#our kind. does ‘our kind’ HAUNT your waking hours like it does mine. oh my god.

[erythriina]

reading bram stoker’s letter to walt whitman

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i  part ii  AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

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Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown.  And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.  

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”  

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

//

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

~

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

[farfromsugafanfic]

Lock & Key

Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

Warnings: cursing, dirty jokes

Synopsis: When Jungkook ditches you on your birthday, your friendship looks like it’s about to crumble. Your friend group becomes tired of your bickering and decides to take the matter into their own hands. Somehow, you and Jungkook find yourselves handcuffed together.

"Have you guys found a present for Y/N yet?" Jin asked, picking up his third pizza slice and taking a large bite, the cheese stretching as he pulled it away from his lips.

"You haven't gotten it yet? Her birthday dinner is tomorrow," Taehyung said. His eyes were tired, but he'd still insisted on joining the party despite having just gotten off a long train ride, as he hadn't seen his friends from high school for months. "I got her the first two manga in that series she's been wanting to read."

"Mmm," Jin said, seeming to consider Taehyung's choice of gift. "I need mine to be really special. He finished his pizza to the crust and turned it 180 degrees and bit into the end. "Jungkook, you're closest to Y/N. What are you getting her?"

Jungkook turned, wide-eyed towards Jin. The younger's face was already a bit flushed from the beers and from the mention of your name. "I'm paying for her part of the meal tomorrow and I got her tickets to that musical that's only in town for one night."

"Woah, that's gonna be hard to beat," Jimin said, "Y/N hasn't stopped talking about that musical since they announced it. Remember how she went crazy over it in the group chat?"

"I'm sure Y/N will like whatever you get her," Jungkook said. "She isn't very picky and she'll appreciate it because it came from you."

"I know. I just have something special planned and I want it to be perfect." The six other guys looked to the eldest expectantly. Jin sighed. "Gosh, fine, I'll tell you. I plan on confessing to her tomorrow."

"What? You like Y/N?! Since when?"

"Woah, congrats man!"

"You'll make such a cute couple."

The group fell to chaos, but Jungkook was notably the least excited. At the mention of Jin's plans, he sunk back against the wall and took a large bite of his pizza, followed by a gulp of beer.

"I'm not sure when I started liking her," Jin said. "I just kind of realized that I do. I figured we are friends and I'll regret it if I don't give it a shot."

"Are you sure her birthday is the best time to confess?" Jungkook asked, finally piping up. "What if things don't go well and you ruin it? Are you going to do it in front of everyone?"

"I thought about it and I'm going to wait until after the meal. Maybe I'll be able to steal her away for a few moments after she opens our gifts."

Jungkook's nose wrinkled and he was obviously unsatisfied with the answer. Yet, he dropped it and reached for another slice of pizza. "Why does it matter to you Jungkook? It's not like we all still won't hang out or that you'll never see her."

"Y/N's been hurt before. I'm sure you remember how upset she was after Minsung. I had to sleep in her bed for two weeks because she'd wake up crying. I never want her to feel that hurt again."

"Jungkook, I won't hurt her. She's more likely to hurt me. Why do you care so much about her heart being broken anyway? You're not the one who broke it and you aren't responsible for fixing it. Y/N's a big girl, she can handle herself."

Jungkook pouted. "I have to pee," he said, standing up and leaving the room, carrying his pizza slice with him.

vVv

An array of appetizers were spread across the table, a few bites taken from each. You were just waiting on the last three to show up: Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. You expected them to come together as they had been nearly inseparable in high school. As Jin finished off one of the appetizers, you spotted Jimin and Taehyung walking in. You got up and rushed towards them.

"Happy birthday!" Jimin and Taehyung said, nearly tripping each other as they ran to hug you. "It's been too long, Y/N!" The two boys had moved out of the city for college and you rarely got to see them. You didn't know what you do if Jungkook--your best friend--had gone with them.

"I'm so glad you guys could make it! Come on and sit down, we're just waiting on Jungkook."

The appetizers were gone and the missing chair at the table remained. Worry grew in your throat and you glanced down at your phone for the umpteenth time to see if he had texted you. Even, just a simple "Running late!" or "Stuck in traffic!" would calm your nerves.

"Have you guys heard from Jungkook at all?"

The other guys all shook their heads and gave you sympathetic looks. You'd put off ordering, but it'd been nearly an hour since most of you arrived and you didn't want to keep the staff waiting any longer. "All right, let's order."

"I'm sure he just got stuck in traffic or something, Y/n," Jin said, reaching out and tapping your hand.

Your heart dropped as you read his last reply. You felt tears stinging your eyes, but you pushed them back before the other guys could notice.

"He's not coming," you said.

"What?" you heard someone ask, but you were too focused on not allowing your spiraling thoughts ruin your birthday and holding back tears to register who it was.

"He said he got a date or something. I don't know, but come on, we can enjoy this without him."

Due to the solemn looks on their faces, you knew they saw right through your facade. You and Jungkook had been best friends since elementary school where he accidentally trampled you when he was racing his friends. Despite ending up with a badly skinned knee and a couple of bruises, you were fine, but Jungkook had insisted on taking you to the nurse's office anyway. He pretended to sprain his ankle just so he could sit and keep you company.

What had happened since then? You'd never felt like your friendship was dwindling when it came to Jungkook. Whenever either of you dated, it didn't make a difference. High school graduation didn't separate you. Not even when Jungkook forced you to a haunted house in high school and laughed when he saw the stain on your jeans and realized you'd peed your pants in fright.

Despite ignoring for Overwatch or coming to your apartment just for the free food, he always ended up doing small things to make up for it. You often found chocolate bars stashed in the odd drawer or cupboard to make up for all the food he steals. After he finished laughing, Jungkook allowed you to wear his sweatshirt to cover it and bought you new jeans. You still had that sweatshirt stashed in your closet somewhere.

vVv

The tears stopped by the end of dinner, but now anger ran down your spine. How dare he skip your birthday for someone he just met? He'd never done anything like this before, he was the one person in this world that you could depend on, and now he's not. You feel a pang of sadness in your stomach and reach out for your portion of the bill, which Jungkook had promised to pay for.

"Stop," Jin said, reaching for the bill you'd just barely wrapped your fingertips around. "You're not paying. We'll split yours." You nodded, powerless to the eldest's tone.

After the bill was paid, everyone got up and starting readying to leave. You had taken a taxi, expecting Jungkook to take you home afterward. Jin seemed to notice, his brown eyes melting when they met yours.

"Hey, come on, I'll walk you home."

You nodded and waved goodbye to the other guys as you all walked in opposite directions or climbed into taxis. You didn't catch the other guys thumbs upping Jin and giving him reassuring smiles.

"Thanks for coming," you said. "Even though it kinda got ruined."

"I'll always come, Y/N."

"Oh, when I get a hold of his bunny ass--"

"Go easy on him, Y/N. I'm sure he has a better reason than he told you."

"He better be on his death bed then."

Jin let out a snort, which caused you to smile, but the smile soon faded and so did the fake happiness the anger made you feel. Now you just felt hopeless and felt the tears stinging in your sinuses again.

"Do," you said, already your voice faltering. "you think I'm still enough?"

Jin stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Am I still enough for him? Maybe he found a better friend," you said, your gaze painting the sidewalk. "I mean, I always rely on him. He's always my shoulder to cry on. Maybe he finally got tired of it. Got tired of me."

Jin placed a hand on your shoulder. It felt odd, as Jin wasn't one for skinship, but his touch was comforting, even if you were imagining it was Jungkook's. Except you couldn't, Jungkook's touch was old, familiar, warm. Like the fireplace at your grandparent's house or when your car is completely heated on a snowy day. Jin's--sure, it was warm--but it wasn't Jungkook.

"No, no, of course not," Jin said, moving to hug you, your cheek hitting his chest. "That could never happen. You and Jungkook have been friends for years. If he was gonna get tired of you, he would've already."

You scoffed, half in laughter and half in fear. "Thanks."

"Okay, but seriously, Jungkook cares about you. A lot." Jin paused and sighed. You looked up, noticing his eyes weren't on you, but rather he was looking up. His eyes looked glazed, but you didn't remember him having any drinks. "He wouldn't allow himself to lose you, Y/N. Trust me."

The rest of the walk was filled with a comfortable silence. It was only a few more blocks from where you'd stopped, so you reached your apartment in just a few minutes.

"Thanks for walking with me," you said. "Sorry, I got kinda sad halfway through."

Jin shook his head and reached to move a piece of your ponytail that had escaped from the hairband and fallen roguishly over your head.

"You don't need to apologize for your feelings, Y/N. Just promise me you won't kill the kid. I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding."

You nodded, although you weren't convinced that Jungkook didn't now hate you for reasons you didn't know.

"Thanks," you said. "For everything."

Jin nodded. "You're welcome." He turned and walked into the night and you turned your back before he disappeared.

vVv

"How did the confession go?" Jimin asked, as soon as Jin walked into the small apartment he shared with Yoongi, which was now cramped with six bodies.

"It didn't."

Jimin and the other faces in the room all contorted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't confess."

"But, why? Wasn't that your plan? Don't you like her?"

"She loves someone else," Jin said, his voice deeper than usual, his heartbreak captured in the back of his throat. "And, someone else loves her."

vVv

Two Days Later

You hadn't heard anything from Jungkook since the night of your birthday and you weren't sure what hurt more--the fact that he didn't care enough to explain himself or that he had seemingly replaced you. His Instagram was full of stories and posts of him with the girl you assumed was the one he skipped your birthday for. She was beautiful with large dark eyes and curly hair. His arm was around her shoulders and then eventually her waist. He must really like her because you remember how it took Jungkook nearly two years just to feel comfortable placing an arm around you.

You huffed and threw your phone onto your bed as you ran your hands through your hair. You were still mad, but you didn't want to lose your best friend. You remembered Taehyung mentioning how all the guys were getting together for Overwatch.

You hardly thought as you headed towards Jin's and Yoongi's apartment--the largest of the apartments belonging to those in your friend group.

You didn't bother knocking as you entered the apartment. You found the seven guys all crowded onto two couches and watching Taehyung and Jungkook. They didn't notice you until you slipped in and placed your hand  on Jimin's shoulder—who jumped at your touch.

"Y/N!"

All seven heads turned to look at you. Most breaking into smiles and friendly greetings and offering you snacks.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asked, his voice breaking through the revelry. He was normally so soft-spoken, but at this moment, his voice grated through the air.

"I was hoping we could talk."

"You weren't invited here."

Your stomach turned. He'd never spoken to you like this, ever. Jungkook was normally the happiest when you showed up unannounced.

"Since when do I need an invitation, Jungkook? This is Jin and Yoongi's place, not yours."

Jungkook didn't respond but instead unpaused the game. Taehyung barely had time to close his mouth from watching the two of you that he fumbled with the controller as he realized Jungkook had restarted the game.

"Oh, so you're just gonna ignore me then?"

You rolled your eyes at how typical this was of all your ex-boyfriends. Towards the end of the relationship, they always ignored you for something else. Sometimes it was someone else, others it was their job. And yet, others, it was video games.

Jungkook had been there with you for all of these failed relationships. He said you deserved someone better, someone, who would never leave you or ignore you. You thought he was the only constant in your life, the one person who would never leave you, but now, he was just like all the rest.

Tears stung your sinuses. You dug your feet into the carpet and grabbed onto the back of the couch, trying to focus on the game. The guys had gone back to talking amongst themselves, eating, and watching the game. Yet, the air felt different, you caught concerned glances flicking your way and Jin silently offered you a slice of pizza which you declined, only eliciting another puppy-eyed look from the eldest of the group.

Jungkook was close to winning and the tears were soon beginning to simmer and your hands balled into fists. Before you could think or stop yourself, you marched around the couch and reached for the cord that was connected to the Xbox. The screen went black and all the eyes in the room shifted to you.

"Y/N?! What the fuck?!" Jungkook said, his voice rising. "I was about to win!"

"Jungkook, we need to talk and you're being an asshole."

Jungkook's ears were red and his eyes hard as steel. "This is ridiculous, Y/N. You came here uninvited to talk to me and when I go back to playing games because that's what I'm here for, you unplugged the system and demand I talk to you. And, I'm the asshole?"

You wanted to scream and pull your hair out. Yet, the thing you wanted most was to cry into Jungkook's oversized, black T-shirt because you knew it smelled of his cologne.

"Jungkook, you skipped my birthday party and you said we could talk about it, but it's been two days and I just want my best friend back."

"Y/N, why can't you just take the hint you're not wanted? This was supposed to be a guy's night and now you've had to come in here and ruin everything. You're way too clingy, like, this is why they always leave you."

"Jungkook!" Jin said.

You barely registered as the other boys chastised Jungkook as your vision blurred from the tears. You swore you saw his face soften before your eyes were totally filled with tears, but you couldn't be sure.

"Y/N," Jin said. You felt his hand come to rest gently on your shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you home."

vVv

A few days later you found yourself standing outside of Jungkook's apartment. You knew Taehyung and Jimin were staying with him, so you secretly hoped one of them would open the door.

The hallway was silent and dimly lit. It felt like midnight despite being noon. You softly knocked on the door, the sound--while quiet--seemed to echo down the hallway. You weren't sure what you were going to do or say when he opened the door. You were only sure that you missed the way he used to show up at your place at midnight with ice cream sandwiches or the way he let you borrow his sweatshirts when you were cold or couldn't sleep.

Thirty seconds passed and you knocked again. Firmer this time, each knock ringing out in the empty hallway.

"Jungkookie," you said softly.

You heard footsteps on the other side of the door. They were faint, but you recognized them from when he slept over at your apartment when you were sick or going through a rough time.

You listened as the door unlocked and slowly opened. He only opened the door a crack, just enough to peak out, as if you were an unknown person knocking on his door. As if you didn't know the layout of his apartment or that he kept all his mess concentrated to the common areas and his bedroom immaculate.

"Y/N...what are you doing here?"

His voice was softer than the last time you spoke. You knew Jin had told Jungkook how much you cried as he took you home and how you didn't answer his texts all night.

"I just wanted to see you," you said. "We don't have to talk or anything. I just miss you."

Jungkook didn't say anything. His eyes scanning over you. Your hair was unwashed and pulled into a bun and you wore sweatpants and a T-shirt. Dark circles outlined your eyes and even though it had only been a few days, your face looked thinner and your skin languid.

Another set of footsteps approached and the door swung open wider. Taehyung stood there in just his boxers and munching on a piece of toast. His eyes widened when he saw you and he glanced over at Jungkook, who's eyes were looking down at your feet.

"Hey, stop being a dick and let her in."

"Put on some clothes then," Jungkook said, his voice quiet and low, almost a growl. He swung the door all the way open and disappeared into his apartment.

Taehyung met your eyes and shrugged. He offered a small smile as you walked into the apartment. You hadn't brought anything with you, not sure exactly what would happen.

"I won't stay long," you said. "I just wanted to see him."

"At least have breakfast with me," he said, dropping two pieces of bread into the toaster.

You nodded and fell onto the couch. You'd done this countless times. At 4 in the morning after a night out, you'd collapse on Jungkook's couch still in your heels and your makeup slowly wearing off. You usually woke up the next morning in Jungkook's bed, your heels set by the door and your makeup at least mostly wiped off. At 6 pm as you leaned against Jungkook's shoulder as the movie started, your hand diving into the popcorn bowl in his lap. Most of your favorite memories happened on his couch.

"I hope you like Nutella," Tae said, handing you a piece of toast.

You laughed. "I love it," you said. "How do you stay so fit eating like this?"

Taehyung was still in his boxers. While he didn't have a six pack, he certainly wasn't hard to look at and the slight toning of his stomach showed he was putting in some effort.

"I'll gain five pounds just from eating this," you said, and despite your words, you took a large bite.

"Then you should have another," Jungkook said from the other side of the room. You hadn't noticed him there, he must've slipped in when Taehyung distracted you with the toast. "You're getting too skinny."

"I didn't ask you, Jungkook," you said. You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back, your toast abandoned on the arm of the couch.

"I'm just worried about you."

"Since when? When you stopped texting me? Or, when you ditched my birthday party for someone you just met?"

Jungkook's eyes turned soft in the way that would usually make you melt. But, you kept your eyes off of his and your spine straight.

"Y/N..."

"Listen, Jungkook, I might've come here cause I missed you, but that doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

Jungkook didn't say anything. Silence filled the apartment and after what felt like an eternity, he left to his bedroom.

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "I think I just need a nap or something. I'm getting a headache." You looked around the apartment. There was only one bedroom and both Taehyung and Jimin were staying with Jungkook during their visit. "Where are you sleeping?"

Taehyung nodded and gestured toward the couch. "There," he said.

"Oh," you said. "Can I borrow it for an hour or so?"

"Be my guest. But, you know, even though you two are fighting and all, I bet Jungkook would let you have the bed."

You shook your head. "No," you said. "I'm not asking him for any favors and the couch looks more comfortable anyway."

Taehyung shrugged. You laid down and turned your back to him, missing the knowing smile as he cleaned up. You listened as he cleaned up and got dressed before leaving the apartment. It wasn't long before the tears came and you sobbed into the couch cushion as quietly as you could. The last thing you wanted was for Jungkook to emerge from his bedroom and find you like this.

He'd seen you cry dozens of times and you'd even held him as he sobbed into you. You didn't mind crying in front of him, but you knew it would destroy him to see you like this and to know he was the cause. Even if you mad at him, even if you were losing him, you didn't want to crush him.

You didn't remember falling asleep, but when you awoke, his scent was everywhere. You pressed your face into the pillow and stretched out your legs comfortably. You sighed until a thought crossed your mind. Pillow?

You opened your eyes and found yourself in Jungkook's bedroom. It was dark and the covers were pulled up to your chin. Jungkook wasn't in the room and from the empty feeling in the air, he wasn't in the apartment either. Your phone was next to you on the nightstand and plugged into Jungkook's charger.

You glanced at the time and realized your nap had lasted three times longer than you anticipated and you sat in bed as you realized that you probably needed to go home. However, before you could pull your eyes away from your lock screen, a text notification from a couple of hours ago caught your attention.

vVv

"Hey, sorry, I'm late," Taehyung said, walking into Jin and Yoongi's apartment where the other five boys were already crowded on the twin couches. "Y/N showed up at Jungkook's and I needed to see what happened."

