, I remember this.’ the door burst open almost flying off its hinges.

“Y/n!” a deep familiar voice filled with anger screamed at you. “What the hell is this?” the tall man held up a sheet of paper, it was the first time you had ever documented your skill in levitation, you managed to lift up a small pebble on the playground and throw it two feet in front of you. You were so excited and proud of yourself you wrote it down, along with the next few tries. The man starts advancing towards you, you try to move but your limbs are numb and the only feeling left in your body is paralyzing fear. A sudden pain shot through your scalp, tears burned your eyes as your vision blurred.

“Dad,” you brokenly sobbed out as he sent you flying into a wall.

“No daughter of mine could be a magic, filthy witch.” venom spewed from his lips “Your whore of a mother must have been fucking around with a magic.” Hearing him speak of your deceased mother that way sent rage filled tears streaming down your cheeks. The look in his eyes was that of pure hatred, never had you thought he would act this way toward you. Sure he was strict and never very loving but he never laid a hand on you, not until that day.

You woke up crying into Namjoon's chest, breath short and eyes puffy. He must have dosed off as well because he sleepily grunts upon feeling you shift, gently rubbing his eyes. your body stiffens, not wanting to wake the sweet boy beneath you. He really was a beautiful person, so kind and handsome, you’d hate to make him worry. The way that the dim light hit his face giving him an unearthly glow, your heart could so easily fall in love with him if your brain didn’t know better. You slowly made your way off the couch taking care not to disturb his deep slumber. Weather like this always did this to the two of you. You’d sleep the whole day away if it wasn’t for Al’s loud personality keeping everyone more than awake. They’d always disappear for a while, never longer than three hours though. An overwhelming feeling of worry settled in the pit of your stomach. Realization hit you, they had left this morning and it was now dark outside. You felt like crying again, what could have happened to them? This late at night there’s no way that something bad didn’t happen to them. Your thoughts ran wild, but the more rational part of you dialed their phone number. Unfortunately you heard it ringing from on the island in the kitchen. They had really dropped everything and left this morning. Before you could start panicking the door was thrown open as a flash of lightning brought about another downpour of rain. Al stood in the doorway eyes halfway hidden by their drenched black and caramel locks, pupils blown wide and chest heaving up and down frantically. You noticed a large gash on their right upper arm. Lips parted trying to take in more oxygen as blood trickled down from their busted lip.

“I fucked up.” Was all that they uttered before grabbing you by the hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

“Woah, woah, slow down, what do you mean? Where the hell have you been? I was so worried. Tell me what’s going on,” you demanded. They grabbed your face, gently caressing your cheeks with their thumbs, looking into your eyes.

“I promise I will sweetie, I’ll tell you everything but I need some help with this first okay?” they said getting the first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet. You nodded taking over for them. “If we have any of that numbing potion we made a while back for shit like this I’d really love some right about now. This hurts. A lot.” you nodded finding the small purple bottle. Placing two drops on the wound causing them to sigh in relief, their shoulders dropping as they began to relax.

“It looks like it needs stitches. We’ve got some healing tape, that should work.” they nodded giving you permission to place the sticky bandage on the gash.

“Thank you, Y/n.” It was odd that they weren’t using the nickname they gave you. Something about it was unsettling and the air in the bathroom was now very tense. You searched for an answer to all your questions in their eyes. You took time to admire the small features about them that you haven't noticed before, like the baby freckles that lined the center of their face and the small hickey shaped birthmark on their neck next to two more prominent freckles, like constellations, they were beautiful. Al looked back at you, as if they were looking into your soul. It felt so intimate yet almost normal, their gaze drifted down to your lips before they quickly moved off to the side, avoiding eye contact. “I need to tell you what happened.” they ran their fingers through their still damp locks.

Suddenly grabbing your hips, placing you in a sitting position on top of the toilet seat. “I like to run around the border.” They stated simply. Your eyes widened in disbelief, sure you knew that Al like to play around and be mischievous a lot but that was something that was strictly forbidden by the council. It was dangerous and they proved that today by coming back home a bloodied mess. What the hell were they thinking? Biting back your anger for their reckless behavior you waited quietly for them to continue. “First of all I know it's dumb and I'm sorry for making you worry but there is something going on here that we don't know about,” their eyes fell upon you once again as they continued. “I think we have a witch hunter problem on our hands.”

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allthegodstars · 6 years

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Sapphire Flames Snippets

Little Snippet:

The Harris County Institute of Forensic Sciences occupied a nine-story building on Old Spanish Trail. Its blocky lines, rectangular windows, and orange brick practically screamed that it housed some sort of government agency.

I maneuvered our Honda Element into the parking lot. It used to be our surveillance vehicle, but last year Grandma Frida decided to rebuild it from wheels up. Now the Element sported a new engine, a reinforced suspension, and custom dampers for enhanced shock absorption. The windows were bulletproof, and the new glass had both the safety glazing and a polycarbonate layer on the inside, so if someone did shoot at us, the windows would crack but hold together. And most importantly, the Element was now equipped with B5 level armor, which meant it would stop most handguns and shotgun blasts. It could have been armored enough to withstand a sniper shot; however, Grandma Frida reasoned that our best chance of survival was getting away fast, and armor was heavy, so she stopped at B5 and added a reinforced floor and run-flat tires.

Unfortunately, even Grandma Frida had her limits, and steering was a bit sluggish. I was used to it by now and I aimed for a parking spot in the middle row.

“So, what’s with you and Alessandro Sagredo?” Runa asked.

The steering was sluggish, but the brakes worked perfectly. I jerked forward, and my seat belt slammed me back.

“Nothing.”

“Aha.” Runa pulled on her own seat belt. “That’s why we screeched to a stop halfway into the parking space?”

“My foot slipped.” I gently eased forward and brought the Element to a smooth stop.

Last night, after Bern carried Rutger into the guest bedroom and Runa settled in on inflatable mattress next to him, I went back to my office, rescued Alessandro’s picture from my desk drawer, and brought it upstairs to my bedroom. He looked so carefree, caught in a magic moment somewhere sunny and warm. When I looked at the picture, a disquieting, unpleasant feeling squeezed my chest, not pain exactly, but a kind of discomfort. I stood in my bedroom and wished with everything I had that I was there, in the sun, with a backdrop of green mountains and Alessandro and I were going somewhere. Together.

It was stupid, and childish, and it would never be. I hid it all inside, put the picture on my nightstand, and went to bed.

“So, you’re just going to go with ‘nothing?’” Runa asked.

“That’s right.”

“Your sister said you met during your trials.”

Sistercide was not a word, but it would be after today. “Yes.”

“Yes what? Is there a story behind that?”

No. He didn’t follow me on Instagram, and he didn’t take my breath away during the trials. And he definitely didn’t show up under my window after trying to convince me to go for a drive.

“We met during the trials, and my sisters haven’t stopped trolling me about it for the last three years. There is absolutely nothing between me and Alessandro Sagredo.”

Strictly speaking, there was 5,561 miles between our warehouse and the Sagredo estate near Venice, Italy. A commercial flight with one stop could get me to Venice in thirteen hours.

“Your cheeks are turning pink,” Runa said. “Are you imagining there being nothing between you and Alessandro?”

***

On Rants, Well Deserved Nature Of:

As I’ve pointed out four times now, this entire incident has been recorded by security cameras. The footage will show that Ms. Etterson and I were attacked without provocation and we defended ourselves as is our right under Article 3 paragraph 1 through 4 of the House Protection Act.”

“Is that so?” Sgt. Munoz’s eyebrows crept up a quarter of an inch.

“You have no cause to detain either me or Runa Etterson. We have cooperated, and we have given our statements.”

“Ms. Baylor.” He frowned. “You wouldn’t happen to have an older sister, would you?”

That was just too much. “When Nevada encountered you, she was under a great deal of stress trying to keep us alive and save Houston. She didn’t have a chance to note that every time there was an incident requiring a law enforcement response, you mysteriously appeared on the scene. But I did.”

He watched me, impassive. I kept going.

“You are attached to the House Response Unit of Houston PD, tasked specifically with handling incidents involving Houses. Every member of this unit is assigned a number of families, in which he becomes expert. So, you know perfectly well that I have an older sister and that she is currently out of the country. You know the names of every person in our family, their birth dates, and their magic. You probably know the exact nature of my powers, despite the fact that my records are sealed. You are here because my last name popped up in your system. So please don’t insult my intelligence.”

***

When English Language Is Just Not Enough:

Warning: hilariously odd bad language ahead. Poor Catalina.

Bug served as Rogan’s surveillance specialist. Magically altered, he processed visual information at an astonishing rate. If anybody could find [Redacted], Bug could. He was also fanatically loyal to Rogan.

The moment we involved Bug, Rogan would know every detail of what we asked and why. Then Nevada would know, and, considering the usual colorful way Bug made his reports, there was a strong possibility that she would freak out. Bug found the vast array of curses available to an average English speaker completely inadequate and used every opportunity to add his own, which often amounted to a random collection of expletives that left you befuddled. I could just imagine the way that report would go.