The others all looked at Taehyung expectantly. "Jungkook doesn't know about this, right?"

"We didn't tell him."

Taehyung nodded. "Well, they're definitely in love with each other. Jungkook was jealous as hell and Y/N's heartbroken. I could practically see Jungkook splitting in half when he realized how upset she was."

"Well, didn't you all notice how when she started crying after he got mad at her for unplugging the Xbox, how he just broke? I don't think he cared about the game anymore, but then Jin swooped in and stopped it before he could apologize."

All eyes swiped towards Jin and he shrugged. "What? She was to the point of crying. I didn't know what he was going to do and I didn't want to upset either of them more."

"Does he know that you never confessed?"

Jin shook his head. "He never asked."

"Jin!" all the guys said at one.

"That would change everything! He probably thinks you and Y/N are together."

"It's pretty obvious we're not."

"I don't know the way you intervened during the fight and walked her home. It could be seen as you protecting her."

"Well, whatever, what's the plan? We have to get them to make up somehow. And confess, cause they're gonna drive us crazy pining after each other." Jin looked around at the other faces and all of them were, in turn, watching him.

"Well, we need to force them to be alone somehow," Namjoon said. "We could try locking them somewhere, but that's gonna be difficult cause the party is here and none of the doors lock." Eyes wandered as they tried to find a solution and eventually, Jin's eyes fell on the TV where a cartoon cop was catching a criminal, the handcuffs snapping down on the culprit's wrists.

"I think I might have an idea."

vVv

Taehyung and Jimin were taking the train back to their college town in the morning, so that meant you'd all spend the night before getting drunk and gorging yourselves on all the pizza you could.

Jin and Yoongi offered to host the party and a few of their neighbors offered up their apartments so everyone could spread out. You all invited your extended friends and neighbors if everyone came, you didn't doubt the party would probably get out of hand, but that was half the fun.

As you brushed on your blush and primped your hair for the final time, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook was going to be there. There was no way he would miss out on a good party and the opportunity for free food and drinks.

You wore a short white dress that was admittedly a little shorter than you would normally wear. But, with Jungkook ignoring you, you wanted attention and you didn't really care who it was from. Plus, you liked the way it hugged your curves and how when paired with the perfect heels, made your legs look longer.

You arrived a few minutes early to the party with the expectation of helping set up, but the party was already in full swing. When the elevator opened, people crowded the hall with cups in hand and music blasting from Jin and Yoongi's apartment. At this rate, the cops would be called in a couple hours, unless Jin and Yoongi had talked to all their neighbors beforehand, but you highly doubted it.

You waded through the bodies and found your friends all invested in a game of beer pong. The younger three on one end and the older four on the other. The older ones were currently winning and you smirked as you remembered just how good Yoongi was at the game.

"Need help?" you asked, placing your arm around Taehyung's shoulders, the heels allowing you to do so easier, although it still looked slightly awkward.

"Ah, finally! Someone who can rival Yoongi!"

You laughed, trying not to allow your eyes to wander over to Jungkook who was standing closer to you than he had for weeks. "Who's turn is it?"

"Yours if you want."

You nodded and walked up to the table. You angled your arm and aimed for one of the back cups, even if you missed, it may still land in one of the front cups that remained. You tossed the ping pong ball and it sailed perfectly into the cup.

"Yes! Drink up, Min Yoongi!"

Yoongi smirked and took the cup and downed it. You two had played this game countless time, both won and lost countless times, to the point that it was no longer about winning, but rather, who could get the other drunk quicker.

Yoongi aimed his shot and tossed it flawlessly into the cup right in front of you. You took out the ball and downed the cup. The beer was pretty much tasteless which meant it went down easily but left a bad taste in the back of your throat.

After a few shots back and forth, you had drunk twice more and Yoongi once. You were aiming up another shot, intending to tie it up when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked behind you and caught Jungkook's eyes.

"Are you gonna let us play?"

"Do you want to win or not?" you said, turning back and aiming up your shot. You were already a little tipsy and your head ached as you concentrated.

"Y/N, it'll be no fun to get drunk so early," he said. "Come on." His voice was soft and familiar. He'd done this dozens of times. Prevented you from getting too drunk or going home with the wrong guy. He brought you back when the alcohol began to take over. This time--however--you turned away and aimed the ball. Missing.

Yoongi tosses the ball in what appears to be a haphazard fashion, but it sinks straight into a cup. You pick it up and bring it to your lips, but before you can drink, the cup is being knocked from your hands and the beer spills almost entirely onto your dress.

You see Jungkook staring at you wide-eyed--the obvious culprit--his hand still gripping the cup.

"Jungkook!" you yelled, people turned in your direction, but your yell was soon forgotten as the music continued. All but your small group turned back to their own conversations. "Would you stop trying to be my friend? You made it quite obvious you no longer wanted our friendship and you just keep screwing everything up!"

"Y/N, I..."

Tears were beginning to fill your eyes and the only thing you wanted to do was get drunk and forget this night happened. You stepped forward to push through the crowd when someone grabbed your wrist. You knew from the touch that it wasn't Jungkook and when you glanced back, Jin's lips were upturned in a small smile.

"Wait, Y/N," he said. "I'm really sorry about this."

You cocked your head in confusion, but before your lips could form words to ask Jin what he was apologizing for you felt something click onto your wrist and found a handcuff locked around your wrist and you noticed the other was locked to another wrist. You followed the chain and met Jungkook's dark, confused eyes.

"Have fun, kids. We aren't unlocking you until you talk everything out."

vVv

Ten minutes later you stood in the kitchen as Jungkook tried to work a kitchen knife into the lock. The beer was slowly making your dress more and more see-through and you glanced around the room.

"Jungkook, can we try this somewhere else?"

He looked up at you with his brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn't managed to say anything before his eyes widened and he quickly shrugged off his flannel. It caught on his cuff and he struggled to get the sleeve over the handcuff and chain.

"Fuck it," he said, taking the knife and cutting into the seam where the sleeve met the shoulder.

"Jungkook isn't this a bit drastic? We can just go into the bathroom or something."

"No, it's okay. I can just cut off the other one later."

He brought around the uncut sleeve and brought over your shoulder and brought the cut sleeve over the chain and up your arm. The way the flannel hit it ended up covering your entire dress and draping across your bare thighs.

As soon as you were covered and comfortable again, he once again tried to unlock the handcuffs and your hand was at his mercy as he moved the knife point back and forth in the lock.

"Jungkook, this isn't going to work. You're just gonna end up hurting one of us."

Jungkook sat the knife back on the counter looked down dejectedly at your cuffed wrists. You couldn't help the pang of hurt in your stomach. Jin had handcuffed the two of you so you would talk and all Jungkook could focus was on how to get the handcuffs off without talking.

"Maybe we can break the chain," he said. "If we both pull, our combined strength might be enough."

Your wrist was already starting to become red and raw because Jin had accidentally snapped the cuff on a little tight, but before you could protest, Jungkook began pulling on the chain.

You immediately yelped in pain and your wrist attempted to escape the pain, causing your body to fold in on itself. You found yourself crouched and leaning against the counter, your arm almost straight above your head to remain close enough to Jungkook's so that it didn't dislocate the joint.

"Y/N?" Your name was barely audible over the music and the people around you many of which shot odd glances or coy smiles your way.

"It's tight, Jungkook. Jin accidentally locked it too tight. Can--can we just go talk and get these things off?"

Jungkook nodded, seeing your teary eyes from the pain and helping you to your feet. His free palm came to rest on your shoulder and his handcuffed hand grasped your wrist and he slipped two of his fingers between your skin and the cuff. It was the first time he'd touched you since before your birthday and you felt your knees go weak and something shifted in you with his touch. The plate tectonics of your heart shifting suddenly and with no warning.

"Let's go to the bathroom, first."

You were confused as he pulled you into the bathroom and situated you against the counter. He reached into the cupboard behind you and pulled out some lotion and squirted it onto his handcuffed hand. He rubbed it softly onto your wrist where the handcuff had rubbed the skin red and raw.

"Better?"

You nodded and looked up at his face which hovered not far above yours but was focused down on your wrist. His jaw was clenched and his features were stiff. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the sleeve he'd cut from his flannel.

"I think if we roll this down we can put it between the cuff and your wrist. It might make it feel tight, but it won't hurt you so much."

He rolled the sleeve down under it was a single cuff which he carefully slipped over your hand and under the cuff. It did work, your skin feeling relieved from the lotion and the cloth, although it did still feel slightly too tight.

"Thanks," you said. "But, maybe we should get out of here. I don't want your girlfriend to get the wrong idea."

Jungkook met your eyes. "What? Girlfriend?"

"The girl you went on the date with?"

"Oh, it uh, didn't work out."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a long pause as Jungkook continued to adjust the cuff to ensure it stayed. His eyes were focused on your wrist.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For saying you were clingy and bringing your exes into this. I'm sorry for everything."

You looked down at him, your free hand coming to play with the hairs that grew around his ears. His hair was longer than you'd ever seen it and you smiled as he seemed to lean into your hand.

Jungkook finished adjusting the cuff and looked up at you. "I think Yoongi's room is empty. He didn't want people in there, but I bet he won't mind if it's us."

You nodded and followed closely behind Jungkook as you walked through the crowd to Yoongi's bedroom. It--like Jungkook had said--was empty. The two of you flopped down on the bed and despite laying a foot apart your fingers continued to brush against each other as you adjusted your wrists in the cuffs.

"I can't figure out why Jin handcuffed us," Jungkook said. The music was just a series of thumps now and even though it was still loud, you could no longer make out the lyrics and could hear Jungkook's voice without him having to raise it. "I thought he wouldn't want us to hang out anymore."

"What?" you asked. "Why would Jin care if we hang out?"

Jungkook turned and looked at you. His hair was wet from sweat and his hair curled in thick tendrils over his forehead. "Aren't you and Jin dating?"

"What? No! Jin and I are just friends. What makes you think that?"

"Jin told me he was gonna confess to you at your party."

Jungkook pulled his gaze from you and focused up at the ceiling. You thought back on that night. Jin had been acting more generous and gentlemanly that night, but you just chalked it up to it being your birthday.

"I didn't even know he liked me. Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I was with Jin and you didn't want to interfere?"

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part of it?"

His eyes came back to yours and you felt his fingers brushing against yours. But, it wasn't just the millisecond brushes as he adjusted. No, his fingers were practically intertwined with yours.

"Y/N, we've been friends so long...I don't want to ruin it..."

"Jungkook, it's already ruined."

There was a long tense silence between the of you. His fingers fully intertwined with yours. It was far from the first time you'd held his hand, but it felt different. It was softer, yet more intense at the same time. As if your hand were porcelain that could break at even the slightest touch.

Jungkook moved so quickly that you have no idea how he came to hover above you. His free arm resting above his head and the one handcuffed to you still intertwined with yours to the side. "What would've happened if Jin had confessed to you?"

"Kookie?"

"What would've happened?"

"I-I would've turned him down."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm in love with someone else."

His lips were on your before you even finished the sentence. He was gentle but urgent as if he'd been waiting two thousand years to kiss you.

"I'm still mad at you for skipping my birthday party," you said when he pulled away. "I don't care if you're in love with me, your cute ass still has a lot of making up to do."

Jungkook smiled as he leaned down placed a small kiss on your neck. "Well, I never got to give you my gift."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two tickets. You grabbed them from his hands and you smiled as you realized it was for the musical you'd been dying to see.

"It's tomorrow," he said. "Pretty good first date, yeah?"

"Hey, don't get cocky yet!" It was hard for you to hide your smile and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so, you just leaned up and kissed him.

vVv

You woke up the next morning enveloped in Jungkook's arms and his one-armed flannel. You looked up to see him scrolled through his phone, but when you squirmed, he looked down at you.

"Good morning, baby," he said.

"That sounds so weird."

"What, baby?" He smirked and giggled as you reached up and playfully hit his shoulder.

"Wait," you said, looking at your unbound wrist. You looked down and found the handcuffs on the bed. "They must've uncuffed us last night."

"I hadn't even realized," he said. A blush appeared on his face. "I didn't want to let go of your hand."

"Aww," you said, reaching up and ruffling his hair. "You're such a softie."

Jungkook smirked and grabbed your wrists. "Hey, I'm not completely a softie."

He held your wrists and glanced down at the handcuffs. "Maybe, we should keep these."

[aquamarina7]

The Snake Pit- Zutara one-shot

· Zutara drabble

· Fire Lord x Fire Lady

· Words: 2,700

· Summary: Katara wakes up from a disturbing dream that sets her day off down a surprising spiral. This is set on one day, post-war, Zuko and Katara are now married and living together at the palace.

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

A snake, large and hungry peered out of the deep pit in the desert. She looked around for anyone, anything that could help her but there was nothing but dust for miles. The snake could smell her. It slowly slid out of the pit and crawled towards her. She wanted to run but her feet remained planted to the floor. As the snake moved closer, it grew in size. It hissed and opened it’s mouth. She could feel the ground shift as it slid closer and closer and bit her.

Katara jumped up out of her dream, sweating. She panted heaily and parted the knotted hair from her face. She stretched out her hand in the dark to reach for the glass of lukewarm water by the side of her bed. Her pants subsided slowly as she gulped down the cool water that felt healing to her body. As she drank the liquid heavily the body beside her started stirring. Zuko rolled sleepily on his side and glanced up at her through matted hair.

“Another nightmare?” he groaned.

“Yeah” she whispered weakly as she settled back into the bed, face up. Zuko cleared his throat and shuffled up the bed to place his arm under her neck for support.

“What was it this time?” he peered at her in the dark.

“The snake again” she sighed and turned to him, her face still haunted by the dream.

“Come here” Zuko pulled her closer into his chest and kissed to top of her head “they’ll pass Katara. Trust me. If not, I may have to jump into one of those dreams and slay the snake once and for all, like I did the dragon” she chuckled softly and looks up at him.

“You did not slay that dragon Zuko, Aang told me the real story, remember” she poked at his side.

“Well maybe I need to speak to Aang to get our stories straight on that one” His smile made her feel warm again and the last images of her dream seeped away. “You know-” Zuko began after a few moments of silence “You may be lucky.”

“Lucky?” she asked.

“A reoccurring dream, I mean. It’s good luck here” Katara scoffed “No, I mean it. We have gurus, oneirocritics, dream interpreters. They tend to live way out in the outskirts. They read futures and mix potions. It all mainly old wives tales, but the people in the fire nation really believe in them” Katara played mindlessly with her fingers.

“Oh really?” she grinned “and what’s your analysis Fire Lord?”

“Well…” Zuko scratched the back of his head “Maybe I’m the snake” he slowly began to wrap his arms around her “and I’m coming to catch you and make you mine!” he tightened his hold on her, his arms tightening around her like a boa constrictor and playfully jumped on top of her.

“It wouldn’t be the first time” she grinned daringly. He attacked her with kisses and she fought back with her own. He stopped and stared deeply into her, his arms locked and sturdy. Her hand rose to push his long hair out of his face.

“I love you” she whispered and leant upward to meet his lips. He leant in and deepened their kiss; closing the space between them to feel her body underneath his. He pressed himself down to feel her and they both gasped for air. A small moan left Katara’s mouth before the door to their room flew open and a strong stream of light entered in.

“Fire Lord Zuko, the Ambassador arrived late last night, he is scheduled to meet with you in an hour. Before that, you must remember to sign the Shi Treaty and write to General Iroh when you get the chance. Oh, and good morning Lady Katara, you are representing both the North and South pole in today’s agreements as Master Feng can’t be present unfortunately. You also will host Lady Wren later this week, but other than that, you’re relatively free today.”

“Morning Lou” Katara growled from underneath Zuko, still in their intimate position.

“Lou, what did we say? No interruptions until 6 O’clock” Zuko turned to face her. Lou was a middle-aged women with short greying hair. She was Zuko’s chief assistant and constantly walked with a long task scroll and a team of staff behind her. Her staff scuttled around the room, welcoming the morning in. They opened the blinds, began to run water, take out dress robes and placed a tray of fruit down on the table in the middle of the large open area.

“Yes sir, and I believe it was 6, 4 minutes ago!” she exclaimed. Zuko scowled and arose to drape a silk burgundy rope around his bare chest. Katara sat up and pulled her loose curly hair into a bun on top her head. She dismissed the servants silently and watched them file out the room.

“Lou, if we could just have one more minute, we would greatly appreciate it” she said softly as she looked over at an annoyed Zuko.

“As you wish my Lady, but we will need to get going soon” Lou bowed and took a few steps back.

“Of course Lou, we’ll be right with you” Katara smiled her best ‘please-leave’ smile as Lou exited the room. They both let out a big sigh.

“I hate it when she does that” Zuko sulked, stretching his long arms up towards the ceiling.

“I know, I understand she has a job to do, but a knock would be nice” she chuckled as she walked up and gave a light hug to his stretched torso. His arms dropped to her waist and she gave a light peck to the warm skin peaking out his robe.

“See you tonight then” he spoke into her hair and then swiftly headed out towards the door. “I love you!” he shouted as he left and she smiled.

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

Katara’s day went relatively normal from then, she was pushed into different rooms with different people, signed many scrolls that were shoved into her hand. She bowed to officials and everyone else bowed to her. What had made her day worse was how uncomfortable her dress robes were this particular day. Katara had spent the first few months after she had become fire lady, trying her best to fit into the strange traditions of the fire nation. Their clothing was one of her biggest battels and the itchy silks and tight corsets were far from the comfort she has once known. After weeks of light-headedness from what could be only be explained as suffocation from her gowns, Katara met with her tailor to design garments that were less constricting and used a mix of materials from the water tribes and fire nation, that she was so used to. Being able to breath made her more productive as a fire lady and actually started a trend in the fire nation. It was common now to see noble ladies with fur trims and loosely wrapped fabrics walk the palace halls. This did not explain, however, the way her dress robes sat tightly against her on this particular day, which she was sure was to blame for the tiredness she felt halfway through her third official meeting of the day. She reminded herself to visit the tailor that week.

“Lady Katara, your next appointment has arrived” Lou appeared out of nowhere and interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, I thought you said I was free the rest of the day?” Katara heavily raised herself from the soft chair she had comfortably been dozing off in.