“Hey, so you’ll never believe this dick fart thing: they want me to find [Redacted]. Isn’t that just pork balls? The gnome molester apparently stabbed somebody. Whore dimwit shit brain dungarees!”

***

A Simple Menu:

Since it was my turn to cook breakfast anyway, I headed to the kitchen. Cooking was basically my and Mom’s job. When Nevada lived with us, she was too busy keeping us fed and clothed. Bern and Leon usually made meat, preferably, steak, and they served it charred on top and raw in the middle. Grandma Frida came from the generation when things weren’t cooked unless they were slightly burned, and my younger sister, who was actually a decent cook, when she had to be, couldn’t be trusted to stay in the kitchen for the duration of the cooking process. She’d start something and then end up outside texting to her friends or in the media room laughing at some show, while we raced to save the meal.

I decided on a simple menu. I put two packs of bacon into two baking pans and popped them in the oven, mixed the batter for the blueberry pancakes, and called Nevada while chopping mushrooms for the egg, mushroom, and cheese scramble.

***

Just You Wait:

My cell rang. An unlisted number. Oh good. Ten to one, somebody wanted to sell me super-special medical insurance or inform me that the IRS was about to arrest me unless I dropped everything and bought an armful of gift cards at Wal-Mart.

I answered it. “What is it?”

“You’re tracking me,” Alessandro said.

Runa’s eyes went big.

“I am not tracking you,” I told him. Technically, it wasn’t even a lie.

“You’re having me tracked. I understand that I’m irresistible. It’s a cross I bear. But do try to have some self-control, Catalina. I’m embarrassed for you.”

He… Argh. “As I recall, I never had a problem resisting you.”

“I thought we agreed that you would drop this.”

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Catalina, listen to me. This is serious, the people involved are dangerous, and your well-being is important to me.”

Since when? “Why don’t you tell me more about it? Maybe if I fully understand the danger, I’ll stay out of it.”

“No, you won’t. You have no sense.”

“I have all kinds of sense.”

“This is your last warning, Catalina.”

“Or what?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”

He hung up.

“I have all kinds of sense?” Runa quoted.

“I was too mad to think of a snappy comeback.”

I glared at the phone. Insufferable ass. When I got my hands on him, I would pry his mind open like a tin can. And then I would make him do a little dance, record it, and play it for him on a loop after I drained my magic off. Irresistible. I’ll show you irresistible. Just you wait.

***

A Pithivier:

Steps sounded behind me. I turned. Runa caught up with us. “Matilda said you would be out here. That child is odd.”

More like unsettling, until you got to know her. “She’s an animal mage. They are unique. Did something bad happen?”

“You mean in addition to everything else? No.”

We both watched Shadow sniffing at cracks in the asphalt.

“Whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells amazing. What are we having?”

“Lemon roasted chicken with rosemary baked potatoes, chive butter, kale and brussels sprout salad with tahini maple dressing, and an apple pithivier.”

Runa gave me a long look.

“I cook when I’m stressed out. It sounds more complicated than it is. In reality, it’s mostly season things, dump them in a baking pan, and stick them in the oven.”

“What’s a P.T.V.A.?”

“It’s a French pie-cake made with puff pastry. The traditional version uses rum and almonds, but nobody likes rum, so I make mine with apples.”

***

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wintermansion · 6 years

Text

September 19th, Monday 10:00 a.m. The Winter Mansion

Vallis opens her eyes. She had such a weird dream. She sits up and rubs at her eyes as the sunlight pushes in from the windows to her left side. She looks forward to see herself in a room she is unfamiliar with. She springs to her feet with the recollection of what had happened! Right, she was in an accident last night!

She looks at the grandfather clock by the door to the foyer to see that it is already ten in the morning. She is not one to sleep in so she quickly stands and folds her covers and sets them neatly on the lounge in a pile before flying out of the door.

Before she arrives to the exit of the room the door opens to reveal a young man. He has orange curls that fall over his brows to render pretty and deep green eyes. He stands before her, but jumps back with surprise, “Oh!” His expression softens once he finds familiarity in her face. His face then graces a handsome smile, “You must be our guest, Vallis, of course?” he asks with a sweet tone, but he doesn’t give her a chance to answer, “I am Deidre.”

He has a full body shape. He has broad shoulders and strong looking arms. He is incredibly tall, six feet and four inches. His nose has a slight arch to it, and his face is round and a little childish. He has soft freckles on the bridge of his nose. He has thick eyelashes, fine brows, and thin lips. He has a slight beard on his chin, but it is very thin and nearly nonexistent.

“Yes. I’m sorry, but I am in a hurry. I have to get my things and get to the school in less than two hours!” she feels her anxiety beginning to win. She fears failing the term that is not hers to be throwing away. She is at the top of her class and must stay there to keep her scholarships. She cannot afford any slipups.

“Calm down,” he laughs gently which soothes her a little. “We collected your things this morning.” He waves his hand. “Calli said he’s take you to Waverly as soon as you woke. He is not one to let you be late either.” He assures with complete confidence.

“If you had woken earlier then Wylo would have taken you one his way to work.” The young man shrugs. “I’m also a student at Waverly.” He explains to her. “I’m a fourth year so this is my last year.” He smiles with gentle excitement. “You must be a student as well?”

She nods, “I’m a third year.”

“Cool! That explains why I haven’t seen you before.” Waverly is a very large campus. It is hard to see anyone outside their grade within the school year unless one ventures to find someone from outside their grade or major or magic style.

Someone walks down the stairs of the foyer as Deidre finally stops blocking the doorway. “Good, you have woken,” Calliope smiles, “and met Deidre as well. He was going to walk to school, but I will be taking you now. Normally Wylomin would have taken him, but today he was needed to go earlier than usual.” He gestures to the door he had used last night on the left wall, “You should eat some breakfast. Your items have been retrieved and placed in the back of the carriage, but you should check your things before we set off.” He informs her.

“I would have woken you to join us,” Calliope continues, “but you looked so comfortable…” that means he saw her sleeping – she blushes. He continues, “You also had quite the hike last night. I am glad to have let you rest. You were not dressed for that terrible storm and most definitely you should not have been traveling up that terrible slope on your own.” He sounds concerned over her, though the moment has already passed and she is safe now.

Calliope looks at Deidre, “Why don’t you put your cooking skills to good use and make Miss Vallis something to eat? I have to run a quick errand in the office.” He whispers to the younger, but much taller, man.

Deidre smiles and nods eagerly before leading Vallis into the dining room. “Wait here – I will make something really delicious for our special guest!” he leaves her to enter through a different door in the back of the dining room. He is gone for less than half an hour with a plate of golden scrambled eggs with cheese, buttered toast and a side of rouge bacon. “I promise it is good.”

Vallis eats with enjoyment – it is good.

As eleven-thirty rolls around Calliope calls the two students to the foyer. “Are you ready to go?” they nod and climb into the wagon as Calliope guides the horses to head off. The two horses lead them to the bridge and they cross over.

The river below is so perfectly visible and it makes Vallis sick to her stomach from the height. She hates heights, but once they pass the bridge her nausea settles again. They pass the town and arrive to the campus on the peak of the mountain.

“I will wait here for you, Deidre.” Calliope says as he pulls the bags down for Vallis. “He does not live on campus – they are too expensive. He is the nephew of the estate we are staying at.” He explains, “Deidre really only pays for food, while the rest of us pay a regular rent.”

“So you are living there as tenants?” she asks.

Calliope smiles as he nods, “Yes, but the amount is much cheaper than the apartments in town.” He shrugs again, “I like how far it is from town too – it is not so far I cannot find a grocer’s in ten minutes, but not so close I can hear the city life all night.”

Vallis smiles at him as she tries to take up her bags. He pulls them away and says, “I can take them to the office for you – you and Deidre should head off to orientation that is only minutes away from beginning.” He smiles encouragingly.

She nods and eyes the things before grabbing her blue purse, “Thank you, again, Calliope.” She enters the main building with Deidre who makes small talks the whole way to the auditorium in the back of the main building. “This building is said to have been around back when the dragons and gods were still in peace with one another. That means that this building was built in the Yorin Era and is over a thousand years old–.” He is full of interesting history facts.

He stops talking suddenly and waves his hand at a young man close to the front of the auditorium by the stage. “That’s Eirand – I have to run.” He leaves her, but she is fine with his absence, she has her own friends after all.

She quickly finds both Ausi and Lindi. She takes a seat with them as they ask, “Where were you last night? We waited at the inn for you, but you never showed up.” That was their plan – to split a room together. Ausi is from a prominent family so she offered to pay for half of the room on her own. Lindi and Vallis were going to split the second half.

“Sorry, my carriage turned over and I didn’t even arrive to town until now.” She informs, knowing what worrywarts they are.

“Oh thank the gods you’re well!” Ausi is very protective of her friends. She is also a devout follower of the gods over that of the dragons. She prays to them constantly – Vallis can only imagine how many prayers she said last night when Vallis never arrived.

“Yes – sorry about last night. I can still pay for half of the room.” Vallis reaches for her purse, but stops when Lindi and Ausi shake their heads at her.

“No – I paid for two thirds of the room. It’s fine.” Ausi pulls Vallis into a warm hug. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

Lindi is the loud beauty of their group who loves to gossip. Vallis is the awkward, quiet and smart girl in their little trio. It is just her role with them. It is the way she has always been. The lights go out in the auditorium and the headmaster takes the stage with the only light on him.

He quickly goes over the rules like he does every year and the expectations he has for them. It is the same every year so Lindi ignores him and turns in her seat. She flirts with one of the feral racer behind her, Sidiun.

He is her boyfriend so naturally he leans forward in his own seat and flirts back. He occasionally steals kisses from her, making his friends chuckle or attempt ignoring them. Their public displays of affection are very common behavior. Lindi is one of the prettiest girls around with her attractive body shape. Sidiun is very popular as well, but he is a year ahead of them.

Ausi attempts to ignore them until they begin making-out and making a lot of rather distressing sucking sounds. “Ugh,” Ausi lets out a sharp breath of disgust. “Will you two cut it out?” she chastises. She turns around, giving them a cold glare, but then turns completely red in her face when her scowl meets one of Sidiun’s friends instead of Sidiun who had already leaned back and away from his girl.

Malvori narrows his eyes on Ausi for nearly hissing at him. Ausi retreats by turning forward like she didn’t even look at him. Her face is a deep red – it is just fate for her to upset the genius. She does on accident on a weekly basis without ever intending to.

Vallis smiles weakly at her, “It’s all right, Ausi.”

“It is so not okay.” They are all third years, except for Sidiun who is a fourth year now. He is there on scholarship, which means he does not really have to pay for a room, board or lesson, so long as he performs well in his racing while on the school feral team.

Vallis had heard he lost his captain position to a seasoned racer – a professional racer, but she isn’t entirely sure how true that rumor is. It did come from Lindi as she was pouting over it last year so the honesty is in question. She heard that the racer that replaced him is well-known across the country. She cannot remember his name though – Dasiel, Laudre? She can’t remember.

Vallis is on a scholarship as well, but hers does not cover room and board. She has to pay for that with her government allowance. It is a long story and she pulls her mind from the sad thoughts that are about to erupt.

Once the required orientation is over they are dismissed to pay for their room and board plans or to collect their keys. “I hope we’re roomed together this year, Vallis!” Ausi gushes with excitement. She always hopes to get Vallis since Lindi is a sink hog.

All rooms have a sink. All halls have a washroom, but not a single room has its own bathroom. There are different food plans and Ausi always gets the best food plan because she won’t eat food that is not fresh. Vallis has learned to make do with the less than desirable meals.

“Vallis!” someone calls after her. She turns to look and finds Deidre chasing after her. “I can help you get your things from the office and to you room before I leave. I have some time to spare since Calliope left off to finish an errand in town.” He smiles so sweetly it makes her blush from the innocence behind it.

“Who is this, Vallis?” Ausi asks while Lindi and Sidiun make-out by the door out of the auditorium. One can claim they missed each other after being apart the whole summer, but they can’t ever keep their hands off of one another so that would not be the truth.

“Deidre,” Vallis answers.

“As in Deidre Yantz?” her friend asks with surprise.

Yantz – why does that name ring a bell? Vallis looks at him, unsure if that is his surname or not. He never gave it to her, after all.

He blushes deeply with discomfort, “Uh… yeah–.” He scratches the back of his head.

“He’s that pro-feral racer who places for the school team. The new captain that replaced Sidiun last year.” her friend explains when she realizes that Vallis has no idea who he is just by name.

Yantz – that’s why she knew that name!

He blushes deeper, “Uh… yeah, lucky for me the school is lenient on my absences so I may be able to compete in my pro-races.” Feral racing is just barely getting big. The pay is not great, but everyone is certain that the best racers will be paid better in just a few short years. They will be like celebrities – like the actor Comman Carr and the singer Visita Hallaway.

“How do you know him?” Ausi presses in a soft whisper so he won’t hear her. Deidre blushes again so he definitely heard her well enough. Ausi said it really softly though so his hearing must be exceptionally sharp.

“I met him this morning,” which is not a lie, and she made certain to answer in a normal volume because it is not a secret. Deidre has been very kind to her and exempting him from the conversation seems oddly rude.

They arrive to the office to collect her bags and Deidre carries the bulk of it for her. They head to the table for the rooms and Vallis digs through her purse in search of her wallet, but it is not here. She looks at the tall young man, “Deidre?”

He meets her violet gaze, “Yeah, Vallis?” he says in a rather chill tone.

“When you guys gathered my things…” her voice trails off with worry, “was there a small black wallet among the items?” she picks up a few of the things in Deidre’s arms as she searches among her things.

People pass her in the line as she motions them to skip her. Deidre looks pensive at the items in his arms as she searches them. He shakes his head, “No, but Keffa was in some kind of hurry this morning. We… may have overlooked it.” His voice softens with some guilt.

Vallis nods as she hears his words. “My money for the term was in there.” Now she get frantic as it dawns on her what that means. “I need my wallet.” She races out of the doors, leaving Deidre carrying her things. He drops her things as gently as he can before chasing her and catching her wrist gently in his hand. His legs are much longer than hers so he caught up to her very quickly.

“Where are you going, Val?” he demands, giving her a pet name rather casually. “Well?” the slight impact of his catch forced her to spin into his chest. She bumps him lightly, but she is still so caught up in her thoughts to even realize it.

“I need to get my purse–!” he is a foot taller than her so she has to crane her neck back to meet his gaze like she is searching for the stars in the sky.

“So what–, you’re going all the way down to the first mountain to collect it?” he challenges with annoyance. “Don’t be reckless!” he chastises, suddenly appearing very mature in comparison to his goofier personality.

“Reckless?!” she demands angrily, “I have no money for bed or food! Where am I being reckless?” anger bites her eyes with furious tears.

It is obvious that he does not handle anger very well as he withdraws his hand and looks to the ground with unease. “I didn’t mean to upset you… I just don’t want you to get hurt.” His voice trails off again.

A man’s voice cuts the awkward silence between them. “Deidre, what are you doing there?”

Deidre is grateful for the interruption and he looks to the stranger. “Wylo!” he nearly sighs with happiness. ‘Wylo’ approaches them. He is tall, yet nowhere near as tall as Deidre. He is six feet and an inch tall. His hair is a pretty dark brown and his eyes a tone closer to caramel than actual brown. His skin is lightly tanned, like baked sands.

He is a little on the gangly side with small shoulders and a tiny waist. He is handsome though, even if in a bit of an awkward way. His face is elegant and sharp, but his eyes are as serious as Kantu’s, but a little bigger.

He glances at Vallis and says, “Are you the young maiden who borrowed our lounge last night?” he asks with honest curiosity.

She nods slowly as she looks away, “Please excuse me. I have somewhere I must go–.” She begins to walk away, leaving behind her luggage. They will still be there when she returns either way.

Deidre cuts her off, “You can at least leave your things in the office before more things go missing.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “Besides – by the time you get there by foot the office will close for the evening. We can just ask Calli if we can make a stop there for you.”

“I have already asked a lot from you.” She whispers.

“From what I understand everyone has offered to help you and you have not asked for anything.” ‘Wylo’ mutters. “Calliope went to turn in a late draft and the office has not let him leave yet. He called me at the office to ask that I take you home in his stead.” His hazel eyes shift to meet her gaze, “But I can take you.”

He looks at Deidre, “If it is the carriage we were at this morning then Deidre is correct. It will take you all day and night before you arrive back at the academy. By then the offices will be closed and no rooms will be available for the semester.” This is the one day to get a room for the term, if she can’t then she will have to find an apartment in town and those can be expensive.

‘Wylo’ takes them back to the mansion in the wagon, leaving behind his horse for Calliope to take back. The mansion looks much lovelier during the day time. It has white stone siding, orange roof tiles and topiary shrubs decorating the pathway that matches the roof in color and shape.

‘Wylo’ pulls the horses to a stop as they reach the mostly closed in porch before the doors. “Please change out the horses, Deidre. They are tired from the ride and wait at the school grounds.”

Deidre pulls loose the horses from the wagon and leads them around the back to collect fresh horses.

‘Wylo’ looks at Vallis and says, “I’m going in to get Kantu to help us. He purposefully missed breakfast this morning just to not help us – that indolent.” He then looks at Vallis and says, “I’m Wylomin, by the way, Miss Vallis.”

She nods as he turns and leaves – she is tired already. Her anxiety is knocking the life right out of her.

Kantu and Wylomin exit the house together. Kantu is wearing that same sourpuss expression on his face. He climbs into the back of the wagon with his arms crossed, “Can we get this shit over with?”

“That is no way to speak before a lady, Kantu.” Wylomin chastises. “Besides, we do not have any horses and we cannot very well leave this way, unless you know how to use telekinesis or teleportation?”

“Do I look like Deidre or Calliopes – no, I can’t use kinesis or teleportation.” Kantu growls angrily at the older man.

Deidre returns leading two horses. They do not appear to have their harnesses on properly and at the sight of the Wylomin sighs. He joins Deidre and tightens the harnesses and the attaches them to the wagon.

“Sorry – I’m good with cycles, but horses have a mind of their own. That one tried to bite me!” He points accusingly to a pretty black horse accusingly with some surprise and fear still on his face.