“Yes, but Lord Zuko arranged you to meet the local oneirocritic guru impromptu this afternoon” Katara laughed out loud, unladylikely, and fixed the tight belt around her “is something wrong my Lady?”

“No, not at all Lou. Lord Zuko just has a silly sense of humour, that’s all” Katara chuckled. “Okay, so where am I meeting them?”

“Right this way.”

Lou led Katara round to the west of the palace, the quieter side. She met Guru Sying in a smoky room full of incense. She had placed several precious stones and branches around her and sat humming. Katara took a seat on the bamboo mat. There was a hot cup of tea in front of her that as she began to sip tasted sour in her mouth; she winced in disgust of the tea and set it down, trying her hardest not to insult the Guru’s kind gesture.

“Tell me of about your dream my Lady” the guru said softly. Katara fiddled with the tight fabric around her to get comfortable, took a deep breath and began to recount her reoccurring nightmare. The guru calmly ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ at different points until she came to an end.

“So what do you think?” Katara asked inquisitively, genuinely interested to see if anyone could make sense of things right now.

“Well, the snake is not an uncommon character in one’s dream” Guru Sying began “the snake often represents fertility. And the snake biting you, is quite clear to me-”

“Wait, you think my dream means I’m, I’m…” Katara stuttered, unable to find the word.

“Well, how long have you been struggling to get in that robe” the Guru pointed out “and does the taste of duraaj tea always repulse you?” she smiled softly and gestured to the full cup sat in front of her.

“No, I can’t be” Katara shook her head

“You’ve been married to the Fire Lord for over two years now, have you not my Lady?”

“Yes”

“A long time indeed. And have you seen your physician recently?”

“No, I…..- LOU!” Katara yelled. Lou slid open the bamboo slides and poked her head through.

“Send for my physician please. Quickly!” She stared at Guru Sying in shock and Guru Sying held out her hands for Katara to take “Your dream is a sign from Agni, Lady Katara” she smiled.

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

Katara sat in the bedroom all evening to escape the chaos of the palace. She slept a few hours until she heard the sounds of Zuko’s voice close by. She could hear him desperately trying to end a conversation as he retired into their quarters. When he made it through past their private commons, into the bedroom, he immediately dropped his heavy robes to the floor and stepped out of the first golden layers of the garment. Katara sat up from the bed and watched him silently until he turned around.

“Oh you’re here!” he smiled a broad smile as he came towards her. “well what did you think of my surprise” he laughed, smugness painted across his face, clearly he thought he had played a successful prank on her “did she get anything right?” he beamed.

“Oh, she was definitely right about one thing” Katara replied.

“Oh wow. I just sent for her to make you laugh, but that’s great if it helped. Tell me about it.” He took a seat beside her on the bed. Katara sat up and tried to speak but nothing came out.

“Katara? Is everything alright? What did she tell you? You have to believe me whatever it was, they’re just superstitious stories. Nothing to worry about” he took her hand in his.

“Well, she said the snake represents… fertility” she began

“Uh-oh, do we need to be more careful” Zuko joked and playfully squeezed her thigh, met with nothing but a serious stare “Sorry, I guess I should leave the jokes to Sokka. And?”

“And, she said I should be looked over by my physician” Katara continued “and… well. Zuko I’ve missed 4 cycles and my robes are tight and I think…” she clung to his hands “I think I may be, be pregnant Zuko.” She took the courage to look up into his eyes. He didn’t blink and she felt the temperature rise in their clasped hands. “Zuko?” she lifted her hands to his face to check for a reaction.

“And you’re sure?” he got out dryly

“Well, it kind of explains everything.” She smiled shyly. Zuko’s eyelashes batted and a hot tear fell and evaporated on his cheek.

“Katara” he began “I love you and you know I want to be so happy in this moment with you” his face fell “but you know how I feel about becoming a…..a father” his lips quivered. Katara had prepared herself for these words. Even when the physician had examined her and excitedly announced her pregnancy, her small smile quickly dissolved when thoughts of Zuko crept into her mind. She had remembered the long nights before their wedding. Zuko had finally opened up and discussed his largest fear. That he would become like his father, Ozai. He told her that as long as he felt that there was any chance of him being anything like his father, he would never father is own children, no matter how much the palace officials begged him. Katara understood him and welcomed his fears to comfort him. She thought, surely as the years passed, he would become confident in his role as Fire Lord and those fears of fatherhood would be destroyed; however, over two years after her wedding and she still drank the medicinal tea once a week to control her cycle. Of course, the tea was never an 100 percent guarantee, however, it had worked so well for them and their schedules with each other and it had been so long since she had had a pregnancy scare.

“Zuko, listen to me. I know you’re scared but you are not like him. You’re nothing like Ozai” Zuko’s face turned. I hurt to hear his name “-and you’ve proved that through your reign so far as fire lord” she held him sturdy.

“You don’t get it. That has nothing to do with who I will be as a father” he gulped

“It has everything to do with who you are as a father Zuko” Katara held onto his shoulder to bring him square onto her. “you are a loving and caring fire lord. You protect your people and are forgiving of their short-comings. You have made so many right decisions in your years in power and these are qualities I know you will be as a father” before Zuko’s head could sink any further Katara caught it in her hand and lifted his eyes to her.

“I don’t want to be like him Katara. I can’t see myself becoming like him” he wept “what he did to my mother, me, my Uncle, even Azula. It was unforgiveable” his hand rose to the scared side of his face. Katara stopped him and place her own hands in his scar. She stroked her thumb across the rough, hot skin and planted and long and soft kiss there.

“Zuko, you would never hurt me or our child. That’s not who you are.” He looked up at her “This child is our chance to continue what you have started as Fire Lord. To continue to spread love and compassion and all the crazy things we’ve learnt together with the Fire Nation. This is the way we ensure our legacy, what we stand for lives on” she pulled his hand to her stomach “I know you’re ready for this, even if you don’t know it yourself” he gave a short reassuring smile.

“You really think I’m ready?” he asked, almost like child. Katara smiled

“I knew you were ready two years ago, when I married you.” She leant her head on his shoulder. He didn’t move “you think I would have married you if I didn’t believe you would be a good father?!” she joked. She felt him settle around her, his hand still on her stomach

“I guess not” he lightly chuckled “It was hard enough to get you to marry me”

“Was not!” she pushed him

“You said NO!”

“-the first time” she giggled “we’re not starting this again” she stood up

“I’m just saying, I’m not someone who likes to ask twice” he followed her to the middle of the room. “So…” he slowly entwined his fingers in hers.

“So, we’ve got this.” She smiled into him “Together” he closed the gap between them and kissed a calming kiss that sank down to her feet. Two loud bangs suddenly echoed through the room, disrupting their stillness.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” they heard a breathless call. They both sighed and shared a small smile at each other.

“I’m coming Lou” Zuko calls back; he shares one last moment with his wife, taking in all her pregnancy aura.

“At least she knocked this time” Katara chuckled.

[smearsyd]

Day Again | Sehun | Part One

Kim Haru knows loss. She knows what it means to miss someone, to find out what isolation looks like in the flesh. These things, she expects them and she patiently waits for the day she may wake up and greet them as griefs of the past.

What she does not expect, is the same grief reflected back in another's face. She doesn’t expect to find solace through this person either, nor does she expect to cherish her days with him, rather than wait them away.

— Or —

I am not bothered to figure the why of this story, but instead to focus on the how. For Kim Haru does not know the why of things, and neither does anyone else. She must come to understand that what she makes of things are far more important than why they happened in the first place.

characters:

+ oh sehun (exo), you as kim haru (because names are important)

what to expect:

+ christmas + friends to lovers + fluff and romance

warnings:

+ mentions of death, grief + sensitive topics

length:

+ five parts + 30k plus total 

read it here: (updating… stay tuned)

+ masterlist + part one + part two + part three 

author’s note: 

+ i want to dedicate this chapter to anyone who has lost a loved one or who is suffering due to the absence of another. in regards to the chapter, this is the heaviest it will get. the rest will be way more fluffy and about the healing process. they will also be a lot longer than this one! so buckle up!! 

if you want to be tagged, please reply to the masterlist! 

“Oppa!” She cried out, eyebrows furrowed as she wiped the powdery flour from her fingers onto the material of her shirt. “Oppa! I n-need help!” Her tears fell like dripped honey as she looked at the ruins around her, smashed eggs running on the counter and loose sugar coating the bottom of her feet. She just wanted to surprise her brother–– she didn’t think it would be this hard.

Her brother rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sight before him, coming to land on her small figure as she frantically tried to brush off her soiled clothes. “And what is this?” He teased, reaching out to take her small fingers in his. “Cooking?”

“Oppa…” her voice barely above an ashamed whisper, “I was making your favorite Christmas dessert, but I forgot how…” she trailed off, fixating her eyes on his feet. “I made a mess and now it won’t be a surprise.”

Her brother’s thumb soothed away the beginnings of crocodile tears, his eyes alight like the comforting warmth of a candle. “How about this,” he proposed, “Oppa will help you write down the recipe so you don’t forget it and then we will make it together.”

“You and me?” She questioned like she didn’t quite believe him.

“You and me,” he promised and watched as her smile bloomed back to life.

“Ready to write it down?” She nodded her head animatedly, the pencil fitting like a foreign object in her grasp. “Okay, repeat after me, you’ll need flour.”

“I got flour.” She checked.

“You’ll need sugar.”

“I got sugar, too.”

“You’ll need two eggs, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t, eggs are easy to remember!”

“What about honey and pine nuts? I bet you didn’t remember those.”

Right, I muttered, I keep forgetting the pine nuts. Pine nuts and honey, pine nuts and honey, pine nuts and honey… but what else was there? My fingers tapped against the metal cart as I searched up and down the aisle. Sleigh Bells was playing through the store and the aisles wafted the warming scent of cinnamon and pie.

My eyes drilled through the cart as if it could whisper to me what I wished to hear. I got flour, sugar, eggs, honey and pine nuts, but what else did he say? My next breath came out like a pent-up sigh and I found myself deciding to lean my weight onto the silent cart rather than beg it for anymore answers. Twenty years later and I still can’t remember.

If I make them next week, I’ll break our yearly tradition— decorating the tree isn’t the same without snacks. Do I mind coming back to the store? My nose scrunched up as I figured the answer to that.

My fingers inched towards my phone, my mouth going dry as I scrolled through my contacts to find his name. Oppa slid across the screen and then I was listening to the constant humming of the dial rings. My stomach was starting to feel queasy, but I ignored it as a small smile tugged on the corners of my lips; I know he’ll tease me for forgetting. At least I remembered pine nuts and syrup. I scoffed, no Haru, honey, honey, pine nuts and—

—It went to voicemail.

I lowered the phone from my grasp, my hands beginning to tremor with a gut-wrenching plea. Why did I do that? My eyes blurred as I reluctantly brought the phone back to my ear and even though I knew what was coming, I couldn’t numb myself fast enough, or turn away like I know I should.

And then it hit. His voice, like he never left me.

“Shhh, I’m recording,” he had company that day, the boys in his room and me outside the door trying to weasel in. “Hi, I’m obviously busy with more important things, but you can try again if you really want to! No promises!” The recording cut off in the middle of that special open-mouthed laugh of his that made anyone in the room smile. I always thought his voicemail was ridiculous, especially when I was the one subject to being ignored in light of more important things, but now, I’d call sometimes just to hear it.

Forgetting the recipe, that was one thing. To forget this, though?

A small part of me whispered that I had known all along— maybe I had, but that thought was too much in of itself for me to grasp. That twisted kind of heart-in-your throat feeling fell onto me like burning coal and all I could hear was his gentle voice echoing in my mind. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

A warm tear strayed down my cheek, passing through a flurry of curses that I couldn’t seem to contain. Fuck it.

I abandoned the sugar, the eggs and flour, the pine nuts and honey too. Bodies strolled by me, but I could no longer hear the jazz or smell the cinnamon and warm chocolate; his face filled my vision, and the time since I have last seen his smile felt infinitely isolated in a dream that always seems to evade me. Instead, the time that has passed haunts me with a warped jeer.

Has it been a day? A week? A month? What is a year if it’s just a blur of days without him?

I let myself believe that the entrance was the exit from these emotions; let me outside, then I can think of him in the way I wish to— smiling and making cookies in the mess of a kitchen that will always be his more than it will be mine.

The problem, though, was simply getting there.

I felt pulled back by myself, stumbling step-over-step. My legs were jelly, bending and pulling, forbidding. My body wanted me to stay, my body wanted relief, even if it was a simple moment of remembering him. I, however, wasn’t sure I could survive such a thing— for thoughts of him always conjured my last thoughts of him. Those were cold, iced over even. Those thoughts were buried ten feet below.

My eyes focused on the setting sky, and I knew then that I was almost out and free from the shock and fear of what it meant to be so alone. But then I collided headfirst into what felt like a wall of warming wool and hard chest and that setting sky disappeared from around it.

My body sighed in relief, but I exclaimed in shock, quickly pushing myself back from the tall male I had ran squarely into with a stream of apologies flying from my lips.

“Oh god, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” I quickly bowed and hurried away— I couldn’t even pull myself together enough to look at the said male as I feverishly brushed another tear from my cheek. All I wanted was out, get out, get out, get out.

I blanked.

My hand was embraced by another’s and slowly I was drawn into an embrace so tight, so secure, that for a second, fear drained from me. Those same hands that grasped my own began to run soothing tracks down the narrow field that was my back. My muscles eased and a breath filled my lungs that smelled of fresh pine, light cologne, and something so familiar I didn’t think I was capable of forgetting it— that’s when I realized who was holding me.  

“Sehun?”

Shhh, he calmed. “It’s me, just me.”

“Sehun.”

His response came in the form of a hum— to calm me or to calm himself, I wasn’t sure, but I clung to him nonetheless. Arms that hadn’t known touch in so long knitted themselves so tightly through the soft sweater he had on; My hands too, gripped the material like they were afraid to let go.

Maybe I am afraid, maybe I have been for a long time.

We pulled back from one another’s embrace after what felt like the opposite of a transient hour, apologetic nods made to the innocent bystanders trying to fit their groceries around us. But then I looked back and was taking in the pooling warmth of his endless brown gaze and the grip of his fingers winding back through mine. Those eyes of his, they were always so stormy, so conflicted, but never for me.

I didn’t know what to say. Are there enough words to fill a year of silence? Enough to explain why he found me crying in a grocery store like some unstable asshole? Perhaps there were, but he didn’t seem to know what they would be either.

“You look different,” was what I settled on before he could ask what was wrong. He ran a hand through his dyed blonde hair, an unsure gleam crossing his eyes. His sunset-like sweater contrasted nicely against it and he was even wearing a pair of glasses that were different from the boxy ones he wore in grade school. “It looks good, different, but good.” I added as a second thought.

“Yeah?” He smiled one of those small Sehun smiles, the one where he’s actually really happy, but isn’t sure how to show it. There was a list shoved haphazardly in his pocket and instead of wearing his usual clean-cut loafers, slippers adorned his feet. I had the thought that the person inside was the same, but the person I was seeing was unfamiliar. “Jisung and I did it right before moving back.”

My eyes stopped roaming what seemed like new terrain to land squarely on his. “Moving back?”

His shoulders tensed and I could tell that he had things he needed to say, but from the set of his grimace, I wasn’t sure he would. “I’m sorry I didn’t call… We got in a week ago since my graduation was postponed a semester. I got your card in the mail too, I even bought a post card to send back but I never ended up writing it. Jisung kept bothering me about it, he was mad at me for not calling more often…” He trailed off, his voice caked with the word sorry.

I squeezed his finger, “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re home.” I gulped down the feeling of dejected distaste. Had he moved on? Was he able to forget, unlike myself?  We both stared down at the white, grimy tile like long lost twins, our feet shuffling back and forth and my fingers inching to separate, yet begging that I force them to stay.

“I just wasn’t sure how— I didn’t know what— it was hard.” He sighed, coming to look back at me. “I know you understand this more than anyone.”

It was my turn to look sorry, a shame like the shattering of glass overcoming me. A part of me felt relieved, though. He too, must feel the weight that surrounds me, that surrounds him. I can’t blame him for trying to swim to shore, even if it means leaving me to drown.

“Yeah, I would I guess.” I found myself confessing, my mouth filling with an acrid taste. “It’s alright, though, we seem to find one another anyhow.” Sehun gave me a faint smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Is your brother here?” I asked.

He scratched the back of his head in assumed apprehension. “Technically Jisung is in the car waiting. But yeah, I forgot to buy groceries and now I’m stuck trying to figure out dinner.” He let out an exasperated chuckle that fell silent as he looked at me, his head tilting to the side in question. “You’ve been crying, what happened?”

“About that…” I murmured, still not quite believing in my actions. “I did something really stupid.”

“That’s nothing new.” He teased, his head etching with a sarcastic tilt that I hadn’t realized I’d missed.

“Actually,” I huffed, a smile finding its way onto my face despite the situation— maybe it was just easier to pretend than to give it more worth. “I came in to buy the ingredients for my brother’s Christmas dessert, but I forgot—��

“—you forgot the ingredients?” He finished with a slight bend to his lips. I nodded. “And let me guess,” he let out a breathy chuckled, “you got to the pine nuts and honey and couldn’t remember the rest.” I nodded again. It felt like the air had gotten lighter between the two of us, as if we had finally relaxed with one another. His eyes gazed down at me with a soft tenderness akin to lit candles, the only gaze in a room full of people that truly understands. I felt for a moment, that maybe he has done the same as I this past year.

“It’s a good thing I remember it then.”

I couldn’t be surprised, it was Sehun after all and he always was the one to come swooping in last minute. But still, I said: “Do you really?”

“You are the one that forgets things between the two of us, not me. I’ll tell you, but at a price.”

I cut my eyes at him. “And what would that be?”

“Have dinner with me?”  

I pretended to look like I wasn’t completely thrilled, but even as a small girl, I was never able to hide how much I missed him. I guess, in a way, that had always been our relationship. It wasn’t until this moment that I remembered— Sehun, too, was always with us when we made the desserts. He liked doing the last steps because Oppa hating peeling ginger and I was always too small to help with that part.

“Ginger, sesame oil, and soju… you always brought them over.”

His face lit up and it felt like his warmth radiated into me. “I knew you’d remember.”