“That’s Fate – he’s always like that.” Wylomin rubs the black steeds nuzzle before climbing onto the wagon. “Are you coming along, Deidre?”

Deidre smiles big and nods, “Yeah – it was my suggestion so I better see it through!” he climbs into the back of the wagon with the testy Kantu and takes a seat by Vallis. Deidre smiles big at Kantu and he in return narrows his eyes more than Vallis thought was even possible without closing them.

Wylomin drives them down the mountain to where workers dig the snow and rocks from the blocked road. They wave to Wylomin as he approaches them to ask about the incident. Kantu and Deidre begin to search through the rental carriage.

Vallis searched the rubble behind the carriage where she finds a scarf. It is not hers though. She pulls it loose from the branch it is tangled on and sees elegant embroidery of someone’s initials in the corner, ‘G.M.’. She looks around for anything else, but there is nothing of interest.

“What happened to the driver?” Kantu asks her as he lowers himself into the carriage. The door is facing up towards the sky instead of the side where it should be.

“I don’t really know. When I woke up he was already gone.” She answers as she folds the scarf and leaves it aside.

“He left you here alone?” he asks without looking at her. She merely shrugs as he mutters, “What an ass.” He leaves her sight as he returns to searching within the carriage.

Deidre searches the piled snow near the carriage.

“Found it!” Kantu climbs out of the carriage holding a black wallet in his hands. “It was caught under the opposite door through the window – it is not surprised is was missed.” He jumps out and holds it out to her once his feet are on the ground again. “Here – can we go now?” he says with agitation. “I have things I want to get done today.”

Wylomin is still talking to the workers, “Is that so? That is very mysterious.” His voice travels to them.

Vallis accepts the wallet from him. She snaps it open to check the contents within. She ignores the folded note to see that her money is still within it. “Oh, thank the gods!” she pulls it to her chest and smiles big at Kantu. “Thank you so much! I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to pay for my room and board at Waverly!”

Kantu rubs the back of his head awkwardly. His face is a little red, “That was what the rush was about?” he looks at the sky and then at her. He whispers, “I guess… you’re welcome.” He glances at Wylomin as he finally returns to them. “Hey, we found it already, let’s get going!” he marches off like he is angry, but Vallis doesn’t quite believe it this time.

Wylomin smiles, “That’s good. We should head back to Waverly so she can pay for her room and board now.” He climbs into the wagon. “I was just asking about the avalanche.” He explains to them.

“Humph, I didn’t ask.” Kantu grumbles.

“The point here is that they can’t find a natural cause for it having happened.” Wylomin ignores the angry jab. He just answers Kantu like he has asked a question anyway – it is almost like he is accustomed to Kantu’s attitude and sass.

“That’s strange,” Deidre perks up.

“Yes, the security inspector is currently investigating it. He fears that it was caused by magic, but they’re not too sure what anyone would gain from it happening.” Wylomin shrugs.

As they near the town Kantu looks at his watch on his wrist and mutters, “We’re going to hit a lot of traffic at this hour.” And surely enough they did hit traffic. Wylomin attempts to take a side path, instead of the main road, but a turned over vendor cart causes a road block.

They end up returning to the main road only to wait out the traffic and busy street. Wylomin tries to keep an impassive expression, but the anger starts to show on his face the longer they are caught in the same spot.

“I am worried about the offices closing before we return.” Wylomin whispers, trying not to upset Vallis, but she still hears him.

Deidre tries to distract her with small talk, “I like that professor! He takes time for his students, or at least the ones that he knows are trying really hard to pass his classes.”

Vallis gives him a wry smile as she tries to keep a happy front, “I had heard about him so I wanted to get a class with him, but I am most excited about taking a class with Professor Holland again.”

“Professor Farker Holland?” Deidre’s face literally lights up with happiness. “He was my basics teacher my freshman year – he’s the best!”

“He was my basics teacher too! I was excited when I heard he was promoted and moved up because it meant I would get another class with him.” Vallis says cheerfully with talk of the friendly teacher.

“I wanted to take his class – but he wasn’t one of my required credits so I had to drop the class and take a different one.” He frowns. “I ended up having to take another summoning course and then the second term of that year I had to take a business basics class.”

“You had to take a business basics class – why is that? Are you majoring in business?” Vallis is so she knows all of the professors in the department by now. Most are very tough, but some are a little more lenient because they are a basics course.

“No – I’m majoring in engineering and minoring in physical development with a specialization in summoning magic.” All students have to specialize in a magic type, but they are only required to take one magic course per semester. “Wylomin is teaching there too.”

“I meant to ask about that.” Vallis looks at the man as he steers the horse towards the school.

Wylomin smiles as he answers, “I majored in business and minored in magic studied with a specialization in light magic.” He nods his head to Kantu, “This one here only specialized in dark magic.”

Kantu looks away with discomfort of having the topic changed to him. He snorts before muttering, “It is the only thing I managed to complete while at the school.”

Deidre smiles, “By choice.”

They arrive to the school before she can press for more answers. Wylomin slows the horses to a stop and jumps down. He puts his arms out for Vallis, “We should hurry.”

Vallis puts her hands against his wrist, but then slides them down to his elbow to hold tighter. He takes hold of her waist and spins her around to place her gently and quickly on the concrete path. “Wait here, Kantu and Deidre!” he catches her hand and pulls her behind him up the path.

They enter the main building of the school just as a woman exits the offices. “Ariza,” Wylomin races to her, releasing Vallis’s fingers as they arrive to her. “Are you closing for the day?”

The stout woman smiles at him before saying, “Nearly done – I need to organize the new room information.” She glances at Vallis, “Who is this young beauty walking with our handsome bachelor?” she winks at him. She was an older woman that Vallis only really knows as Ms. Huff.

“She’s actually why I am here at this hour, Ariza.” He smiles at her, “Any available room?” he crosses his arms before him, showing his concern at last. It is a reflex. He hadn’t meant to show his discomfort and worry.

“What year is she in?” Ms. Huff turns to tape a piece of paper on the door of the office.

Vallis answers, “I’m a third year.”

Ms. Huff frowns as she directs to the paper she just taped. On the paper it reads ‘No Rooms Available Years 3 & 4’. “She will have to find a dorm mother in town.”

Wylomin frowns lightly, “Those can be so expensive.” He pauses quickly as he does the math, “Miried’s is the cheapest I can think of and she charges a weekly fee of five-hundred terrots.” He shakes his head, “And it we assume she is here for the break between the terms that would cost her…” he does the math quickly, “Four-thousand for a single term. That is not including three squares meals a day.

“Unless she rooms at one of the pricier places that charges four-thousand per month with full meals.” He sighs in annoyance at the thought of Vallis having to go through that.

“I am sorry, Wylomin.” She smiles sadly at him. “I had more singles than usual. We normally only have about ten girls per year that buy a room for themselves, but this year a good deal of them paid over double the cost for a room of their own. Third years become more independent after all.”

“I am not upset at you, Ariza.” He assures, pushing away her apology politely. He looks at Vallis, “Do you want to try one of the dorm mothers in town?”

Vallis, when Wylomin was dropping numbers, checked her wallet before frowning. She never has any money for that. She looks at him and smiles as sincerely as she can before saying, “It’s rather late. Is it okay if I stay with a friend for the night, Ms. Huff?”

Ms. Huff stares at her, “In the school dorms?”

Vallis nods.

“Just one night – we have rules about staying in a room that is not yours.”

Vallis nods again, “Thank you.” She looks at Wylomin, “Again, thank you. I can walk to town tomorrow after classes to find a dorm mother.” She nods to him, “I will be fine – it was a pleasure to meet you.”

He bows a little, which is a common gesture among the more prominent families. Why would someone of a prominent family be a teacher though, “I will see you around.” He turns and leaves their side. When he arrive to the door out he steals a last glance at her over his shoulder. He nods again before stepping out.

“Which room is your friend in?” Ms. Huff asks.

“I’m not too sure…” Vallis admits.

Ms. Huff smiles again, “I figured as much. Come on, let’s go find out.” She says encouragingly as she leads her into the office. They take a seat at the pile of papers, “What is her name, dear?”

“Ausi Palace or Lindi Freed.”

Ms. Huff digs through the pile on her desk. “This may take a while. I have not yet had the chance to put them away properly.” She warns as she sifts through the files. After half an hour she finds one of them. “Oh, Ausi Palace!” she smiles victoriously. “It appears that your friends are roomed together.”

Vallis puts her hands to her chest. She just realized what a hassle it would be to ask for that favor if their roommate was not someone she is familiar with. “That is good.”

“Follow me. I will take you there.” Ms. Huff stands and allows Vallis to collect her things from the office. She leads her towards the dormitory and after walking up two flights of stairs she lets out a breath of tiredness. “I cannot do this as well as I used to. It shows you what age does to one.” She laughs lightly, but they continue on.

She leads Vallis down a narrow hall on the third floor. She knocks on the fifth door in, “Miss Palace and Miss Freed – I have someone here to see you.” The door opens slowly to reveal the pretty blonde in her rather revealing nightgown. She probably bought that to impress Sidiun.