…

“I’ve missed this,” he spoke quietly. Sehun was turned away from me, cleaning the dishes that had piled up from dinner. Soap was crawling up his arm and I could tell that he was struggling to keep his sweater from falling down the bend of his elbow. It was burnt orange and a little oversized, but I remember him getting it as a present from my brother a few years back. The memory was a warm one— it made me want to smell it, even though I know any traces of my brother was long, long gone from its material.

“Me too, it’s so quiet here by myself.” I rolled the sleeve back up for him and he sent me a small smile of gratitude. He never was one to show too much emotion, usually letting his words express how he was feeling, but now, it seemed he had less to say and more to show.

I could see Jisung, Sehun’s younger brother, asleep on the couch, his hand gripped around the TV remote and soft voices coming from the device. It was comforting, even something so small as them being here feels as if it has brought life to the silent house. A big part of me, though, already felt itself hollowing out, anticipating their departure and the vibrating creaks on the empty, wooden floor. I’ve never felt something so empty before.  

“Do you invite friends over ever?” He questioned, looking over his shoulder to take a glimpse at me. His eyes never seemed to miss anything.

I kept mum and continued chopping the pine nuts. I have never been the best at keeping friends, maybe I was just bad at relationships in general, but still, I felt ashamed for losing the friends I did have. Sehun seemed to take my silence as an answer, a light hum falling from his lips. He turned the water off and came to my side, picking up the ginger to start grating it.

“I honestly didn’t make any new friends either…” He whispered, like a confession. “It feels wrong to let anyone come in his place. I just—,” he stopped, taking a deep breath. “I see him everywhere and there’s still things I go to tell him all the time, but I can’t. Maybe that’s the worst part about all of this,” he sniffed, bumping my arm as if we weren’t talking about such a heavy subject, “forgetting that he’s gone rather than remembering that he is.

“I guess what I mean is that I miss my best friend. I miss him a lot and I miss you too. I miss the three of us together.”

I smiled at him. My eyes were watery, and tears threatened to spill over, but there was a certain kind of heart comfort that came with just talking about it rather than trying to forget.

“I understand that. In a way, I didn’t think I would ever need more than just the two of you. Now that he’s gone and you’re busy with grad school, I feel lost, I guess?” I breathed out, shrugging my shoulders.

I pushed the crushed pine nuts into a bowl and fetched the bottle of soju. The glass seemed foreign in my grasp and even as I popped the cap open, I could hear Oppa telling me not to ever drink any, that we were different than our parents. The small bottle seems powerless now compared to then, but I know he was just looking out for the both of us. Sometimes though, it feels like he spent his life looking out for others, maybe in the end, that’s why he fell short looking out for his self.

“I think,” I started again, pouring the measured soju into the batter before placing it back in the cabinet, “that he would want me to take my time healing instead of rushing into things.”

Sehun hummed, adding his ginger to the batter as well. I thought that we made a good team; the two of us together like this was a comfort I hadn’t felt since he left. “He always was wise like that, huh? Maybe he was even years before his time.”

“So are you,” I returned his arm bump from before. “You always know what to say and when to say it, that’s why you guys worked so well together. The two of you were always so good about taking care of me, and now Jisung too.”

Sehun’s eyes travelled over to his brother’s sleeping form, a cloudy haze taking over his already stormy eyes. “I’m not too sure how much of that is true anymore. I’ve been so scattered these days. I’m still trying to figure out how I graduated.” He chuckled, “And when my birthday passed and I was suddenly twenty six, all I could think about was how we were all just fifteen and fucking around—” he paused, “well I guess you would have been around twelve then, but you know what I mean.”

I smiled and stirred the batter. “Yeah, we moved into this house when I was twelve. I remember Oppa threw a party and all of your friends came over. Jisung was so young, but you brought him along and he ended up just sleeping on the couch like he is now.”

We both snickered from the memory, but Sehun’s eyes turned softer as he looked at his younger brother. I knew all too well what he was thinking. Just as my brother saw it as his responsibility to care for me, Sehun sees it as his to take care of Jisung. The four of us seemed congruent in that way, put on the same path, with the same people, in order to make things a little easier. I guess somewhere along the path, things got a little twisted and we are still trying to work out the kinks.

Sehun took the bowl of batter from my hands and began pouring it into the square dish for baking. He had an apron on over his sweater and at some point, it had become covered in flour as if the bag had been dumped on him. There was a smudge of batter on his cheek too that was the same honey blonde color of his hair.

“Have you considered moving?” He asked casually, slowly working the batter into the pan. I sighed at his question in response, leaning against the cool counter in a slump. He quirked his eye at me with that spit it out look that had my lips pulling up on the ends.

“I have had some serious thoughts,” I drew out. “But, I’m not too sure.”

“Why not?” He asked, seeming somewhat surprised.

His focus turned to me and some of the batter began to spill out onto the counter as his arm relaxed to the side. I jumped to catch it, fitting my hand over his and steadying it back over the baking pan. His palm was warm and soft against my own. I looked up to him, only to find his brown orbs already centered on my own in a penetrating gaze. There was a streak of the pillowy batter laying upon his cheek and a smudge of probably sugar dotted his nose.

His eyes traced the movements of my fingers as I took my hand from his and gently wiped away the smudge of batter from his cheek with my thumb. I plopped it into my mouth and tasted of it.

“Maybe we should add vanilla to the recipe next time.”

Sehun appeared lost in thought, his eyes, however, burned into mine as he followed the path between me and the small of my fingers. His lips tightened before he pulled away, shaking his head slightly as if to clear certain thoughts. Or maybe he was just agreeing with me.

I watched as he placed the batter in the steamer box before coming to lean back against the counter next to me. I thought that cooking seemed to suit his character.

“Anyways,” I breathed out, disturbing the silence that had fallen upon us. “I feel bad about moving out. I mean all of his stuff is here and we made so many memories in this house. Even though moving would be nice since it would be closer to the university and the city, I’m afraid of what he would think if he was here.” I looked around, and Sehun did too. “He loved this house.”

“He did,” he added, “but it’s just a house, and he loved you more. If moving is what’s going to be better for you, then he would want that over you staying somewhere just for him— especially since he’s gone. He’d want you to think of yourself first.”

I sniffed, my nose crinkling in distant distaste. I didn’t think the words he’s gone would ever sound right. “There’s a house,” I finally settled on saying. “It’s really nice and the owner worked down the price for me. It’s actually really close to the neighborhood you moved into.”

Sehun’s eyes grew brighter, “Really? Will you show me?”

I nodded and he followed me into my room where my laptop was. He plopped down next to me as I navigated to the photos. Our bodies were practically resting against one another’s and I could feel his warmth seeping into me. I had the lingering urge to rest my head on his shoulder, but I pushed it down as the screen loaded and he let out a noise of approval.

“It suits you so well.” I could see the smile through his voice even though I didn’t turn to look up at him. “He would want you to get it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Maybe it was his kind words, or maybe it was the fact that his arm had at some point slithered around my body, encapsulating me next to him, but I realized that I trusted him in a way that was much different than the way in which I trusted my brother. With them both, it was natural, but Sehun brought a sort of calming reassurance that spoke further to soothe my mind.

Perhaps it was simply because I knew he was the only other person who shared the same emotions as I did, that could relate to my memories and remember with me the good and the bad. I understood that he too, felt the same way about me.

At some point, my head did find its way to his shoulder and his to mine. We stayed like that for some time, folded around one another, before he spoke.

“You know, we’re going to be okay. Right?” His statement, or his question rather, embedded itself in me. It was the same one I had been asking myself for the past year. The uncertainty in his voice brought out a wounded kind of need to make sure we were, regardless of whether or not I really knew the answer.

I took his hand in mine and he threaded our fingers together tightly. “One day at a time,” I assured him. “We’ll get better one day at a time, even if we get stuck at the beginning and have to start over. You and I will get there.”

“We’ll get there together.”

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[nemo-draco]

The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up���

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

[reallybadfeeling]

My Obikin Playlist Masterpost Part 2

Not that anybody was really waiting for this, but here is the second part of the playlist with an explanation for each song. If you are interested in reading my rant on the first 20 songs, you can check the post I made last week HERE.

Without further ado, I'll leave you to my rant for songs 21 to 40.

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❧ One in a Million - Midnight to Monaco

Tears fall like acid rain and it burns me through the skin It's taken everything from me, I've lost my innocence The bats brings the night today, watch them turn the sky to black Like a gun that fires that sound again Frightens me until the bitter end I can't keep holding on And I hide away I need it to keep me from breaking down And I'm under Baby I can't carry on, dead and I've been buried on Baby, I was one in a million Even if our love was strong, take me down and let it fall Baby, I was one in a million And I was holding, burning, waking, turning Tasting blood and losing time I want to get a hold of myself Baby, I was one in a million [...] And I need it to keep me from thinking I won't find my wings no more

This entire song is about how someone's life gets absolutely destroyed by drug abuse. Or at least, that's how I always interpreted this. But drug abuse always makes me think about any kind of obsessions doing exactly the same thing. So I love this song for Anakin in particular. That "I was one in a million" giving me this "Chosen One" vibe. Like he got lost on the way to what he was supposed to be, and now that he's fallen he has no clue how to get back to what he was supposed to be, that one in a million.

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❧ Losing My Religion - R.E.M.

The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no, I've said too much I set it up That's me in the corner That's me in the spotlight Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no, I've said too much I haven't said enough [...] Every whisper, of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions Trying to keep an eye on you Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool [...] Consider this the hint of the century Consider this the slip That brought me to my knees, failed

Another classic song that is in basically any ships' playlist. And it fits so much with unrequited love (or pining in general). How can I not think of Obi-Wan trying desperately to be a good Jedi while he's well aware of his feelings for Anakin?

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❧ Hurt Me - Lapsley

Can't look at you the same way, anticipatin' heartbreak And I know, and I know, and I know I'm puttin' on a brave face to meet you in the same place And I know, and I know, and I know Gotta let my mind find another space 'Cause I heard these scars never go away And now I'm runnin' out of ways to numb the pain So if you're gonna hurt Why don't you hurt me a little bit more? Just dig a little deeper Push a little harder than before [...] Like breathing underwater, what's the law and order? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know You're sitting in a corner, hiding til it's over And it shows, and it shows, and it shows Buildin' up my walls just to tear them down Tell me that it's love, force me to drown Buildin' up my walls just to tear them down Tell me that it's love And I thought you said you still loved me [...] And I'm counting down the seconds that we have I can see the end in sight, at last So if you're gonna hurt me Why don't you hurt me a little bit more?

This entire song makes me think of one of those situations where both of them are pining and convinced that the other is about to tell them something that would end up breaking their heart. Basically first half is Obi-Wan knowing from the start that they won't work, maybe because he thinks Anakin is in love with Padmé and that's what Anakin wants to talk about; second half is Anakin, sure that Obi-Wan would deny having feelings for him because of how much he loves being a Jedi so he tries to be a better Jedi for the sake of Obi-Wan. Because I love the trope of both of them being too oblivious to realize they are in love.

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❧ The Shelter of My Love - Astropol

When you have nothing to lose No one dear and no one to care for Non one sees you but I do I'll take you in I won't let you go Oh the middle of the night Black as tar and eager to hold you Just as pretty as my love Just as hungry Just as eternal [...] When you have no bridge to burn No place to go, no place to return to No one loves you like I do I love you [...] When you have nothing to lose And nightfall comes, eager to hold you No one loves you like I do I love you I love you, I love you Oh shelter of my faith All the peril, all the weight Mighty glorious The shelter of my faith Oh shelter of my trust All the longing, all the lust God will help you if you lost the shelter of my trust

I'm perfectly aware that this is a song about faith. It's basically like a call to pray because even when you are lost the one person that will always be there for you is God. BUT, this actually works pretty well for the Jedi Order too. And if we think of how Anakin joined the Jedi, how he felt like the only thing he would lose is his mother, it kinda makes sense with these lyrics. And even Obi-Wan: he was given to the Jedi when he was so young that that's the only life he knows. At the same time, it can be about Anakin and Obi-Wan finding that solace in each other too, because sure, the entire Order is there to support them. But it's almost like it's their last option to them, because when in need the first person they go to is the other.

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❧ The Night We Met - Lord Huron

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

You should know me by now. If a song that is basically perfect for Obi-Wan post RotS, I'm gonna find it. And this one is just PERFECT! Like, Obi-Wan absolutely feels like he owes something to the universe because he is the one who failed Anakin, who allowed him to fall. So I imagine him wanting a do-over, a chance to stay away from Anakin so that Anakin can be better and his own heart can't be broken in such a terrible way. Basically, this is also perfect for a time traveler Obi-Wan trying to fix things from day 1.

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❧ Danger - JKAY feat Shola Ama

I'm a million reasons in And I'm going out on a limb But I can't, no I can't deny Cause I, I fell in love with danger And I think I found a stranger in you The boy that I knew, left me torn into two And I don't know what to do

Nothing fancy about this one, just Obi-Wan realizing there is a wild side to the cute, totally unable to flirt young teenager he took care of for so long. Basically something to write smut on. You all know you need these kind of songs too. (And I picked the acoustic version because it gives me more soft love-making vibes, but the original one is perfect for a more passionate kind of mood).

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❧ Amandoti - Giovanni Lindo Ferretti

Loving you makes me weary, guts my insides (It’s) Something that feels like laughing in tears Loving you makes me weary, it makes me sorrowful What can you do (about it), that’s life That’s life, my (life) [...] Loving you comforts my sleepless nights It’s something that replaces old dead flames Loving you comforts me, it gives me joy What can you do (about it), that’s life But (that) life is my life Love me once more, do it softly One year, one month, one hour (Do it) Hopelessly Love me once more, do it softly Just for an hour But let it be forever

I was forced to put the live version from the original composer in the playlist, but a couple of weeks ago I posted a link to Maneskin's cover of this song (which, isn't on Spotify). You can check it out HERE, with a full translation of the lyrics (yes, Italian songs will always be a thing for this playlist, get over it). Like I said in the tags of that post, this is just another one of those songs that give me post RotS Obi-Wan feels. Just him all alone and heartbroken wishing he could feel Anakin's love just once more. Simply perfection.

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❧ Lemon Eyes - Meg Myers

Hush now baby, there's no need to cry Let me wipe away those lemon eyes All your worries, such a waste of time You can't even see how much you're mine You're so bitter, bitter, bitter, yellow Settle, settle, got to settle down, okay Listen, listen, you listen, yellow It's a killer, a killer, a killer jealousy Lemon eyes, you're mine Yellow eyes, all mine I bet you wanna walk away, run away, look away, turn away Honey you can't hide Lemon eyes, all mine

Do I even have to explain this? It's basically perfect for all of Anakin's issues with jealousy, but with what yellow eyes mean in this fandom it could absolutely be about Sith!Anakin. It's just such a fitting song for these two, with Obi-Wan trying to reason with a very unreasonable Anakin... (And I might have anonymously suggested to someone to listen to it as a good song for their fic. *coff coff* @tennessoui *coff coff*)

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❧ 10 Years - Daði Freyr

We've been together for a decade now Still everyday I'm lovin' you more If I could do it all again I'd probably do it all the same as before I don't wanna know what would've happened If I never had had your love I didn't became myself before I met you I don't wanna know what would've happened If I never had felt you love Everything about you, I like We started out so fast Now we can take it slower Love takes some time Takes a little time, so take a litte time As it ages like wine [...] And just when I thought that my heart was full I found place that I never explored You're so fascinating And I can't remember the last time I was bored [...] How does it keep getting better? Everyday our love finds a new way to grow The time we spend together Simply feels good We got a good thing going

How could I not put this song in this playlist? Like, it can literally be about how in the many years together, their love for each other grew and grew, and changed to get better with time. But it can also be just Anakin and Obi-Wan in an established relationship, since this is technically a song about a ten years anniversary. I just LOVE IT. It's super sweet and we all need fluff sometimes.

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❧ Different Kind Of Love - Kid Runner

It was always you there Dancing towards me Grabbing both my hands like Here we go, here we go again Maybe it was destiny We were so familiar But you caught me staring And I don't know, I don't know, I guess [...] And when you're near me I can't help but be under your spell Can I make you believe you're the only one I need? [...] It must've been something A switch in my brain It kept me in motion It drove me insane It must've been something Something you said You're pulling me under Holding me close Inside my head Oh, it's a different kind of love And when I see your face I know, I know You got me going Oh, and this could be enough I'm dreaming wide awake I know, I know

Classic friends to lovers AU song that works wonders with Anakin's kind of love, all obsessive and stuff. Definitely can picture teen Anakin pining over Obi-Wan to the tune of this, all awkward boners at absolutely inappropriate times and Obi-Wan never truly pointing it out, because he doesn't want to make Anakin even more uncomfortable.

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❧ Ruthless - GIRLI

Home? What's that? I got a doll's house with a few cracks Grew too tall, now I'm poking out the attic My feet are in the basement 'cause I never wanna hack it Life, what's that? Life, what's that? [...] Take my soul, Take me down Take me back to the beginning of this when I was still innocent Me, sorry who? I'm a kid in a grown-up suit Looking in the mirror tryna figure out who's Banging on the glass 'cause they're tryna break through Is it me? Is it you? Think it's me, wish I knew Take me, use me, screw me over Play me like I like losing Trip me, trick me, drug me Say you love me but you like cheating You're the only one to blame You made me this way Guess that's why I'm so damn Ruthless You made me, you made me You made me ruthless You made me, you made me You made me ruthless Only way to do it When you break me and I lose it Oh, you made me You made me so damn fucking ruthless [...] Yeah it's tragic All the bad bits Made me so damn ruthless No, it's not me I don't wanna be Ruthless

Being a woman, I know perfectly that this song is about how sometimes women have to grow up to be mean because of all of the abuse they go throw in their life. But I kind of see Anakin as this person that would absolutely blame everyone else for his fall to the Dark Side and this works so well! Like, the doll house is a metaphor for how the Jedi Order was supposed to be his home, but in the end he felt like he was used, like the Jedi told him they loved him just to trick him into doing whatever they wanted, basically cheating him of a simpler life with his mom. And even the looking in the mirror thing could be when he's already in the Vader suit and he doesn't know if Vader is what he was supposed to be all along or somewhere inside him there's this young innocent child trying to get out. What can I say, most of the times I have Obi-Wan feelings. But every once in a while I find something twisted enough to give me Anakin/Vader feelings too.