“Ms. Huff,” Lindi smiles. Her eyes land on Vallis past the stout woman, “Oh, my, Vallis!” she catches her friend by the hands and holds her tight. “We waited for you to return!” she has concern in her pretty voice. “Ausi finally said we needed to get lunch and just wait for you to give us notice of what happened. Did you find your wallet?”

Vallis nods, “Yes, but… I hate to intrude… but may I stay the night with you? I have to find a dorm mother of apartment tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to ask twice!” Ausi runs to the door and pulls Vallis in with her luggage. “Thank you, Ms. Huff, we will help her tomorrow after classes.” She pulls Vallis into a tight hug, “You are just having the worst start, love.” She rubs Vallis’s arms gently.

Ms. Huff nods, “Sleep well girls.” She leaves and Lindi closes the door behind her.

The moment the doors close Ausi says, “Will you be able to afford a dorm mother?” her two friends are just few of the ones who understand her personal situation.

Vallis gives her a smile, but she doubts the truth behind her words. “Yes,” especially since she is about to tell a lie, “They’re giving me a little more money than they used to.” It is less – a lot less. The government had a bit of a cutback so she lost about five grand of the amount she normally is given in the year for her studies.

They remove the mattresses from the springs and places them side-by-side on the floor between them. They sleep together glad to finally be together again. A summer away has always been difficult for the three friends who have known each other since they were children. Vallis used to be of money, but that was a long time ago.

Things changed when she was fifteen, six years ago now. She had to get scholarships to continue her studies. It has been very difficult and the stress has caused for to suffer anxiety. She is at Waverly studying business, because she wants to work at the company her father began in his youth.

#world of magic #fantasy #my writing #writing on tumblr #romance #young adult

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benjamingarden · 4 years

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This Month On The Farm: October 2020

Our first snow has arrived!! Ok, so it was only about an inch, but, nonetheless, it arrived on the second to the last day of October. And with it came some significantly colder weather including our first below 30 degree night.

While the majority of our summer garden ended in September, we were the happy recipients of additional garden goodness throughout October in the form of cabbage, broccoli, green beans, squash, beets, carrots, peppers, tomatoes (the first half of the month), and herbs. Needless to say, our freezers are chock full.

Garden Wins And Fails

Let's start with the fails and get those right out of the way. Eggplant, for some reason, did not do well for me this year. I've never ever had an issue with it but 2020 was no ordinary year. Cucumbers, too, did not produce well for some reason. I've always struggled with melons, and this year, of course, was no different. They did ok, not great. And, of course, because of the early-on visits by the whistle pig (with the enormous appetite) who adored all things green, we had a rough start with greens, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and carrots. Many eventually came back and others were replanted.

And the wins...... My peppers did outstanding this year as did my squash, tomatoes, beans, peas, sweet potatoes, and pretty much everything else in the garden. Partial credit, I'm sure, goes to the soil that we continue to amend. Partial credit also goes to the fact that I had time to weed, pick bugs, water, and do all of the things that make a garden happy.

On October 30th, the night temps dipped into the 20's, so I pulled of all remaining veg except for greens (kale, chard, arugula, mustard, and loose leaf lettuce). I've left them growing but we did not get our tunnel made for the raised bed they are in so, unfortunately, I don't think they'll last long with just a cloth row cover.

Oliver & Jackson

Well, back to the specialty veterinary clinic we go.....

Poor Ollie has been having some issues, come to find out he has multiple herniated discs. He is doing well and it's nice to know what we're dealing with instead of guessing. Initially we all thought (us and his neurologist) that he may have a brain tumor like Emerson as well, but it was ruled out with an MRI (thankfully!).

And then there's Jack. Wouldn't you know that Mr. Jackson has a heart murmur, discovered at his annual check-up, and is now scheduled to see a cardiologist? That guy must have been jealous that Oliver got to travel to see specialists...... Unfortunately they are booked until February, so as long as he doesn't show any signs of distress, he will go at that time (they will get him in as an emergency if need be).

We expected this would likely come at some point as one of his litter mates has had some heart issues for a few years and is now on medications to keep it under control. So, Jack will, at the very least, have annual appointments with a cardiologist to keep an eye on his heart. And in case you're wondering, no, his heart murmur does not stop him from harassing Oliver or biting our toes at night.

Some things will never change.

delicious apple cake

In The Kitchen

We haven't been out to eat or purchased food to-go since February so our kitchen stays quite busy. Breakfasts remain fairly simple although I did make Cinnamon Swirl Bread and Blueberry Scones this month, just because. For lunch we didn't make the switch to soups because of the moderate temps. Instead, we continued to use the outdoor grill, make quick sandwiches or salads, and of course enjoy leftovers.

Dinners were fairly standard since we've been busy with our soap business. I did try this recipe for Chicken Fajita Rice for Jay and he loved it.

For dessert I tried this Apple Cake recipe and it is soooooo good. As I've noted before, we very rarely use processed sugar, however, we do make exceptions from time-to-time and this cake is worth it. I did cut the brown sugar used in the actual cake batter in half because I knew it would be way too sweet for us. It was still definitely more then plenty sweet in our opinion. I also substituted out the egg, used oat milk & vinegar for the buttermilk, vegan butter, and reduced the oil to make it something I would eat as well, but I'm positive if you are interested in making the recipe exactly as is it will be amazing.

Jay has asked if it could be made for Thanksgiving so I will be whipping another one up today!

In The Coop

Absolutely nothing is happening in the coop. The girls enjoy their feed and snacks but are still on their egg laying break. Jay has been rationing his egg consumption and we did purchase a dozen eggs from our farmer's market a few weeks back so he could make omelets and scrambled eggs frivolously. At that time we were getting 3-5 eggs per week but now we are getting none. So we will be buying them again....

What I've Been Reading

I've continued to enjoy reading in the evenings. I have realized that there are a few new (to me) authors whose writing I love - K.A. Tucker, Elizabeth Berg, Louise Miller, and Heather Webber. All write very differently but I just really enjoy what I've read by each of them so far.

Here are some of my favorites read this month. Actually I LOVED each of these (affiliate links):

The Simple Wild: A Novel and the second in the series Wild At Heart: A Novel - by K.A. Tucker (the third and final in the series is available December 1st)

Say You Still Love Me: A Novel - by K.A. Tucker

The Last Time I Saw You: A Novel - by Elizabeth Berg

The Late Bloomer's Club: A Novel - by Louise Miller

Midnight At The Blackbird Cafe: A Novel - by Heather Webber

One that I was surprised to really like, because it's not a book I would have normally chosen, was Maybe You Should Talk To Someone by Lori Gottlieb. I really enjoyed it and am so glad that I read it.

If you have some favorites that you would recommend, I would love for you to leave it in the comments!

soap curing on the shelves

The Soap & Skincare Business

We are incredibly blessed to be quite busy despite the craft shows being cancelled and having limited tourists in our town to shop at our weekly farmer's market. Our online store continues churn out the orders and our local regulars continue to come out. And, the holiday Artisan Market at a museum one town over is going to be able to open so we are thrilled to have our products there again this year.

Our farmer's market usually moves indoors in November, however, we are trying to stay outside as long as possible this year. It's been chilly, I'm not going to lie. A couple of Sundays ago we barely made it to 40 degrees and this past Sunday we were at, I believe, 41 degrees. We did invest in a portable heater that is fueled by propane so that will be nice. We can put our tent walls up and turn on the heater to get warm. It's nice because it gives shoppers much more space to shop and makes them feel a lot more comfortable as our areas COVID numbers continue to rise.

Although this post was about 2 weeks late, I wanted to give you an October update. Thank you to those of you who have reached out asking for this and other posts. I'm hoping to get back to posting more often soon! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we certainly have a tremendous amount to be thankful for. Although we usually host a small gathering for friends, we will be celebrating just the two of us (and critters of course) this year. It will be a great day off (except for cooking) that we've looked forward to.

Wishing you all a wonderful Thanksgiving!!

This Month On The Farm: October 2020 was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)

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theblessed-unrest · 5 years

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Vegetarian Recipes I 💖

I’m starting a new thread for #Gabcooks because during my 6-month exchange in Vancouver, I’ve developed a passion for food and appreciation beyond simply the end product on my plate. There’s just something about being in the fields, plucking out fruit from the land, food compost being a common sight and feeling the vulnerability and fragility of fresh produce that makes you want to whip up the best meals you can with what you have and to demand the same from places you dine at. It makes me think, perhaps this is why there is a dearth of excellent, world-class food places in Singapore, apart from hawker food - where then again, the best places are usually run by older folks (who I hypothesise had more interaction with their food before they were turned into food?) Millennials these days keep opening cafes with eye-roll inducing, run-off-the-mill menus. (Did someone say avocado toast with eggs benedict? I swear, if someone says describes a cafe as “insta-worthy” again I will wring them dry...)