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❧ All or Nothing - Wild Youth

I remember when we were younger We used to stay up late We used to watch the sun go down, the sun go down Yeah at night I, I think about ya How I spent so long living without ya You're all I need, the air I breathe So hold tight, I'm coming 'Cause it's all or nothing I'm a million miles away and I feel so low I've been driving all night just to get back home to you To you See the sunrise, it's a classi break Driving down roads that I used to take with you With you Every streetlight, new horizon Start to wonder if you realise Oh, we were vain, was more than friends So hold tight, I'm coming 'Cause it's all or nothing

Okay, this is kind of perfect for a very specific kind of AU. Like, the "they used to be childhood friends, then got separated by life, but they were always meant for each other, so after meeting once by chance after years separated, they can't go back to their life, they have to stay with the other" kind of specific AU. The song might work with how the Clone Wars kept them separate too, but... yeah. It's kinda specific. Sorry not sorry.

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❧ Someone Like You - Noah Kahan feat. Joy Oladokun

Guess I'm a mess now Lost with my head down I haven't heard from you in weeks You must have left town I can't go back now And all that I have now Are those feelings I felt Knowing that no one else can bring them back out And I've been trying to find a silver lining But I can't But I can't Now that I can't hold you I wish that I had tried to Do more not to lose you Now that I can't find you Because the second you left, yeah the voice in my head screamed "What did I do?" Now you're gone and all I want is someone like you

Once again, ignoring that this is a song about a couple breaking up after one of the two cheated because this is also perfect for Anakin confessing his love for Obi-Wan as soon as he's a Knight. He was sure that would make Obi-Wan accept his love and try to get in a relationship, instead Obi-Wan panicked and asked to get sent as far away from Anakin as he could. So of course Anakin is filled with regret about his confession.

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❧ Big Boy - Charlotte Cardin

Maybe if I spell it out Big boy will take me on proper You nailed my heart to your wall You never dusted off after [...] Maybe if I'm a broken wing Big boy in my nest You nailed my heart to your wall And disposed of the rest of me With your push and shove Like what's love ain't love But it's love to me My boy is not a man yet My boy is not a man yet But boy do I love it when you kiss my neck Oh boy last night was perfect You're changing my mind Like what's mine ain't mine Be mine to be Maybe if we try again Big boy we could have it my way You nailed my heart to your wall But it was damaged anyways

Another song to write smut to, but smut with feels. Mainly Obi-Wan's, that maybe feels like Anakin played with him just so that they could sleep together, but never actually tried to put a pin on what their relationship is supposed to be after. And Obi-Wan realizes that part of the reason is that Anakin is still so young and maybe he's the one that made a mistake. Like, he's not even sure that what he feels is real, but he still keeps following what Anakin wants because what is the alternative after all?

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❧ Home with You - Marie Dahlstrom

Happy to be home with you Happy to wake up with you Even after all that you've benne through Happy that you feel the same Hope that I can ease the pain Happy to come by 'Cause you just give me life And I love spending time with you It's easy when I want you like that I don't regret it even if you might think That I've got Plenty other reasons in my head Plenty other questions still unsaid Nobody knows where you'll go but I'm here [...] I don't understand it all Still I will accept your flaws Just the way that you're accepting mine No, I'm not really one to judge We can laugh it off because It's just one life for you and I and I know [...] Feels so good when it's You by my side I could just stay all night I could just stay all night I love the things you do Nobody knows where we'll go but I'm here Baby, whenever you need me Baby come over, baby come over Whenever you need I will always be by your side

This song can honestly fit multiple things. It can absolutely be Obi-Wan accepting that Anakin reaches out for him only in certain situations and him always being open to it, no matter how their relationship isn't really the traditional kind of relationship (like, a friends with benefits kind of deal). But it can also be Obi-Wan and Anakin getting together when Anakin is already Vader, so Obi-Wan is slowly falling to the Dark Side too. You can also just use this as another song to write soft love making too since it's so slow and soft. Or just do whatever you want with it.

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❧ Hands Tied - Beatrich

You got me home sick for your arms The arms that keep me close But you just slip though my fingers Like I'm tryna catch a ghost I'd travel to the moon and back For you and all that you could say is That you didn't ask for that You'd never ask I'd travel to the moon and back For you and all that you could say is That you didn't ask for that You'd never And you stand there Looking at me with my hands tied And how foolish Foolish of me to let this one slide I'm terrified The roots are way too deep And there is no way out You just stand there Looking at me with my hands tied

Huge vibes of Anakin being mad in love with Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan pushing him away because he sees Anakin as a brother, not as a lover. And there's all kind of pining from Anakin because of the unrequited love and he tries to do crazy stuff for Obi-Wan hoping he will fall in love with him but it fails... Yeah, that's the angst that hurts in the best way! (But, you know, can totally be reversed to Obi-Wan in love with Anakin in a canon scenario with Anakin married to Padmé.)

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❧ Same Bed - Lola Young

I'm too quick to judge, too fast to fuck If we're lonely and I'm No good in love, 'cause the last time I ended up a little dead inside Sorry I lied, I do not want you, no Sorry my pride's a little too high To let you know I cried when you said you had to go, baby [...] (whispered) Fuck then, don't do this to me now Don't say my name when you're talking to me Don't say we're on the same page Don't look away when you walk into me I like the pain, I like the pain I'm making it hard for you to move on And be lonely 'cause I'm So good with words that the last time I broke his heart [...] I got a bit drunk yesterday evening and I Told you some things I didn't mean, oh did I? Hate it, I hate it when I get complacent I love it when you pull that face and we make mistakes Utterly wasted And wake up in the same bed In the same t-shirt I told you I loved you in The same regrets Like wearing the t-shirt I told you I love you in [...] I only like you when you're naked At least, that's what I proved to myself Can't make a fool of myself, baby God, it's so frustrating, making such a fool of myself Gotta make do with myself, baby I only like you when you're naked At least, that's what I proved to myself You make a fool of myself, baby Let's overcomplicate it, maybe just lose ourselves

Back with the complicated relationship and the angst. Can see this in a canon compliant AU with both Anakin and Obi-Wan not really wanting to admit they are in love with each other, but somehow they always end up sleeping together, and telling the other how much they love them just to regret all of it the day after. Basically making things complicated for no reason other than Obi-Wan not wanting to break the rules/his belief that he's meant for infinite sadness, but also because Anakin can't give up on this twisted love despite how much it hurts him and being petty in trying to make Obi-Wan suffer just as much.

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❧ Ghost - Harper

Not putting lyrics here because this entire song gives me Obi-Wan on Tatooine post-RotS vibes. Like, he's literally on the planet Anakin came from, there to protect Anakin's kids. OF COURSE he sees Anakin's "ghost". Like, he sees so much of Anakin in Luke when he grows up. And it feels kind of fitting as a punishment for Obi-Wan to be slowly going crazy because he keeps being haunted by this image of Anakin around him. Literally this line: "why you gotta make me weak to make me stronger". That's Obi-Wan trying to get over this love for Anakin and realizing that he has to mourn and suffer before he becomes stronger and able to get free from this ghost's hold. (But, you know, Anakin's ghost might even be actually Anakin, in a scenario where Anakin is actually trapped inside of Vader and trying to get free by reaching out to Obi-Wan for help.)

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❧ Qualcosa di Grande - Cesare Cremonini

What happened, you changed You are not the same Or are you still the one That grew up with me What happened, you ran away And with you so did my life I searched for it, I searched for it But I found it only in you There's something important between us That you can never change Not even if you want to But there's something important between us That you can never forget Not even if you want to What happened, you fell You fell too low and now you try to climb back up But it's a struggle you don't want [...] What happened, your light Your light is obscured By someone that I know And that took you away from me What happened, your star Your star eclipsed And now (I dare you to) shine from the darkness without me

Yet another song that gives me RotS feels. It's obviously a break up song, a song about regrets and struggling to move on. So of course in it I see Anakin falling to the Dark Side and Obi-Wan trying to remind him of what is between the two of them so that Anakin comes back to him. (If you want to read the complete translation, you can check it out here.)

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❧ Dark Side - Phoebe Ryan

At your worst, you're the best Baby I don't want another version, no Hard to love, hard to trust But don't change Don't be a better person for me 'Cuz I'm in love with your dark side I'm in love with your dark side So don't turn on the light [...] Even if it hurts, I want you heart Even at your worst, I love you hard If you wanna keep me, go too far

Another song that is more of a both!Sith AU but also something Vaderwan would work honestly. I like the twisted nature of this kind of love so much in fics. Can absolutely works with any version of Anakin or/and Obi-Wan being the bad guy in the story.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

All done! All 20 new songs I added to the original playlist explained away. Like last time, I hope you find any of this entertaining or useful. If any of this inspires your creativity, don't be shy and tag me on your stuff. I'll gladly read it/watch it/enjoy it.

[padfootagain]

New Beginning

Here we go for our first wintery fic for my winter event! For our first cute little story, I have chosen to write trope oops with Caspian ;)

So, let's get drunk at New Year's Eve and confess things we didn't mean to say out loud, shall we :D

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3565

It's cold outside. There's snow falling from the heavens all the way down to get caught on the branches of trees, and leaves of bushes and down to the blades of grass. The world is completely covered by a cold white blanket, that shushes the sounds and makes time slow down. It's a comforting season despite the cold weather, or so has Caspian always thought at least. He has always found something peaceful in the white landscapes, something soothing in the falling snowflakes. And then, there is Christmas, his favourite time of year. New Year's Eve is soon to follow, bringing change in its wake. A new year always kind of means a new beginning after all, a sense of something new even if one's life does not change. New year, new resolutions, new goals, new hopes…

For now, though, waiting patiently for the new year to come and the ball to be finally over, all that this evening means for Caspian is a new glass full of wine.

The King of Narnia has never hold in his heart the ceremonies and public appearances, and to him, all balls end up challenging. He has to be careful in his choice of words all evening through, he has to stay polite, and dance with all the important ladies. His duties are a weight upon his shoulders there more than ever. The mask he has made for himself a long time ago, that he wears as the King instead of Caspian, has to remain perfectly placed across his features.

But tonight more than ever before, the mask is so hard to keep on. Despite his best efforts, his hands are shaking, his shoulders bend under the weight of an invisible burden, his smile seems to crack at the corners and the joy is taken away from his eyes. Instead, there is a full glass of wine in his hand at all times through the night.

He has stopped dancing, although the rest of his guests enjoy the joyful music and twirl in the warm candlelight, silk and pearl and gold and silver shining under the flames, like twinkling stars moving fast throughout a foreign sky. He can't keep his eyes on them, they make his head spin. So instead, he drinks more red wine, and his dark brown eyes travel in your search, although he knows he won't find you there.

Of course, it's all because of you. These days, it seems like everything he does, however he feels, is because of you. He's happy because he can see you, he's sad because you are absent, he dreams of you at night and his mind drifts to the memory of your eyes during long meetings. It feels strange, to get his life pulled out of balance and thrown to rotate around a new star, a change of his centre of gravity he did not expect and yet cannot fight either. There is something out of control in the way he loves you.

Oh, he hasn't spoken a word about the way he feels to anyone, he would not dare, and especially not to you. You are oblivious of the effect you have on him. You know nothing about his pounding heart and how you haunt his thoughts all day long and his dreams through the night. How could he, when he knows you are leaving in just a few days?

What will happen then, once you've sailed away once more? Will he ever see you again? He isn't sure; if he's honest with himself, he doesn't think so. He knows the odds are not in favour of the two of you seeing each other again, let alone being together. Why is his heart aching for you anyway then? He's a logical man, he knows the situation, he knows he can't be with you. Then why can't he seem to simply ignore you? Why did he fall for you anyway?

That is without speaking of the difference between your rank and his. You're merely a maid for a princess, and he is king. Yet, he has never felt more himself than when he's by your side, talking about everything and nothing and dreaming about taking your hand in his, holding to never let go.

His eyes linger on the form of your princess, her elegant silhouette like floating across the ballroom. He knows you're not here, maids are not invited to such balls, after all. He catches himself imagining you in her dress though, dancing through the room. You would outshine the whole world…

He bites his lip in hesitation, his eyes falling on his glass. He has welcomed and shaken hands with everyone he had to, he has danced with the important ladies. Is he free to leave now?

"She's in the gardens."

He jumps as the princess chuckles by his side, he hasn't seen her reach him.

"Y/N," she went on. "She's in the gardens, in case you're interested in knowing."

"I hardly see how you could think this information relevant in any way," Caspian warily answers.

She gives him a look that says that she can read right through his heart, and yet he doesn't back down.

"Your maids will be happy to come home I'm sure, just like you. You must miss your family very much."

She doesn't bite the bait though, instead, she sighs and shakes her head.

"I think I will take another dance with your lovely generals."

Before he can add anything, she has disappeared through the crowd again, and he is left alone with his glass of wine in his hand and regrets heavy on his heart.

He has had many opportunities before to tell you how he felt, and yet has never gathered the courage.

He drinks another glass of the red alcohol, and it seems that the room is buzzing louder, spinning faster. Maybe it is just the effect of alcohol, but some little voice in his head tells him there is more to it. Your face seems to appear in the dancing fire of the candles, until he feels himself lose his balance as the guests spin too fast for his mind to handle. He rests his hand against a table for balance, but the world keeps on turning all around him.

He makes his way through the crowd as calmly as he can, but needs to breathe some fresh air. His thoughts are a mess, bumping into one another and turning into a confusing mix in the process. He stumbles more than walks through the corridor leading to the gardens, and it's only when the freezing wind and cold snowflakes hit his cheeks that his mind clears up a little. His thoughts are not consistent yet, but he can think straight enough to know where he is. His glass is still in his hand, empty except for a few drops that remain at the bottom. He stares at them for a while, motionless in the wind.

He doesn't hear you coming near him. He's too much lost in thought. Thoughts of you, of your travel that will come only to soon, of his realm, of this meeting he has to prepare, of his want for more wine, of his wonder over the fact that he doesn't understand pine trees leaves don't fall in winter…

Only when you clear your throat next to him does he turn to you. He blushes fiercely, as if caught in the middle of an embarrassing moment, although, you have no idea of his thoughts.

"Is everything alright, your Majesty?"

"Yes, yes… quite alright," he nods, his cheeks and ears crimson, but you blame the cold.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Hmm…"

He struggles to swallow back the lump that is climbing up his throat.

"No… nothing. I'm fine."

"Right…"

"Aren't you cold? It's freezing out here. Why aren't you inside?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I wasn't feeling very well. I needed some fresh air."

"And I needed a little bit of time on my own as well."

"I didn't… didn't mean to disturb you," he stumbles a little over his words, and it's not just because of all the alcohol in his veins.

You look beautiful in the moon and starlight. But then, he always finds you beautiful…

"You're not," you reassure him. "How was the celebration?"

"Huh… fine. Nice. Great…"

You chuckle at him, and he blushes some more.

"You look like you had a little too much to drink."

"Maybe a little. I'm fine though."

There are snowflakes caught in your hair and covering the cloak wrapped around your shoulders. The warm light coming out through the window nearby makes the frozen water dimly shine through the night, and he finds the glimmer much more beautiful on you than all the pearls and gems and gold and silver held in his ballroom.

"Would you mind a walk then?" he offers.

Yes, you are merely a maid, but it's not the first time Caspian and you spend some time together, alone. You've taken walks together before. You've spent afternoons reading in the library side by side. You've talked about everything and nothing for hours. He knows everything about your family and you know about his past, his struggles. It seems that there is an intimacy now, that has grown over the past few months, that crosses the boundaries of ranks and birthrights. You feel comfortable and safe around him, and he feels the same around you.

You welcome his invitation with a bright smile, and he abandons his glass on the edge of the closest window to offer you his arm instead. And you accept it with a grin.

It's cold outside. The wind bites at your cheeks and the snowflakes wet your hair. But you don't mind. There is warmth coming out from Caspian's frame that warms up your side, and the comforting feeling is enough to make you appreciate the walk. Snow cracks under your boots, and the more you walk through the path, towards the bare trees and the hidden grass, the more the sound of the party raging within the castle fades away. And the further you walk, the more you feel like Caspian and you are alone in this world. Titles fade away, worries dissolve, thoughts settle on the snow falling and the rhythm of the other's breath. It's peaceful all of a sudden, a bubble protecting you from reality and all the trouble it brings.

But a dream is never meant to last.

"Are you ready for your travel?"

Caspian's question cuts through the comfortable silence that protected you, like a sword shattering a shield. You take a sharp, trembling intake of breath, your heart tightening in your chest.

"Almost. There is still plenty to do. But we'll be ready in time."

"Good."

"The princess can't wait to find her home again."

"I'm sure you are excited to go home as well."

He feels your hold on his arm tightening, the gesture making him look at you. You seem to hesitate, and if he didn't know better, he would say that he reads on your features pain and sadness where he would have expected to find excitement.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?" you change the subject, making his heart leap in his chest. "It's a good way to end the year."

He can feel the alcohol burning through his veins, the way it makes his brain dizzy, the way it makes him say things he shouldn't speak out loud.

He hasn't noticed it, but you've stopped walking. The ball is since long forgotten, a mere glitter of candlelight escaping from distant windows. The wind is loud and cold, but it plays with your hair in an almost surreal fashion, and Caspian can't help but being thankful for the sight. The snow is still falling, relentless. You've stopped under a tall oak, of which only the branches remain under the winter cold. Your footsteps are still visible through the path, two pair of footprints tracking your every move. Caspian wonders if you could disappear for good if only he erased your two traces.

"I wish we had more time," he lets out in a whisper, that he thinks too low to be heard, yet you still catch the words loud and clear.

"I'm sure the princess will miss you as well," you answer carefully.

But he turns his attention away from your footprints to settle on your gaze, frowning.

"I didn't mean the princess. I meant you."

You gasp, and the only sound you can make after that is a soft, fragile oh.

"I… I enjoyed our conversations… very much," Caspian stutters, and stumbles, and finds himself falling without any way to stop the words from forming on his tongue. "I… was happy when we spent time together."

You give him a tender smile, forgetting for a moment that he is king. Instead, you let yourself get lost in his dark eyes, so dark under the moonlight that you can't see where the iris stops and the pupil starts. They're two round inky oceans in which you're happy to let yourself drown.

"I was happy to be with you as well," you confess.