Food security is something many developed countries have began to take for granted and you can see this from the amount of food wasted in these countries. Research by the Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations (FAO) has shown that food waste by consumers is more common in high-income countries (FAO, 2019). Especially in urbanised settings like Singapore (which generated 763,100 tonnes of food waste in 2018), where many have not even stepped into a farm their entire lives, Wendell Berry’s word never rang truer. He writes that “cultural amnesia” regarding the origins of our food is rampant. Not only does food waste have negative environmental impacts (GHGs, carbon/land/water footprints), but it just seems like a really dumb problem to have by virtue of how easy the solution is: basically to estimate rightly and buy the right amount of food you need. Everyone benefits because you save money while not having to go out of your way to save the environment.

Regarding this point, I found the figures interesting for the main food groups and their associated contribution to carbon/land/water footprints. In this regard, all food groups (not just meat and animal products!) can equally contribute to food waste, so this applies to even vegans/vegetarians. The bottomline is, no matter what you eat, don’t waste it.

(Source: FAO, 2019)

But cutting out food waste is just one part of the equation. We need to do more.

I can’t commit to veganism just yet, but here’s my hot take: I think the world will benefit with majority of people incorporating more eco-friendly and zero waste lifestyle habits (imperfectly) rather than a few people practicing through and through veganism. So I guess I am a “Reducetarian” in a sense. Multiple resources have pointed to reduction of meat intake as the essential to avoiding a climate crisis, with a recent study by Oxford showing that just going vegan for two-thirds of your meals can cut down food-related GHG emissions by 60%! And of course, eating less red meat is good for your health.

As for me, apart from when I’m out with my friends or eating what my mum/helper cooks at home, I will try to get vegetarian food for myself (usually at a mixed rice store). Quoting Wendell Berry again, I too believe that “eating is an agricultural act” and a critical way we can take action to fight climate change (since eating is something we inevitably do every few hours each day).

Many of my friends didn’t believe I could survive on a vegetarian diet on the weekdays when I was in Vancouver, and ask me what I eat then: beans??? (Short answer: no, I believe only 10% of my diet were beans as seen below) So here are some recipes to start with that can help you transition into a plant-based diet while proving that you don’t necessarily sacrifice taste! (Another hot take: thinking that steak belongs in “fancy meal” category and a proof of culinary prowess is the lack of one’s imagination. Any fool, including this writer, can cook a good steak at home after a few tries.)

Recipes

(Source: Bon Appetit)

1. Parmesan-Roasted Cauliflower

I let my family and some friends try this for the first time when I came back and everyone had second/third/fourth helpings... I don’t know how to describe roasted cauliflowers apart from “life-changing”. You’ll never stir fry your cauliflowers again.

(Source: Bon Appetit)

2. Spaghetti Aglio e Olio with Lots of Kale

Super easy weeknight meal to make. Just remember not to hold back on the salt.

(Source: Bon Appetit)

3. Zucchini-Herb Fritters with Garlic Yoghurt

“It tastes like meat!” I rest my case. I had them with cold soba, sautéed swiss chard, julienned cucumber and occasionally, a poached egg. (Also, the garlic yoghurt dip is SO GOOD. I introduced my family to it recently and we’ve been making a new batch every week since.)

4. Wholesome Burrito Bowl

Inspired by a time where my roommate and I paid close to $10 for a burrito bowl in school. Never again. Also if you’re not sold yet, it has guac (!!)

(Source: My Gluten Free Guide)

5. Cheesy Potato Rosti

For 2 servings

Prep time: 10 mins

Cook time: 20 mins

Ingredients:

2 peeled potatoes (I used russets because they were on sale when I made this)

1 tbs olive oil

Salt and pepper

Lemon wedges (squeezed for serving)

Optional: garlic yoghurt (refer to BA’s Zucchini Fritters recipe)

Method:

1) Grate potatoes.

2) Take handfuls of your grated potato and squeeze it out over the sink to remove as much liquid as possible. (Life hack: put it in the fridge while you go and busy yourself with other things for half an hour or so to get it real dehydrated)

3) Heat oil in large frying pan over high heat. Season potato with salt and pepper and place half in pan, distributing it evenly to form a large circle. Press t down with the back of a spatula. Cook for 2 minutes, then turn down the heat to medium and cook for a further 3 minutes.

4) Place a plate upside down on top of the potato and carefully flip the frying pan so that the fried side of the rosti is facing upwards on the plate. Gently slide back into the pan and continue cooking for another 4-5 minutes, turning up the heat for the last minute or so to crisp up the base. Remove from pan. Repeat with remaining potato.

*Notes: You can add on whatever other ingredients you want! I recommend onions and mushrooms. They probably go well with poached eggs and other sautéed vegetables as well.

6. Baked Patatas Bravas with Egg

Inspired after having it at Como Taperia :’-) Make sure to watch the eggs!

7. Chana Masala

Seriously, the secret to good vegetarian food is the spices!! Great with naan.

8. Zucchini Loaf

Zucchini again?? Yes, I somehow managed to procure a hugeass zucchini. Story for another day. Basically kind of like a carrot cake situation but moister because zucchinis have higher water content.

(Source: Epicurious)

9. Burst Cherry Tomato Pasta

Super easy, tasty and fast dinner to whip up (without even having to crack open a jar of pasta sauce!)

10. Crispy Black Bean Tacos with Avocado and Feta

Another really fast, easy and satisfying meal to make. Especially if you have a masher. I use a fork :’’-)

11. Grilled Cheese Sourdough with Caramelised Onions and Scrambled Eggs

I had a phase (during finals) where I was basically exhausting all the possible permutations and combinations of meals you could make from sourdough, cheese and eggs. It was kind of a eureka moment when I thought of adding caramelised onions into your classic grilled cheese sandwich.

For 1 serving

Prep time: 10 mins

Cook time: 35 mins

Ingredients:

1 small onion, or half if large (chopped)

1 tablespoon unsalted butter (softened)

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1 teaspoon sherry vinegar (I used apple cider vinegar)

2 slices of sourdough (or any other bread of choice)

2 slices of cheddar (I mixed in some shredded parmesan as well)

1 large egg

Salt and pepper

Method:

1) Heat half tablespoon of unsalted butter in a large pan over medium heat. When butter is melted, add onions in and cook, stirring occasionally, until dark brown and caramelized, about 15 minutes. Add the vinegar, sugar and 2 tablespoons water, scrapping up any dark bits that have accumulated on the bottom of the pan. Continue to cook until all the liquid has evaporated. Transfer the onions to a bowl.

2) Butter 1 side of each bread slice. Lay 1 slice butter-side down onto pan on medium heat. Top with 1 slices of cheddar, parmesan, a dollop of the onions and 1 more slice of cheddar. Top with another slice of bread, butter-side up.

3) Cook until the cheese begins to melt and the bread is golden brown, 2 to 4 minutes. Flip and continue to cook until golden brown and the cheese is melted through, 2 to 4 minutes. Cut in half.

4) Crack egg into a medium bowl. Add salt and pepper. Whip eggs until completely homogenous and pale yellow in colour, about 30 seconds. Heat butter on pan over medium-low heat. (Can skip this step if your pan is non-stick) Add eggs and cook, undisturbed, until a thin layer of cooked egg appears around the edge of the skillet. Using a spatula and broad sweeping motions, push eggs all the way around the circumference of the skillet, then across the bottom. Continue to push eggs around and across skillet until fluffy and barely set, about 2 minutes; they should still look runny on top. Sprinkle with more pepper if desired. Serve immediately with grilled cheese sandwich.

(Source: Bon Appetit)

12. Spicy Kimchi Tofu Stew

A winter essential. Really comforting to have with rice.

13. Crispy Maple-Soy Glazed Tofu with Soba & Kimchi

A product of making do with whatever I had in the kitchen. Followed this recipe for the crispy maple-soy glazed tofu. Served it with chilled soba and kimchi straight from the fridge, topped with chopped green onions. Flavours actually went really well together.

14. Pumpkin Soup with Cheesy Garlic Bread

A fall essential. Made the cheesy garlic bread from scratch with sourdough, olive oil, minced garlic, green onions and shredded parmesan cheese.

15. Cream of Mushroom Soup with Cheesy Garlic Bread

It was a phase of soup + cheesy garlic bread. I can’t find the recipe I used though... But here’s Bon Appetit’s recipe.

16. Barlett Pear and Goat Cheese Toast

With some chopped roasted almonds and a drizzle of maple syrup, it’s a taste bomb.

17. Cheese-Stuffed Bell Peppers

Great finger food for a party!

18. Baked Eggs with Mushrooms, Cherry tomatoes and Spinach + Toast

Zero cooking needed. Just chop up the ingredients and stick them in the oven (together with some slices of bread for maximum efficiency). Great for lazy dinners or a late night snack.

(Source: Bon Appetit)

19. Pumpkin Loaf with Salted Maple Butter

Loaves are my favourite thing to bake now. I love the flavours in this one - it has fresh ginger!! There’s also very little effort required for maximal output. I can have them for breakfast, snacks and dessert. And they freeze well so future you will thank you too.

#gabcooks #personal #bon appetit #vegetarian #reducetarian #healthy #recipes #cooking #testkitchen

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joonieflower-archive · 7 years

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In the Mood for Love (Jin x Reader) Chapter 3

(Chapter 1 / Chapter 2)

Next morning Seokjin woke up early like he always did to go running. He was a rising actor, having a small but faithful fan base who had come for his looks and stayed for his talent. So he always made sure he was at his top form, not wanting to disappoint anybody about his body when he had ro do a ropless scene- which he always had to do for some reason.