"I… I'll miss you, Y/N."

You had to blink the tears away to keep on seeing him.

"I'll miss you too…"

But the moment passes and you can't merely forget who he is, and who you are, and the chasm that separates your two lives.

"… your Majesty."

He closes his eyes, and you frown at the sight of a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Can you do one last thing for me?" he asks, his eyelids still down.

"Of course."

"Just once… please… call me by my name."

When his eyes settle on you again, you're shaking.

"I… shouldn't…" you mumble.

"Please."

He could order you to do as he pleases, but you know he won't. He has never given you a single order, and somehow, you know he would never do so. And you know why.

He wants to be Caspian with you. You're the one always reminding him that he has to be King first. But maybe, just for a moment…

"I will miss you as well, Caspian."

He closes his eyes again, harder this time, as more tears escape. He sniffs, moving to brush his fingers against yours. He's surprised when you don't back away, letting him brush his skin against yours. Your fingers are as cold as his, but none of you mind, the touch still makes both your heart leap in your chests.

"I wish you could stay," he admits, looking down at your touching hands.

He lets you intertwine your fingers together.

"I am a mere servant…"

Under any other circumstances, he would have nodded and taken a step back. He had heard that defeated tone of yours before, had always responded this way to it. But tonight there's alcohol in his veins, and a year is on the verge to end when another is to be reborn. And tonight, he doesn't want to back away. Tonight, he wants to be bolder. A new year means a new beginning, and he wishes it could mean this for the two of you.

"I've never cared about that."

"I know. But you can't erase the fact either."

"What if I could?"

"Caspian… This… this is just a dream."

"Why does it feel so real then?"

You can’t reply, your throat is too tight to let any sound out.

"Because this… us… it feels more real than anything else I've ever lived," he goes on.

You shake your head, but still can't speak. And Caspian is tired, and sad, and a little too drunk to stop himself from confessing the truth he has been hiding for a while now.

"I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay. And I want… I wish things were different. I've always longed for someone to see me as I am without a crown. You seem to be the only one who sees me this way."

You remain silent. His words echo through you in a way he can't begin to fathom. He is the first to see you as something else than a maid. He's the only one who's ever made you feel special, as more than what you were born into. He's the only one who made you feel like you were worth the whole world, the whole sky and all the stars in between, simply by the way he looks at you.

He unlocks your two arms to raise his hand and rest his fingertips against your cold cheek, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone. It makes you feel warm, dizzy, safe…

"By Aslan's name," he lets out in a heartbroken whisper, "how I wish you could feel this way too…"

It is your turn to let a tear escape. He opens his mouth to speak again, and his lower lip trembles. His dark eyes are clouded by tears, and there is so many emotions gathered in his heart, he wonders if it will burst and kill him on the spot. And when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and raw with all that he feels and has tried to stop feeling for so long now. It's like opening a floodgate, and letting the water rush out. There's nothing he can do to control how overwhelming his emotions are at this moment, and the words are spoken before he can think them properly.

"I wish you could love me too."

Your eyes grow round, and he instantly wishes he could take the words back. He knows he would have never spoken them out loud if only he had not been drinking so much. He means them though…

His hand drops away from your face and back to his side, but he doesn't let go of your fingers. It feels like they're the only thing left for him to hold onto, and if he lets go, he'll lose you forever.

"I'm sorry," he goes on, unable to listen to the wind anymore, when all he longs for is to hear your voice. "I can't help it. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to fall in love with you, it just… I couldn't fight it. Please, don't be angry. I'm sorry I love you."

But you shake your head, and despite the tears flowing down your face, you're finally able to talk.

"No one should be sorry for being in love, and especially not you," you whisper. "Especially when… I feel the same."

His jaw drops, he narrows his eyes in confusion, trying to understand the full meaning of what you've just said, while you guide his hand back to your cheek.

"I love you," you breath.

His aghast expression slowly turns into a bright grin.

"You do?"

But you nod in response, your smile matching his.

And he loves you so much, his heart is swelling with it all, so much, it leaks through his veins and muscles, and every fibre of his being is so full of love for you… Yet he's still standing, still breathing, and he finds out that he's happy this way, knowing you feel the same.

He guides your face closer to his in a tender gesture, barely an invitation to lean closer, but you're eager to comply. The space between the two of you shrink and shrink until there is almost nothing left, your breaths mingling together, and then your lips meet and it's like your souls are reaching, touching, intertwining and becoming one.

For how long do you keep on kissing? A second? A minute? An hour? It's hard to say. All you know is that the second your lips and Caspian's part, you want them to meet again.

He's soft and tender with you, as if he's holding a delicate flower in his arms he's scared to break under his touch, and your hold matches his. Because as you hold him, it feels like you're holding his heart in your arms instead of his strong frame, and you're scared to break it if you hold on too tightly.

You rest your head against his shoulder, when a clamour coming from the castle comes bringing the gentle silence that has settled around the two of you. You can't see anything from where you are, but you guess the cheers mean that midnight has come, and with it, a brand new year.

"Happy new year," you smile up at Caspian, and he answers with a matching grin.

"Happy new year, Y/N."

As your lips connect again, both you and Caspian know for sure that this year means a happy new beginning, indeed.

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

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi @jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​

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[lavendersoft]

Until I met you.

3/?

-Street Fighter! Jimin x Reader

Synopsis: While on a date for their 2nd anniversary, Jimin loses Yoongi while being attacked in an alleyway by a robber. Yoongi sacrificed himself for his lover and Jimin could never forgive himself for not being able to do the same. The survivor’s guilt ate away at him over the months and it definitely didn’t help that he saw Yoongi’s face everywhere. In mirrors, dreams, large crowds, on trains, and even when he closed his eyes. Although, Jimin found a way to cope. He began a rigorous training schedule. Boxing, self-defense classes, Tae Kwon Do, he even started street fighting and got caught up with bad people. Anything and everything. His hands would bleed, his muscles would ache, his bones would break. Jimin was offered multiple full scholarships to prestigious martial arts schools for his talent, all of which Jimin turned down. He didn’t want to make a career out of this, he just didn’t want to be haunted by his dead fiancé. The only time Yoongi wouldn’t haunt every moment of Jimin’s life was when he’s training as if Yoongi is saying “I won’t rest, nor will I let you rest until you’re stronger.” Jimin will never lose anyone that he loves again.

Everything felt like a downward spiral,

until he met you.

Warnings: (There’s a lot- and it’s kinda dark, be warned) PTSD, implied schizophrenia (sorta? take that with a grain of salt), PTSD induced delusions/hallucinations, depression, paranoia, night terrors, character death, major angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masochism(?), alcoholism, minor gore, mention of drug abuse, mention of blood, mention of sexual assault/ harassment, mention of asylums, profanity, Jimin goes through one hell of a mental breakdown.

Author’s notes: lil fluffy :)

Jimin doesn’t visit Yoongi’s grave.

He hasn’t in a while, at least. He has seen Yoongi far too often since his death, actually. And he decided long ago that visiting graves only bring him grief and sorrow, not solace like most people.

Something was different this morning; off. Yoongi wasn't lurking. He wasn't staring at Jimin in the shadows or murmuring in Jimin’s ear. He’s just... gone.

But that doesn't stop Jimin from drinking his guilt away like he usually does. If he's being honest with himself, Jimin probably wouldn't be able to cope without his daily dose of alcohol.

He could just picture Hoseok and Jin laughing at him if they were here. They were always the big drinkers of the group. Jimin hardly drank and when he did, he’d get drunk faster than the rest. The memory brings Jimin no joy, knowing what came of everyone. In fact, he’d rather not remember.

The useless alarm clock rings beside Jimin’s bed. The machine never gets the chance to actually wake him up since he’s awake before dawn every morning due to the nightmares.

Hm. Maybe I should call Dr. Bang?

As he reaches over to dial his therapist’s number, her name pops up instead.

Y/n: I had a lot of fun last night, minus the weird guy in the alley lol

Jimin wonders how she could dilute such a pig to just a “weird guy” but he decided not to bring it up.

Jimin: me too. 

Send.

What? That’s it? Come on.

Jimin: um so if you ever want to do-

Delete.

Jimin: cool. so do u wanna see a-

Delete.

Flirting is a lot harder than Jimin remembers. He sighs heavily and tosses his phone down, opting to shower away his self-frustration. Right when he starts rinsing and lathering, however, an idea lights up his mind.

Of course.

A few hours later he is standing outside of his old dance studio, the one he’d go frequently with Yoongi on their days off work.

He hasn’t been here in months. Nevertheless, this place hasn't changed a bit. This place was their own little private piece of paradise. It was a cozy, secluded building on the outskirts of the city, but it had the best view at any time of day. Jimin had the best memories here. Memories of his whole friend group coming and visiting him while he danced. Hoseok always had the best advice for him and they’d end up dancing together. 

Jimin stares at the oak door, then glances at the key in his hand. He contemplates if he is even ready to be back in there. But she’s going to be here soon. He’d asked her if she wanted to use his old studio to practice dancing and had given her the address. So, he bites his lip and turns the knob.

The angelic light that flows in from the window is the first thing he notices when he walks in. The room looks so much more spacious than he remembers, probably because he was never in here alone. The huge, wall-length mirror expands further than he remembered. You’d think that he’d still remember every detail of this room, being that he was here close to every day. But he doesn't. These last nine months have hurt more than his heart. I can’t remember worth a damn nowadays.

He closes his eyes and stands in the middle of the room, soaking in the sunlight, breathing in the familiar smell of the walls and floor. This building always had such a distinct smell. You’d probably call him crazy if he said he could just faintly hear the laughter that always filled this place. There was never a bad situation that happened here. It was untainted with the strife and stress of their daily lives. All of their struggles and grievances, they were dropped at the door.

They came here to forget. They came here because it was their haven. A pure haven. 

And now he’s sharing it with you.

Also, he thinks it could use a good dusting. So, he gets to work.

But he’s soon interrupted by one of those endlessly annoying, nagging thoughts that pop into his head as he sprays down the mirror with Windex.

I’m expecting too much. I don’t even know her. She doesn’t even know me. And I’m letting her into my most sacred place. It’s just too fast. It’s gonna scare her. 

He lifts his gaze and stares at himself in the foggy mirror for the first time in ages.

As if I could scare her any more than I have. I’ve practically beat the life out of a man on our first date. 

But she’s still coming. She’s still coming.

He tears his eyes away from the man lingering in front of him to get back to work.

After an hour of dusting, scrubbing, and polishing, the studio looked exactly how he left it the last time. Then, a knock at the door startles him. He’s not used to anyone knocking on the studio door, it was always open to his friends.

He jogs overhastily to let her in.

The moment the door reveals her, her eyes light up in awe.

“Wow! It’s huge!” She blushes when she realizes she hasn't even greeted him yet. 

“Uh, I mean good morning.” She scratches her head awkwardly. 

“Morning.” His reply seems bland compared to all the work he’d just put into cleaning the place up as to not embarrass himself... and possibly impress her. He’d never admit that, though.

“It’s so much bigger than the one I practice in! And it has natural light!” She saunters over the window, pulling open the curtain entirely. She freezes.

“Mine doesn't even have windows! And yours has-”

“Cool, huh?” He chuckles. She really is cute.

“A full view of the city? It’s more than cool, it’s like a dancers dream!”

It was. Once.

“So, do you like.. own it?” She asks the question as if it would offend him in some way.

“Sort of.”

It was Yoongi’s first gift to Jimin, before they’d even started dating. It was by far the greatest gift he’d ever received.

“I co-own it.”

“Ah.” She nods, dropping the subject entirely. “Oh, hey, a radio!”

She’s so enthusiastic about everything. Jimin smirks.

“Yeah. I’m not sure if it still work-” He cut off by a stream of soft music filling the room. He remembers this song well. It’s the last song he’d been listening to that night, before-

“Oh, I love this song.” She looks over her shoulder with a look that almost resembled mischief. “Wanna dance..?”

“Oh... uh.. I don’t know. I’m probably kind of rusty.”

“Please?” Oh, this could get dangerous. It’s really hard to say no to her.

“Okay, but don't laugh.”

“Promise.” She holds out her pinky finger, waiting for him to lock his with her own. He does so, gladly.

Take my hand.

She places her hand in his. He wraps his hand lightly around her waist.

Take my whole life, too.

They fumble a bit, awkwardly stepping on each other’s toes as if they weren't both trained professionals.

For I can't help falling in love with you.

She finds her balance, he finds his rhythm.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes-

They glide over the dance floor like water.

Some things are meant to be.

The chorus repeats once more. He looks into her eyes now, instead of at his feet. She has a smile on her face that says she hasn't a care in the world at the moment.

I can't help falling in love with you...

The music fades and Jimin curses the song for starting in the middle instead of the beginning. He wants longer with her.

The next song starts and it’s a more upbeat one. One he made a choreography to. He’s almost tempted to show her before-

She already dancing. The exact same dance he created. He stands in shock. Every move, every step, everything is smooth and right on beat.  But how did she know?

He struggles to find the words to ask. Instead, he slowly starts to dance along with her. The look of confusion that crosses her face when she glances in the mirror and spots him following along with her perfectly is priceless. She falters for just a brief seconds before turning around and facing him, still hitting each beat. 

He smirks at her when the song finishes, she at a loss for words.

“How did you..? Where did you learn that?”

“Learn? I didn't learn it. I created it.” A stark silence enters the room.

“I’m sorry, what?” She’s obviously having a hard time processing.

“I made it.”

“But.. my dance teacher said it was made by some prodigy, like, years ago.”

He holds up his index finger, gesturing to himself. “That’d be me.”

“Stop playing with me. There’s no way... I mean-”

And so the afternoon went on. They discussed their dreams, their hopes, where they came from, favorite places to visit. 

Somewhere in between talking about her family home, she offered to order take out. He obliged and paid before she could oppose it. He felt terrible that they didn't have a proper place to eat- not even chairs. He’d pulled out an old blanket from the storage closet and made a makeshift picnic. He’d hoped to God that she didn't notice the faint musty odor from being in storage for so long. If she did, she didn't say anything.

 When they continued to talk, they even found out that they attended the same dance school when they were both beginners, not at the same time though. He has started dance much sooner in life than she.

He was called a prodigy, or so everyone told him. He was meant to be something. Something bigger than what he turned into.

“Hey. Wanna see something cool?” He asks when he notices the light in the room beginning to turn a deep gold, indicating the sun was setting. The really talked all day, huh?

“Always.”

He takes her hand and leads her into the hallway, all the way to end. They reach a door and he reaches up the top of the door frame to search for the key. After successfully unlocking it, the door opened to reveal an old, and he will admit, slightly sketching looking staircase. To his surprise, she enters without fear. She barely even waits for him.

Once they reach the top he opens the door and then stands out of her way, not wanting to block to the view. And he also wanted to make sure he could see her reaction.

There’s a silence that falls between them as she takes in the view of the city. Jimin inwardly praises himself for knowing all the best times of day to come to the roof, 6:22 pm sharp is one of those times. The world around them glows with golden, orange, and red light. The sun looks as if it’s searing the city, completely ablaze.

“Wow.” She takes in the sight of the tall shadows belonging to the buildings and trees as they grow even longer. 

Wise men say only fools rush in.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Missed Moments with You

Rating: M

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 14353

Summary: Almost six months after Baz drunkenly stumbled back into Simon's life, they're still together and happy. Well, mostly. It'd be great if they had more time together, but work keeps getting in the way. Can their relationship survive their real lives?

Read on AO3

Sequel to “Back to Haunt Me”

AN: HAHAHAHAHA I DID IT BITCHES!!!! I FINALLY FINISHED A FIC AFTER MONTHS OF ILLNESS AND WRITER'S BLOCK!!!! Seriously, I could not do ANYTHING for so long. But I was finally able to do this! Big thanks to @carryonmylovelies for all her help and encouragement. She is the best.

Sadly, I couldn't get this to fit into any of my requests. I will try to get to those, I promise. My brain is just not functioning at full capacity and really hasn't for awhile. Hope you enjoy this one tho :)

Disclaimer: I am not a teacher or a psychiatrist. Most of my knowledge comes from being a student and a therapy/psychiatry patient, plus a little research online. This is not meant to be a super duper accurate representation of either. Dramatic License was taken.

———————————————

Simon

Even though it’s soft, I still hear the door close. It’s not like I have super ears. I’ve just been sleeping lightly, trying to stay up until Baz comes back. I hear him quietly take off his ugly shoes, walk towards the room, and open the door. I stay still as he flops down next to me and gets under the blanket. He lazily throws an arm over my side, long nose pressed against my neck. I love when he does this, wraps himself around me. Baz makes me feel so happy.

“Hey,” I say, barely a whisper. “How was the hospital?”

Baz’s groan reverberates down my skin. “Nearly punched a patient’s father in the face.”

“Sounds like the usual.”

“Mhm. Just another day and night at University College Hospital.” He tosses his leg over mine. Sometimes I swear he wants to bloody climb me. “You should be asleep, Snow, it’s late.”

“You’re up.”

“Because I’m a medical resident and my hours are completely insane. You’re allowed the luxury of a mostly normal sleep schedule, take advantage of it.”

I grab his hand over my stomach, weaving our fingers together. “I like waiting for you.”

“Mm.” He nuzzles closer and holds me tighter, then presses a soft kiss behind my ear. I’m in heaven. “Sap.”

“Always.” I kiss the back of his hand. “We should both sleep now, love.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Night, love.”

I close my eyes, finally sinking into sleep as my wonderful, exhausted boyfriend holds me tight.

———————————————

I’m woken up by my alarm blaring shitty hair metal at top volume. Baz lets out a loud groan into my shoulder.

“Why do you play that rubbish?” he growls. “Why not some nice classical?”

“Because this rubbish wakes me up.” I reluctantly extract myself from Baz’s lovely arms. I hear him roll onto his stomach and spread out in a starfish on my bed. He loves cuddling with me, but he also likes to stretch out his long limbs. I grab my glasses, returning my ability to see properly, then turn around to look at him, and my mouth drops open.

“Baz!” I shout. “You climbed into my bed in your fucking scrubs again!?”

Baz lifts his head slightly and pulls at his light blue scrubs, eyebrows pulled together. “Hm, looks like I did.”

“They’re filthy!”