It was so early that the sun hadn’t even fully rised yet, so he didn’t expected none of his roommates to be awake. Nor did he expected to find you cooking breakfasts, your long brown hair bobbing in a high ponytail along with your head, in rhythm to whatever music you were listening through your headphones.

He didn’t made himself know so quickly, having a moment to really look at you without being noticed and without Yoongi barking at him. You were really pretty, even prettier than some of the models he worked with some times. You were tall too, maybe a couple inches smaller than your brother, but tall for a girl, with long legs. Even looking tired and upset, he had to admit you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen.

Seeing you stop mixing the scrambled eggs, looking at the phone buzzing with a incoming phone call in your hands, he decided that it was time to stop being a creep and make himself known.

“Wah, who would’ve thought Yoongi’s own blood was capable of waking up this early. I thought it was in your genetic code to hate mornings.” His loud voice had made you almost drop your phone, that now you had brought along with you hand to your heart while you cursed low.

Seokjin had to resist the urge to laugh at you.

“Jin-ssi.” You breathed in relief, knowing that your life wasn’t in danger. “I thought i was the only one awake. Have you been there for long? Did you eat yet?”

He leaned against the kitchen countertop beside your. The phone had started buzzing again, making you sigh, throwing him dangerously near the sink.

“I didn’t. Aren’t you gonna answer that?” he asked, eyeing the pink device.

You bitted your lower lip, looking a little embarrassed again. “That’s Jaebum, so no, not gonna answer. I wouldn’t even know what to say. Do you like eggs?”

He nodded, sitting at the kitchen island. He had always found the kitchen to be the best thing in this apartment, maybe the most spacious he had seen in Seoul. You didn’t find kitchens this big in central Seoul anymore, so he appreciated it even more. He still didn’t know how Yoongi didn’t charged more for rent, with all the space the apartment had.

He watched as you easily found where everything was, having to remind himself that you used to live here before. The room that was always locked was actually yours, answering one of his biggest questions since he moved in. He had always assumed that the room was just somewhere where Yoongi kept the body’s of the people he murdered hidden.

“I assume you are the reason why there’s real food in this house?” You asked after setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, filling his coffee mug. You looked right, being in there, he thought. In the well loved kitchen, the early morning sunlight hitting the top of your cheekbones, setting a golden filter through the whole room. “God knows Yoongi oppa and Tae only eat junk food.”

“Yeah,” he answered before chewing. It tasted exactly the way he liked, the right amount of salt and butter. “They wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t for me. I have to make them coffee everyday when I wake up.”

She chewed on her food a little more before speaking again.

“Why are you awake so early, anyway? Do you have somewhere to be or is it an actor thing? I googled you, by the way. You have a lot of fans already, I was impressed.”

He stopped chewing, blurting with his mouth still full, “You googled me??”

You looked awfully entertained by his reaction, your hand covering your smile again, just like last night. Jin felt a little disappointed at not seeing your smile again, but he pushed it to the side for now. You scoffed lightly at him. “What did you expected? I had to know who I was sharing the same roof with. You’re very photogenic by the way. Your selfies are great.”

“God that’s so embarrassing!” whined Jin, hiding his face behind his hands. “You should’ve just asked me what you wanted to know, I would’ve even shown you my best selfies. What else did you found?”

You shrugged, wiping your mouth delicately with a napkin. “Nothing much. Just that you have nice abs and great singing voice. Oh, and that you apparently blink with your left eye when you’re hungry, which is ridiculous. Is that even true?”

Jin looked at you, seeming more hurt than he should. “Yeah it’s true. Do you really think my abs are nice?”

You rolled your eyes, finally looking like Yoongi again. “You know they are nice, you have about a thousand shirtless selfies. You didn’t answered me, you know. About why you’re up so early.”

“Meeting with the boss. He likes to see my pretty face first thing in the morning. I don’t blame him though, the sight of my beautiful face can make anybodys day better. ” He sipped his coffee, looking through his bangs at you pressing the decline button on your phone again. “Do you want me to answer it for you? I could act like I was with you the whole night, make him have a taste of his own poison.”

You looked thoughtful for a moment, a half smile lifting the corners of your lips. “Nah, not now, maybe later. Thanks for the offer, though. I’m gonna take a shower, you finish your breakfast. It was nice talking to you, Jin-ssi, good luck with your meeting. Try not to blind anyone with your good-looks.”

You left him then, disappearing behind the door to your room. Jin finished eating, noting how you had barely touched your food, going to take a quick shower after because you had distracted him and he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry up already.

Seoul’s summer was still strong even at the beginning of September. The drive to his agency building was longer than it should’ve been, but even still he still made it on time. Smiling at the receptionist, he took the lift to the director floor, where he promptly listened about the same old thing. He was getting more popular, his Instagram being partly responsible for it, attracting modelling jobs for him. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, to model. But still, it helped pay the bills, so he took it anyways. Acting roles came more sporadically, but every one of them since someone had recorded him singing shirtless at the beginning of his career had been a hit. He was lucky, really, that because of his looks he attracted a large number of female audience, but that didn’t mean he didn’t put everything he had into each role, rehearsing nearly to exhaustion just so that nobody could say he was talentless. Acting was his dream, and he wasn’t going to waste a single opportunity.

He made his way to the the theater where his next play would be. He didn’t had to be there for another two hours, but he was a rehearsal freak. Parking his 4x4 at the underground parking lot, he made his way through the building, putting the code to open the door. Turning the lights on, he threw his bag with a set of clean clothes for later when he would be drenched in sweat in the corner.

Suddenly he remembered how you had said you googled him, cringing at himself and the ridiculous things you must had found. Smiling to himself, he typed you name in the search engine, being greeted by way more information than he thought there would be. But Yoongi had said your father was a big shot, so the media being curious about you wasn’t so surprising, after all. Korea always had a sick interest at digging through rich heirs lifes.

One of the most recent articles was about your father death, which he skipped. He already knew about this, and death wasn’t a subject he wanted to dig. There was something else he was curious about. The guy who was stupid enough to cheat on you.

It was actually the second article, named ‘Match made in heaven! Seoul’s elite sweethearts to become one soon!’, which he particularly thought was a terrible name.

He skipped through the text, looking at the photos intently. Taehyung was right, you looked way skinnier now than in the main photo of you, in a elegant black party dress smiling brightly at the man beside you, both of you showing the diamond ring that sat on your finger. He was handsome, Jin had to give him that. Auburn hair well styled, a nice smile and a suit that must have costed more than his last show had made.

Im Jaebum, 24, last year of law school, is bound to take over the Min Company in the future. With their faces, Korea’s bound to have the most good-looking babies in the future!

Jin scoffed. The guy wasn’t that pretty. He read through the comments, where surprisingly the couple had their own fans, who were babbling about how they should win the award of best looking couple of Seoul. Rolling his eyes, he opened your Instagram page. His eyebrows shot up. You had even more followers than him, but your last photos were two months ago. One was with Taehyung and an extremely big ice cream in each hand, both of you smiling big for the camera, looking more like siblings than you and Yoongi had at first, the caption being ‘My favorite dongsaeng treated his noona today! Everybody, go see his show, Thursday, it’s gonna be great!!!’, where she tagged him and the theater company. It had a extreme amount of comments.

The other one was you with Jaebum, posing in front of a pool, both looking like you had came straight out of a photoshoot with your cocktails in hand, your head resting at his shoulder staring at the camera while he looked at you and smiled. The caption now was a simple heart emoji.

He threw his phone over his bag, felling complicated. All the comments were talking about how great the two of you were together, other expressing condolences about you father, even though he had died four months before the photo was taken. Jin stood up, stretching his arms. He obviously wasn’t that great of a guy if he had cheated on you. He wondered how Seoul’s avid gossip readers would feel if they knew.

Sighing, he started practicing his dance for the play. He shouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs, he knew. He especially shouldn’t meddle into his roommate little sister life. But it was hard to not feel a least a little bit protective about you. He, even more than Yoongi, knee how you must been feeling. He was also cheated in once, for the only person he had dated seriously. It was partially the reason why he never had gotten serious with anyone after that.

The door opened then, pulling him out of his thoughts. He smiled at the other actor who had gotten there early, deciding it was best to focus on rehearsing for the play that would soon be premiered.

You peeked under the pillow you were using to ignore the constant buzz of your phone that had now decided to thankfully remain silent. Feeling a little sick to your stomach, you pressed the button to your voicemail, closing your eyes in advance before hearing his voice.

‘Hey, did you forgot to power your phone again? Are you still at Jackson’s place? Don’t come home too late, it’s dangerous outside.’

‘Did you fell asleep there again? Aish, sleepyhead, couldn’t you have waited till you got home? Jackson isn’t picking his phone either, answer his home phone okay? Miss you.’

Lies. You thought bitterly. How could he miss you after moaning the name of someone else like that? You took a deep breath, the last voice message was from ten minutes ago, at 9 o’clock. You knew that was the time he usually left for work, after kissing you goodbye in the morning.