“No.” He flops back down, face smushed into my pillow. “I washed them yesterday. There’s just a bit of dried blood on my trouser leg. No sick or spinal fluid this time.”

I shake my head, but it’s with a smile. “I can’t believe my neat freak former roommate has developed such low standards of cleanliness.”

Baz makes an annoyed grunting sound before sinking further into my bed. I chuckle and press a kiss to his hairline. He’s already asleep again.

I grab my bathrobe and go into the kitchen, a smile on my face. It’s been five months since Basilton Pitch drunkenly wandered his way back into my life. I never imagined we would see each other again, let alone start dating. But it’s been pretty great. Baz is so much more than I thought he was. I already knew he was brilliant, but he’s also hilarious and kind and utterly amazing. I’m happier with him, and I think Baz is happier with me too.

The only problem is exactly what Baz warned me about when we started dating; he’s insanely busy. The hospital has him on a weird, inconsistent schedule. He’ll sometimes work for over twelve hours then collapse for an entire day afterwards. If that wasn’t hard enough, when this started, I didn’t factor in my own job. Very dumb, considering what I do. When I’m not teaching, I’m usually grading or writing lesson plans, so it’s not like I have a lot of free time either. We once went two and a half weeks without seeing each other. It was awful, but both of us understood. Still missed him though. I miss him a lot. In nearly six months, we’ve been on three proper dates. It’s not that I like fancy dinners and shit, I just like being with Baz. I wish we could be together more.

I stop to give Cherry her morning pet and wet food. She purrs under my hand. Then I make myself instant coffee, the ambrosia of primary teachers, and toaster waffles. I leave some for Baz to heat up later. He has pretty refined tastes, but no one can resist toaster waffles. He’ll probably be up to eat them around noon, when we’ll Skype chat while I have lunch at school. It’s my favourite part of the day. I want it to happen more often.

The phone ringing breaks me out of my lovesick melancholy. Penny’s grinning face stares back at me. I quickly pick it up. “Hey, Pen.”

“Hey Si,” she says, voice crackling slightly. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going alright. Just making myself some shit coffee and toaster waffles.”

“I’m a bit horrified your breakfast habits haven’t changed since uni.”

I scoff very self righteously. “Neither have yours. Last time I visited, you were stuffing your face with pop tarts.”

“You have no proof of that.” I can feel Penny’s glare from across the bloody Atlantic.

“No,” I chuckle. “I guess I don’t. Oh, I did almost get video proof of Baz wolfing down two Big Macs. He finished just after I got my phone out, it was amazing.”

“Ha! Get a video of it when it happens next time, then show me that and I’ll owe you a pint.”

“I’ll try next time we go out.” I slump a little in my chair.  “If we go out...”

Penny sighs in a particular way. It’s the one she uses when she knows I’m down and wants to bring me back up. “Baz still working those long shifts, huh?”

“Yeah, so he’s tired a lot. And our schedules have trouble syncing up. It really sucks and it’s not like either of us have a choice in it, especially him. But still it...it’s like- I just-”

“Part of you doesn’t give a shit about work, you just want to be together more.”

I sink further on the chair, so much so I fear I’m going to melt into the vinyl. “Kinda, yeah. Does that...does that make me a bad boyfriend and person?”

“No, no, absolutely not, Simon. It makes you a normal person who desires their partner.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but Baz warned me about his job. He told me that he would have insane hours and it would make having a relationship really hard. I told him it was okay, that we would make it work, so I can’t get mad now, right?”

“You’re allowed to be upset that you don’t get to see your boyfriend as much as you wish you could.”

“I guess, yeah.” I shove half a toaster waffle in my mouth. It marginally helps. “I don’t know what to do, Pen. I can’t ask Baz to cut his hours, it’ll mess up his degree and piss off the doctors cause they’ll say he’s ‘not being dedicated’, which is a load of bollocks but it’ll happen. And it’s not like I can change when I work. There doesn’t seem to be a solution.”

Penny sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Si. There’s no easy way to deal with this. I think you just have to talk things out.” I groan heavily. “Yeah, I know, you hate talking. But can you think of anything else?”

“No,” I grumble. “Save for just shagging him senseless so we can both let off some nervous stress.”

“Sex doesn’t fix everything.”

“Well, no, but it would be nice to try it period.”

“You two still haven’t slept together?!” she says far too loudly. I hope Micah isn’t home. God, that would be embarrassing. “It’s been months!”

“I know,” I groan, “but we’ve both been busy and tired, especially Baz. Mostly we’ve just been snogging, which is awesome. Baz is a great kisser.”

“Too much information, Si.”

“Sorry, sorry. I like kissing, I’d just like to do...other stuff too.”

“Which is perfectly understandable, and the only way it’s going to ever happen is if you figure out where to go in your relationship. And that’s only going to happen by  talking about it and working something out that both of you can live with.”

I eat another toaster waffle. Again, helps a little, not enough. “That’s hard.”

“And necessary if you want to keep this relationship.” There’s a short pause and I try to speak before Penny interrupts me. “You definitely do want to keep it, right?”

My leg jerks so hard I nearly knock my coffee over. “Of course I do! Baz is kind and amazing and funny and brilliant and I fucking lo-”

We both go silent. I put a hand over my mouth. Holy shit, I can’t believe I almost said that. I haven’t even thought about it before, until now. (Typical, I don’t figure it out until I’m right in the middle of shit.) I mean, I’ve thought about it in a sort of abstract, future way. But not right now, not after only five months together when we spent seven years apart and an equal amount of time hating each other. Could I really be in love already?

“Shit, really?” Penny whispers. “You love him?”

I bite my nails, something I haven’t done since second year of uni. “Uh, I guess, maybe. I don’t know. It’s way too soon and I’m not exactly that experienced in love. I don’t think I can say for sure of anything...”

“Okay. What can you say for sure then?”

“Well,” I stop chewing on my nails, “I know I care about Baz. I enjoy being around him. And I really, really,  really  like him.”

“Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I can deal with that.”

“Good, stick with that, don’t jump too far. Figure out where you two stand before you start talking about love.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, similar to Baz. I’m picking a lot up from him, “I know, I know.” My eyes catch the clock. “Oh shit, I’ve got to go right now. If I’m late my kids are going to destroy the classroom.”

Penny snorts. “The trials of a parent of thirty two children.”

“Exactly. Talk to you later, Pen, love you.”

“Love you too, Si, bye!”

The phone clicks off, leaving me hopelessly alone with my thoughts. So, I want to be around Baz more. That’s reasonable, he’s my boyfriend. But neither of us can be around more because of our beloved jobs. I’m going to have to find some solution. But not right now because I’m going to be very, very late. I rush out the door with only the thoughts of the tube schedule on my mind.

———————————————

“Lishie, no,” I say, taking the marker from her hand, “that’s a shared class writing utensil, you can’t chew on it.”

Lishie pouts at me, blinking her big brown eyes. “But Mr. Snow,” she whines.

“None of that, please. If you must chew on something, please use your own pencil.” I lean down to look at her drawing of a castle. “This is your favourite place, huh?”

“Yeah.” She points at her lovely pink palace. “This is my Lishie only place. It keeps my brother out and shoots lasers at bad guys.”

I nod with a big smile. “Both are very important. Nice work.” I turn to Zahir. His drawing is of a beautiful shoreline with a fiery sunset. “And what place is this?”

“It’s the view from my grandparent’s house,” he chirps.

“It looks lovely, Zahir, good job.”

I stand up and check the other kids. They’re all doing wonderfully. I help where needed, handing them markers and giving colour suggestions. Luckily the kiddos are being good today. I don’t think I can handle their particular brand of tornado like insanity right now.

“Mr. Snow, look what I did!” I lean down to Harrison’s level. His picture is of himself with his two Mums holding hands under an abundance of trees.

“It’s amazing, Harry,” I say. “Where are you three in this picture?”

“We’re at the camping ground where my Mums met. They got married at the lake last year. We go there every summer break.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet.”

“Are you married, Mr. Snow?” Rosanne calls out. I hate mean nicknames. They’re a dumb bullying tactic. At the same time though, “Nosey Rosie” is occasionally apt. Not that I’d ever say that out loud, of course.

“No, I’m not married, Rose,” I say calmly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

The kids start muttering and giggling. I sigh, shaking my head. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend either. But my love life is none of your business, munchkins.”

“A boyfriend?” Liza shouts. “My mum said you probably have a boyfriend.”

I sigh and rub my temple. Well, while her mother is correct, the beautiful and single Ms.Thorn has also made many advances on me. I suppose me being gay rationalises my kind rejections of her. I believe she needs to get over herself.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” I hate lying to the kids, but I’m not going to talk about my relationship with them. “Again, my love life is personal.”

Thandi gasps, and leans over to Riya beside her. Her tone suggests a whisper, but her volume shows she absolutely means to be heard. “What if Mr. Snow has a  secret girlfriend or boyfriend?”

They all start chattering away with big grins on their faces. I sigh heavily. There is nothing ten year olds love more than gossiping, especially about their teachers. I’ve caught my munchkins talking about if the football coach and year 11 science teacher are together. (They aren’t. Both Coach Markova and Mr. Saadia have been married for over twenty years. Their husbands are wonderful friends.) I don’t want to become the next rumour on the playground.

“Okay, hush up all of you,” I say loudly. They all quiet down. “It’s not appropriate to discuss my personal life, so you’re going to stop right now, understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Snow,” they reply all at once in a shamed, slightly annoyed tone. It’s one I’m extremely familiar with.

“Good. Now go back to your drawings, or we’ll start the maths worksheets early.”

They all gasp, then go back to drawing. I hear whispers about normal things, like Power Rangers and Disney movies. I sigh and return to my desk, leaning back in the chair. Honestly, even if I did want to answer the kids, I wouldn’t be sure what to say. I do have a boyfriend officially, but I barely see him. Twice a week at best. It’s not his fault, he tries his best. I fuck up more than him honestly. I just wish we could be...more boyfriends? That doesn’t make sense.

My pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone. I’m not supposed to use it during class hours, but the kids are working right now, it’s fine. The text is from Baz. My pulse speeds up like it does every time. But when I open it, my heart drops instead.

Baz [13:40] Hey love. So sorry but I can’t come over tonight. Need to pick up an extra shift. I promise I’ll make it up to you ❤️

I sigh heavily, trying to suppress the disappointment and hurt. It’s not his fault, he’s doing his best. We’ll figure something out. Right?

Simon [13:41] it’s alright love we’ll find another time

Baz [13:41] ❤️

———————————————

“No, no, hold the rock like this.” Baz adjusts my grip. I love his fingers, long and elegant. If he wasn’t a doctor, I think he would make an incredible pianist.

“How does the way I hold the rock change anything?” I ask.

“It helps you get the right angle to skip it.”

I frown in confusion. “I thought the rock’s shape helped with that.”

“Both help. So,” he guides my arm back, “let’s try.”

Baz’s callused fingers caress my bare skin. I let out a shaky breath. God, I shouldn’t get this hot and bothered from Baz just touching me. I’m not some horndog, I can wait for sex. The pent up tension is just...getting to me a bit.

“Now flick it, Snow,” Baz says.

I fling the stone forward. It flies over the pond, sending ripples across the aquamarine water. The stone nearly reaches the other side before finally dropping. I’m grinning ear to ear. When I turn around, Baz is too.

“Wonderful job, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I knew you could do it.”

God, I’m going to melt into a puddle. I peck his lips softly. “Thanks for showing me, love.”

He kisses me back, a bit firmer. I would snog the life out of him right now if we weren’t in the middle of Regent’s Park, apparently a popular relaxation spot for UCLH. We’re surrounded by nurses chatting, residents resting, and doctors smoking cigarettes. (Baz says doctors truly have the least regard for their own health.) We sadly pull apart and take a seat on a bench. I put my head on his strong shoulder, and he throws his arm around me.

“How were psych rounds today?” I ask.

“Awful,” he groans. “Mr. Teversham still refuses to take his medication, and Mx. Joseph is fighting therapy at every turn.”

“Hm, well, you expected this. Any ideas?”

“Mx. Joseph needs to be in therapy without  knowing they're in therapy. Mr. Teversham needs to be sedated so he can’t yell at me anymore.”

I snort. “Not sure that’s legal.”

“It’s not, but one can dream. Both probably need adjustments in their medications but that would affect serotonin levels too much at this delicate stage of treatment.”

“Mm, that sucks. Anything you could do for now?”

“More group therapy and coping techniques, I suppose. Little else we can do.”

I nod thoughtfully. Honestly, I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I try to be interested. It’s important to him so I do my best. 

He slowly strokes my hair. I lean closer to him. “How’s your work going, love?”

“It’s alright. Kids aren’t being too destructive. Oh, I’ve been working on something else though.”

Baz smiles, pulling me closer. “What’s that?”

“A new scone recipe.”

He lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back so far some of his gelled hair gets dislodged. I like the way a few raven strands fall in his face. “You seriously haven’t run out of new ones to try?”

I shrug. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”

“And then you’ll start making your own.”

“Probably.” I throw both arms around his torso, squeezing him tight. “I’ll give them to you to try.”

He chuckles softly. “Well, maybe. I have to stay in good shape to keep up with the other residents, and I can’t mess up what little sleep I have.”

I deflate slightly. Right, he’s gotta watch his health more than me. I should remember that. Bloody hell, I’m a terrible boyfriend. “R-Right. Well, I’ll make something else for you I guess...”

He makes a humming noise, but I can’t tell what it means. I’m horrible at non-verbal cues and unfortunately Baz is still no exception. I want to ask him about being around, about us being together, but the words get all tangled in my throat. I don’t know how to ask him without sounding like a selfish arse. 

(Maybe I am a selfish arse. Maybe I don’t deserve this, deserve him.)

(No no, Simon, stop it, stop with the self deprecation.)

(Even though he is better than me...)

I’m about to open my mouth when two clashing beeps ring out. Baz and I scramble to our phones.

“Fuck,” I groan. “Emergency staff meeting in twenty minutes. I’m gonna need to get a cab.”

“Me too,” Baz sighs. “Dr. Dehnavi wants to talk to me about a new inpatient. I suppose I should be flattered, but I’m more annoyed.”

“We’re both suffering it seems.”

“Apparently.” Baz leans over and pecks my lips. I lean forward, just slightly, asking for more that I can’t have right now. “I’ll text you later, love.”

“Yeah, me too.” We dash off in different directions. The questions I have still hang in my throat, but I put them down for now. Next time. Maybe...

———————————————

Thursday April 21

Baz [06:06] Hi, love. I’m finally done my night shift. We still on for the cafe this afternoon?

Simon [07:01] hey sorry I didn’t get this until now. unfortunately i’ve got some last minute extra tutoring to do with Sasha sorry 

Baz [07:02] It’s alright. You free Friday night?

Simon [07:02] nah got grading ☹️ gotta go to class ttyl!

Baz [07:02] Alright, talk to you later.

———————————————

Sunday April 30

Simon [17:37] hey baz can I come over tonight?

Baz [17:58] Unfortunately not. I’m on call for OBGYN all night. Lots of sitting with tiny sick babies in the NICU...

Simon [18:05] fuck that doesn’t sound fun at all ☹️

Baz [18:06] Absolutely is not. I’ll text you later okay?

Simon [18:06] Okay ❤️

———————————————

Wednesday May 8

Baz [22:24] I miss you

Simon [22:24] I miss you too

———————————————

My phone rings at lunch. Baz’s slightly smiling face looks right back at me. I took the photo one night when we were watching telly. He’s got his hair all piled up in a bun, wearing an LSE sweatshirt. He looks gorgeous, as always. I’m so entranced by the picture that I answer it just before the last ring.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Baz replies, sounding extremely tired. (He’s been sounding like that more and more lately.) “How’s your day been?”

“Not too bad. Joey fired a spitball at me, but I took the straw away pretty quickly.“

“Dear Lord, you teach monsters.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nope, just children, love. They’re naturally nightmares.”

“Don’t have to tell me, Snow, I have four younger siblings.” He sighs, and I can imagine him tilting his head back, hair falling down behind him. It’s a nice image. “Are you free next Friday?”

“Hm, let me check.” I look at my Google calendar, which is filled to the brim with multicoloured event tabs, everything from field trips to when lesson plans need to be done. (I consider the second one more a guideline than a rule.) Friday is surprisingly blank. A grin breaks out across my face. “Yeah, Friday is good. Got something in mind?”

“Well, I finally have a Friday off. So I was thinking we could dress up and go somewhere nice. Somewhere with fine food, candles, a generally romantic atmosphere. Does that sound good to you?”

I can’t help biting my bottom lip like some stupid teenager. I haven’t seen my boyfriend in person in nearly three weeks, sue me. Sure there’s been some texting and calls and Facetimes, but none of that compares to the real thing. I’ve missed how Baz’s long fingers feel between mine, or the way he cups my cheek perfectly when he kisses me. I just want to be with him. And finally we have a chance.

“That sounds very good. And uh...” I take a pause to muscle up courage to say what I really,  really  want to say. “Do you want to go to my place afterwards? And sleep over? But y’know...not sleep?” Baz snorts. My cheeks are probably bright red. I groan and rub my forehead. “Sorry, that sounded dumb. I’m an adult, I should be able to talk about sex openly.”

Baz sighs in his strangely affectionate way. “Well, we both know you’re not the best with words, Snow.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Okay, true. But the message still got across right? What I’m asking? But please don’t feel pressured, I just wanted to ask if we could try...”

“Yes, it definitely did. And I would love to try. I think six months is a long enough wait. And I’m really sorry about that.”

“Don’t blame yourself, love, we’ve both been pretty physically absent. Life has just been nuts for us.”

“Agreed. So it’ll be nice to...unwind a bit.”

My face is absolutely bright red now. A lot of inappropriate thoughts are racing through my head right now. I have to shove them down so my brain doesn’t start dribbling out my ears before I have to go back to teaching.

“I-I would like that a lot too.” And of course the first lunch bell decides to ring just then. I groan loudly. “Fuck, lunch is over. Kids will be back soon. Text you later to set up details?”

“Sounds good. Bye, darling.

“Bye, darling.”

I listen until Baz hangs up, then press my phone to my chest with a sigh. I feel so unbelievably giddy. It’s ridiculous, really, to be this excited about a dinner and (possible) sex. But for some reason, my chest is so full it's about to explode. I want to run around the room, shouting to the heavens that I’m going on a lovely, romantic date with Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

Fuck, maybe I really am love. That’s a terrifying, wonderful thought.