“Y/N, where are you?” His voice sounded a little desperate, his satoori coming out a little bit like it always did whenever he was nervous. “Jackson just called me to tell me you didn’t slept there. Where are you? Why aren’t you calling me back? I’m almost calling the police, please call me back.”

You rubbed your eyes, feeling a little bad for having made him bother Jackson about you. You scrolled through your contact list, finding your blond friend name easily.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Came his voice through the speaker beside your head, your hands too busy hugging a teddy bear to keep yourself from falling apart. “I just stopped your fiance from going to the police to report your kidnap. He came here and almost knocked my door down when I told him you had left early yesterday. Were did you went?”

You gulped, feeling you throat drying. There was an uncomfortable feeling in your eyes, which you closed again. You wouldn’t cry. It wasn’t like you to cry so much like this. You had to get a grip.

“I’m at Yoongi’s place. I’m okay.” You finally answered, hearing your oldest friend sigh in relief at the other side of the phone. “ Jackson, I need a favor. Could you go to the apartment while Jaebum oppa is still at work and grab some clothes for me? The ones I have here are all ridiculous.”

There was a pause. “Why do you need clothes? Are you going to stay there now that you two made up? Why didn’t you called Jaebum hyung?”

“Please, go for me.” You said, your voice finally breaking at the end. “I’ll text you what I need you to bring and where they are. We can talk here. Don’t tell him where I am, just say that I’m okay. Please, oppa, do me this favor.”

You heard a car door closing through the phone, the car starting. You smiled a little, knowing that Jackson had probably started moving even before asking you why.

“Why are you crying? You never cry, not unless it’s something serious. I’ll be there with your things in a couple of hours, text me what you need me to pack and the apartment key code. But you have to promise me that you’ll explain, okay?”

“I promise. Thank you, oppa. See you soon.”

You lied there for a couple minutes, feeling grateful for having a best friend like Jackson. Eight months older than you, you both had met still in middle school. He was one of your father’s business partner and friends, and with both your moms being friends, you two had always a reason to be in each other’s houses. He was probably the person you most trusted your secrets, him being the first person who you had runned to after you horrible fight with Yoongi.

A head popped in your door , startling you. Taehyung had his signature boxy smile already set for you. He looked ready to leave, having even combed his mess of a hair.

“Hey, you going already? Did you eat the breakfast I made you?” You managed to say, sounding much more brighter than you felt. Walking over to him, you patted his head, a habit you had for a few years, since when you did it accidentally and discovered how much his hair was soft.

“Yup, it was it really nice. Usually Jin hyung is the one who cooks, but your food is much better.” He looked at you again then, pulling you to the living room. “ Don’t tell him I said it though. Anyway, noona, how are you feeling? We can go for ice cream later if you’re up to it, it’s been a while.”

You smiled at the younger boy. He was always so cute, like a puppy. You smoothed the collar of his shirt, pretending to be considering the offer. He was slowly starting to make a sad face, thinking you were going to turn him down, so you said quickly, “Of course I’ll go. I’m sorry I wasn’t better at keeping in touch. I’ll even pay for you, how 'bout that? You can tell me more about what’s been going on with you then.”

He hugged you, lifting you from the ground, making you yelp in surprise. He was never one to be shy at skinship, which was actually refreshing after all the coldness in which you were treated when you visited the company building, basically the only place you willingly went to. He said his goodbyes then, rushing out of the door, already late for class.

Shaking your head at his retreating figure, you turned around. Yoongi was smirking at you, leaning against the hallway wall, shaking his head.

“That boy never asks me to eat ice cream. I guess he still has a crush on you, after all.”

“Oh, shut up, you know Tae has a crush on everybody. He text me about his crush on a photography major last week.” you grumbled, plopping yourself in the black leather couch. “I’m just his noona, it’s nothing like that. Not everybody shuns human touch, you know.”

He shrugged. “Sure, sure.” Looking you over, he asked then, frowning. “Did you even sleep? I heard you talking on the phone.”

Turning on the television, you scrolled through the channels nonchalantly. “A little. Are you going to work already?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt having caught how you were changing the subject.

“Yeah, so I can finally finish in time for a change. You’ll be okay alone in here? You can come with me if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at your older brother. “You would hate that, you always said I never let you focus. Jackson is coming here with some of my things, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, oppa.”

He walked to you, his hand ruffling your head just like you did with Tae five minutes ago. You grunted at the mess your hair was now, glaring at him half menacingly.

He poked your left cheek. “It’s my job to worry about you. Call me if you need anything, and don’t let the men get you down. Peace.”

Your sleeper missed his mint head by a few inches, unfortunately. Trying to fix your hair without bothering to go look at the mirror, you settled more comfortably at the worn out couch, finally settling to Discovery Animal, and it almost felt like when you were a teen, when your mom was still alive and you would school, pretending to be sick so that you could sleep the whole morning.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you knew was that the doorbell was ringing. You opened the door, Jackson being on the other side, a suitcase in his hand. He looked you over, scrunching his face at your dark circles. He handed it to you, stepping inside with you.

“This place looks the same. Where’s Yoongi hyung?”

“At the studio.” You answered. Biting your lips, your mustered you courage again. “Did you told Jaebum I wasn’t kidnapped?”

He sighed, sitting at the same couch you were drooling two minutes ago. “Yeah. It was really hard making him not come here with me, by the way. He was worried sick, went to my house before going to work looking like he didn’t slept all night.”

You snorted loudly. “I bet he didn’t.”

He lifted one eyebrow at you, silently asking for an explanation. And you gave him one. Telling him all that had happened since the moment you left his house, were the both of you were working on your guest list for the wedding, up until when you had listened to all his voice mails in the morning.

Jackson looked expressionless, like you never saw him before. The line of his jaw getting sharper the more you told him, finally breaking his silence when you had cried again, embarrassed for being so pathetic, not because you were feeling hurt, you told yourself.

“You’re not pathetic.” he was quick to assure you, making you realize you had said it out loud. “Jaebum is. Couldn’t even keep it in his pants like a horny teenager. What are you going to do? Are you calling off the marriage? Do you want me to kill him?”

“I don’t know. You know that he was basically forced into this engagement, just like me. I’ve been thinking the whole night, about if I was mad at him or not. I’m hurt, yes, but i don’t know. Can I blame him for that? Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe my father was right when he said I wasn’t really enough for Jaebum and that i should be thankful for marrying him.”

“Don’t, Y/N. It isn’t your fault. You are more than enough, for Jaebum and for everybody. Don’t put yourself down like that. He’s the wrong one, just him. He’s the one who broke your trust, my trust.”

You stood, walking until you were standing in front of the windows. You watched Seoul’s busy downtown, bursting with people even in the morning going about their business normally.

“If I was enough that wouldn’t be happening. Yoongi was right, when he said all those things to me about this engagement.” You sighed deeply, feeling a little bit numb inside. “ Maybe there’s something wrong with the women in my family, something that make us unlovable.”

His strong arms circled your shoulders, pressing you to his chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not unlovable. I love you, your brother loves you, Taehyung also loves you. Jaebum loves you too, he just seems to have forgotten about it. Come, let’s get some fresh air, put on some clothes that aren’t pink pajamas. Seoul can’t handle you being so cute so early.”

You complied, going to your room, dragging the suitcase behind you. Jackson had gotten everything you asked, even your skincare and makeup pouch. You smiled to yourself, knowing that you could easily trust your life in Jackson’s hands. Changing to a summer dress[ and sandals, you tied your hair in a elegant bun, doing your best to conceal the lack of sleep from your face. Feeling almost human again, you went out, stopping in your tracks when you heard your phone buzz with a text message.

From: Jaebummie Oppa <3</b>

I am so relieved you’re okay. Please call me back, miss ur voice.

Something in your chest tugged. Was he just pretending? Did he really care? You turned your phone off, not wanting to have to deal with it right now. You smiled brightly at you best friend, who was entertained with his phone, giving a nauseatingly sweet smile and typing at the same time.

“Is Mark oppa still in LA? Are you smiling like a fool because he just said how much he missed you or something disgustingly sweet like that?

“He just sent me a photo of him and his dog, so cute. Look.” He showed you the screen, and you hated to admit, but it was cut. The small white puppy was nestled in his chest, sleeping peacefully. “What you wanna do? Want to go shopping? Heard that’s your favorite sport.”

You punched his arm not so lightly. “Screw you, Wang. Let’s just eat lunch at that place that only sells organic that you love so much. You’re paying anyway.”

He laughed his infamous laugh, making you smile in return. You could always count on him to boost your mood. It made you think that even though things weren’t good now they would be again someday.

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

Is this a plot forming?? Maybe??? It’s a little less of a mess now, isn’t it? Opinions would be greatly appreciated, as well as corrections about my grammar (english isn’t my first language)

More Jin x Y/N in the next chapters, but be warned that I think this will be a slow burn. BUT!! It’ll have smut!!! Eventually lol

#bts fanfic #bts fics #bts angst #jin x reader #yoongi #taehyung #bts scenarios #bts jin #bts smut #itmfl #someone give me feedback please #jackson wang #im jaebum #cheating #bts imagines #bts v #bts suga #my fics

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