———————————————

“Does my hair look alright?” I tousle it to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. Penny sighs and shakes her head on my screen.

“It looks fine either way. But if you don’t decide soon, you’re going to be late!”

I groan and tighten my tie, trying to see myself in my tiny image in the corner. “I know, I know, I just want this to be perfect.”

“Nothing can be perfect, Si.”

“Yeah, but I can try.” I sigh, buttoning my grey suit jacket. This is the one nice suit I own, and I took great precautions to keep it from getting wrinkled on my way to work. “So much hasn’t gone right or easily in our relationship. I want one thing to not go down the drain.”

Penny nods thoughtfully. “Understandable. Just also be realistic.”

“Yes, I will.” I check my watch (a graduation gift from Penny that goes really well with my suit) and inhale sharply. “Shit, I really do have to go. Bye, Pen!”

She waves with a big, toothy smile. “Bye, Si, good luck!”

“Thank you!”

We press the red button at the same time. I tuck my phone into my jacket, then do a last cursory look at myself. No wrinkles? Check. Dashingly messy hair? Check. “Supplies” for later waiting in my bedside table at home? Absolutely check. Awesome. I’m so bloody excited I could seriously start flying right now.

“M-Mr. Snow?”

My head head whips around at the small, familiar voice. It’s Jeremy, with his wavy brown hair and little freckles. He’s sniffling, wiping his nose and blood shot eyes. I immediately rush forward and get on my knees in front of him.

“Jeremy? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He makes a big sniff, more tears falling down his cheeks. “M-My dad was supposed to pick me up outside, but he never came! And Ms. Reinhart tried to call my mum and she’s not answering and I don’t know what to do!”

He breaks out into another sob. He wraps his little arms around my neck, crying into my shoulder. I pat his back, trying to comfort as best I can. Poor kid. I’m unfortunately aware of what Jeremy’s parents are like. This isn’t out of character for them. His dad’s probably off with his college age mistress and his mum is partying late with her friends. From what I know, Jeremy was an accidental teen pregnancy, and now his parents hate each other and resent Jeremy for “ruining” their young lives. (Baz would say something about emotional stunting and projecting and shit.) This is the first time they’ve truly abandoned him though. Poor, poor kid.

“Is there anyone you trust who could come get you?” I ask quietly.

“My aunt,” he sniffles. “But she’s super far away.”

“Okay, where does she live?”

“L-Luton, I think.”

Fuck, he’s not exaggerating. Luton is an hour away on a good day, and it’s the middle of London rush hour. His parents may be able get here before her, but she’s probably much more stable than both of them put together.

“Alright. Do you know her number?”

Jeremy nods and moves off my shoulder. He pulls out a cheap flip phone. One of his parents probably gave it to him for emergencies. That’s one good decision on their part. He then hands it to me. The contact is listed as “Auntie Caroline.” I stand up and press dial, Jeremy still clinging to my leg. It only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Jeremy?” a seemingly female voice says, sounding utterly frantic. “Are you okay, love?”

“Hi,” I say, “I’m Simon Snow, Jeremy’s teacher. Don’t worry, he’s here with me, he’s safe.”

She lets out a very deep sigh. “Oh thank god. Is there something wrong?”

“Unfortunately, yes. His father was supposed to pick him up but hasn’t shown, and his mother isn’t answering her calls.”

“Those bastards,” she growls. “My brother and his good for nothing wife have already put him through hell, but this just takes the bloody cake!”

“Believe me, I agree with you. Considering our shared opinion, I was hoping you could come pick him up? I know it’s a lot to ask this late and you’re all the way in Luton but-”

“Don't have to ask me twice. I’ll be there as soon as I can. But it’s going to take me an hour, maybe two.”

I think about Baz, about everything we have planned, about every missed connection these past few weeks. But then I look down at Jeremy, who has the most tragic expression I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. I sigh heavily, then put the phone back to my ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay with him at school until you come. Let me give you the address.”

I rattle off the school’s address, my room number, and the best route to get here. She listens raptly, obviously scribbling it all down.

“Alright, got it. Thank you, Mr. Snow, this means so much to me.”

“No problem, see you soon.”

The line clicks off. I get back down in front of Jeremy. “Your aunt is going to be here soon, Jer. Until then, we’re gonna stay here and sit tight. Okay?”

Jeremy nods, wiping away more snot. “O-Okay.”

“Awesome. How about you go sit in the reading corner and I’ll join you in just a sec.”

“Okay.” He throws himself at me, hugging me tight. “Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

I smile and pat his head. “You’re very welcome, Jeremy. Now go read and get your mind off all this.”

He pulls away and runs over to the reading nook, throwing himself into the neon pink bean bag chair. He grabs a Harry Potter book. Good pick, it’s something he’s familiar with. Though I hate to think how much he relates to the way Harry grew up.

I go to my desk on the other side of the room and take my phone out. Baz’s beautiful contact picture stares back at me, and my heart twists painfully. I hate this situation. I hate that I’m doing this again after nearly three bloody weeks of no physical contact. I can only hope he can understand. And forgive me. The other end rings three times. 

“Hey.” Baz’s honey sweet voice is both comforting and painful right now.

“Hey,” I sigh.

“Oh no, that’s not a good ‘hey,’ is it?”

“No, unfortunately, it’s not.” I run a hand through my hair. “Remember Jeremy? One of my kids?”

“Yes, the one with the arsehole parents.”

“Yeah, that’s him. And tonight his parents have really taken the cake. Dad was supposed to be here but is probably off shagging his barely legal mistress, and mum is probably out clubbing and not picking up either.”

“Bloody hell, what a nightmare.”

“Exactly.” I slump into my chair, tugging my tie loose. “His aunt’s coming to pick him up, but...she lives in Luton...”

It’s Baz’s turn to sigh deeply. “And you’re going to have to stay with him until she gets there.”

God, I'm such an arsehole, and a predictable one at that. “I’m so, so sorry, Baz. I really wanted to go out tonight, and I know you don’t get many days off. This is such an out of the blue thing and I can’t just leave him. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s alright, Snow, I understand. I’ll hold you to that promise, okay?”

“Please do. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“That’s good. Bye, love.” The tinge of sadness in Baz’s voice fucking kills me.

“Bye, darling.”

He hangs up, and I hang my head with a quiet groan. I’m such a dickhead. I could’ve left Jeremy with Ms. Reinhart and went on my date, but I know she has a sick mother at home that she takes care of. Then I would have ruined the date by feeling all guilty and shit. I hate that this is probably the best choice.

“Mr. Snow?” I turn to Jeremy. He’s looking at me with a furrowed brow and pout. “Are you okay?”

I shove all my guilt and worry deep down, and put a big smile on my face. “Yeah, I’m good, Jer. Now how about you read some Harry Potter to me? I’d love to hear it.”

A grin breaks out on his face. “Okay.”

I leave my jacket and tie on my desk and stride over to him. I sit in the beanbag next to him. (Of course I didn’t get these things just for the kids.) Jeremy opens the book to his page.

“Chapter 12,” he starts with gusto

And I sit there listening to him for God knows how long. I laugh, make comments, correct his pronunciation when needed. I'm still a teacher after all. Then when the chapter is done, we watch silly animal videos on my laptop. I make sure Jeremy is happy. He deserves that after all of this. He needs to feel safe. I just wish it wasn’t at the sacrifice of Baz getting stood up,  again. God, am I ever going to get to see my boyfriend again? Is the universe ever going to let us have a moment together? I can’t really blame the universe though, I guess. This was my choice. I’m awful. Baz doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him, honestly.

Soon enough, a middle aged woman with long pink and purple hair sticks her head through the door at the other side of the room. “Hello?”

Jeremy grins and drops the book immediately. “Auntie Caroline!”

Caroline grins and catches Jeremy right in her arms, holding him up high. I walk to them but keep a good distance. “Hey munchkin, good to see you. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Snow stayed with me. We watched kittens!”

“That sounds awesome.” Caroline turns to me. “Thank you so much, Mr. Snow. Is there any way I can repay you?”

I wave my hand. “Don’t worry, no payment is needed. Just glad Jeremy has somewhere to go.

Her face falls slightly. She puts Jeremy down, touching his head. “Can you go get all your stuff, dear?”

“Okay!” Jeremy races off to the cubby area at ten year old speed. It’s a unique phenomenon. Caroline looks at me with a very serious expression.

“Here’s the thing,” she says in a hushed tone, “I’ve been trying to build a custody case for months, but I haven’t been able to get concrete proof of abuse and neglect. This changes things. If my lawyer needs you to, could you please testify at the custody hearing? I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ve already done so much, so if you can’t, I understand-”

“Say no more.” I take a sticky note from my desk and write out my mobile number. “Here. Tell your lawyer they’re free to call me. I’ll do anything to help Jeremy get somewhere safe.”

She sighs and takes the note. “Thank you, Mr. Snow.”

“Please, call me Simon. Only my students have to use my last name so I can pretend I have their respect.”

She chuckles. “Okay, Simon. It’s no wonder Jeremy says you’re his favourite teacher.”

Well, I don’t need an ego stroke (at least that’s what I tell myself), but...it’s nice. I nod with a humble smile. “Good to know.”

Jeremy runs up, wearing his bright red power rangers backpack. “Ready.”

“Awesome. Say goodbye to Mr. Snow.”

Jeremy gives me a big, full arm wave. “Bye bye, Mr. Snow.”

I tousle his hair, making him giggle. “Bye, Jeremy. See you Monday.”

“See you!” He grabs Caroline’s hand and literally skips away with her. Honestly, I’ve never seen him this happy outside of class. He usually hangs his head and slumps off after hanging around in the cubby area for as long as possible. I know the patter well. It's what I used to do before I went to Watford, when I was stuck in shitty group homes. I hope Caroline gets custody. Jeremy deserves to be happy.

Slowly but surely, I collect all my stuff, from my snot covered jacket to my book bag. I look at my phone, and see a few texts from Baz.

Baz [16:56] Hey, just wanted to reassure you that I’m not upset, I understand. I’ll get another day off eventually.

Baz [18:30] I’ve got some takeout, it’s lovely. I’ll save some for you the next time you come over ❤️

Baz [19:18] I’m going to bed soon. Hope Jeremy gets to his aunt’s safe. Good night, love.

I sigh, my heart feeling like a lead balloon. I absolutely need to make this up to him. I’ll figure something out when my brain isn’t so exhausted. For now, I can at least text him back.

Simon [19:23] Sleep well, love. I’ll talk to you in the morning ❤️

Baz doesn’t reply. He’s probably asleep. Probably...

I walk home with my shoulders slumped and feeling like an utter, utter twat.

———————————————

“I’m a dick,” I groan.

“You’re not a dick,” Penny says. “You did the right thing and kept a student safe. That makes you an incredible teacher.”

“And a crap boyfriend.” I throw my cookie dough on the counter a little too hard. It makes an awful splat noise.

“Well, maybe, but Baz has bailed because of his work as well. And he said he understood.”

I grumble as I roll out little balls between my hands. Baking always helps me calm down. Well, usually. Right now I’m close to crushing each one. “Yeah, I guess, but I still feel super bad.”

“Well, take him out on his next day off.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle darkly, “that’ll probably be in about two or three months.”

Penny sighs, sounding just as defeated as I feel. “That fucking sucks. I can’t believe his schedule is really that insane.”

“He works himself to the bone, because he’s a great doctor and he’s going to be a great psychiatrist. It just means we don’t get a lot of time together, but it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. Both of you need to carve out more time for each other. You’re not the only one who is having issues, Si.”

“Yeah, but like, he can’t help but work more. Being a doctor is more demanding than being a teacher. He doesn’t have control of his hours.”

“Neither do you!” She’s practically yelling. “Being a good teacher means going above and beyond for your students. Therefore, you  have to put in extra hours if you want your students to have a great education.”

I make a semi agreement noise. My non-verbal way of saying she may have a point but I don’t like it. “Okay, maybe. But Baz doesn’t deserve to be neglected because of it.”

“Of course he doesn’t, Si, which is why you have to make time for him. And he has to do the same for you if you want this relationship to work.”

“I know you’re right, Pen, I just don’t know how.”

There’s a small pause, and I can imagine Pen stroking her chin like the old scholar she is in spirit. It’s comforting to think of. Penny thinking was a staple of the best parts of my childhood.

“What time is it where you are?” she asks.

I look down at my watch. “Uh, about 11?”

“Good. Finish what you’re baking, bring it to the hospital, surprise Baz with home baked treats. Then see if you can get Baz to go to lunch with you. If not, at least give him something to eat during his insane shift. Try to talk to him or ask him to talk about all this later. Sound doable?”

I’m grinning so wide it threatens to dislodge my earbuds. “Yeah, definitely sounds doable. Thanks, Pen.”

“No problem. Si. Now can I run this new lesson plan by you?”

“Absolutely, go ahead.”

Penny starts rattling off her curriculum points while I throw the cookies in the oven. And for the first time today, I feel good. I feel hopeful. It’s nice. I’ve missed it.

———————————————

UCLH is a towering, intimidating giant of white metal and panes of glass. It’s hard to not feel freaked out looking at it. Anytime I went to the hospital as a kid it was because of a fight at the group home or injuries from particularly awful foster parents. There was never a good reason to be here. Until now, that is.

From what I remember, Baz said he would be on psychiatry today. Problem is, I have no idea where the fuck that is. I can barely navigate my tiny school. This is an entirely different, far more sterile beast. I walk to the front desk where a man with big round glasses and very cool arm tattoos is sitting.

“Hi,” I say cheerily as possible.

“Hello,” he replies with a perfect, pearly white smile and a thick American accent. “How can I help you today?”

“Uh, I’m looking for the psychiatry wing? Specifically for Dr. Grimm-Pitch.”

“Okay. Are you a patient...?

“No, no, I’m his boyfriend. Got some stuff to drop off for him if he’s not too busy.” I hold up the Christmas tupperware filled with raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies. They’re Baz’s favourite.

The man’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you’re Basil’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah, last time I checked,” I chuckle.

“Wow. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Shepard, from Omaha, Nebraska.” 

He holds out his hand, and I of course shake it. “Nice to meet you, Shepard from Omaha, Nebraska. I’m Simon, from uh, Lancashire, I guess.”

“Good too meet you too, man.” He leans his cheek on his hand. “Y’know, Basil has mentioned you exist a couple times, but won’t say anything else no matter how much I beg him.”

I shrug with a smile. “He’s a private person.”

“Yeah, but if I were dating you, I’d be bragging about it.”

Well, now my face must look utterly ridiculous. I’m twenty five years old and blushing from one compliment. “T-Thanks, wow. You’re pretty forward.”

He throws his head back laughing. “Nah, just blunt, man. And way too nosy, at least according to your boyfriend. Says I have some sort of anxiety fueled need to overshare and figure out everything about people."

"That...sounds odd."

Shepard shrugs. "Pretty sure it's made up. Besides, I already have two therapists. Don't need a third one." He laughs, and I laugh along with him. Thought part of me is truly concerned about him. Hope he's okay, he seems nice. "Anyway, I hope Basil is less intense outside of work than here.”

“Most of the time, yeah. He’s got his softer side, just has trouble showing it.”

“Believe it when I see it. Also,” he hands me a pamphlet, “psychiatry is on the fifth floor. Take the south elevator up and turn to the right. Basil should be at the front desk. Said he had patient files to sort all day.”

“Awesome, thanks.” I take out a cookie and hold it out to him. “Here, you can have this, unless you’re allergic to berries, gluten, or dairy.”

“Nope. I will happily take that.” He plucks it from my hand. “Thanks, man. Tell Basil I say hi, and I still have his pen.”

“Will do, thanks!”

He waves me off with half the cookie already in his mouth. Interesting guy. I may have to come back to talk to him more.

I follow Shepard’s instructions as best I can. Though I get lost trying to find the elevators,  twice. The halls twist and turn and loop back in on themselves. Seriously, who designed this hospital, Willy Wonka? Eventually I finally make it to the elevators and suffer in the sanitizer smelling tube for five floors. The psychiatry floor itself isn’t too bad, just kind of bland. Lots of blank grey walls and inoffensive paintings of scenic nature. And it’s pretty straight forward compared to the first floor. I just have to walk down the hall, turn at the “front desk” sign, and there will be-

I freeze in place. There’s Baz, with some redheaded guy leaning on his desk.

“Come on, Basil, you can’t be serious,” he says in a smooth, beautiful voice. “I’d totally shag Dr. Mayer over Dr. Dehnavi. Mayer has such polished charm.”

“Hm, I prefer a more ruggish look,” Baz replies with a half smile. “And Dehnavi gets that wonderful five o’clock shadow after a day of rounds.”

“True, very true. Not so hot when he’s yelling about oral board prep.”

Baz lets out a laugh, shaking his head. Wisps of black hair fall in his face. He looks at the redhead with a sly smile. “Well, I haven’t gotten to that point yet. But I do get an earful about SSRI dosage levels.”

“Oh lord, you’re giving me baby doctor flashbacks, stop. I’m scared Dr. D is going to be on the other side to yell our asses into submission.” 

They laugh together, and redhead moves closer to Baz, their hands nearly touching. My heart drops to the ground and burrows into the centre of the fucking Earth.

Baz looks at ease, content, and most of all, this guy seems to understand what the hell he’s talking about. Definitely more than I ever have. And he’s super bloody attractive. And he’s there, like I haven’t been. Fuck. Deep down, I thought this was going to happen, but it’s still ripping me apart. Baz has found someone better. I’m just the stupid poor orphaned kid he had a crush on in school. Now he’s gotten those old feelings out of his system and he’s found someone, another doctor no less, who can easily be a better boyfriend. Bloody hell, I’m about to cry. I need to go, right now.

I quietly and quickly get away. Going back through the hospital is a blur. And not just because my eyes are filled with tears and fogging up my glasses. My brain is a jumbled, heartbroken mess that can’t focus on anything. I think Shepard waves at me as I walk past but I can’t bring myself to respond right now. I don’t stop moving until I throw myself into my car, tossing the cookies on the front seat.

Finally, I have to stop. And worse I have to think. So, Baz has found a new guy. Some pretty red haired doctor who makes him laugh with doctor humour and probably doesn’t bail. He’s probably going to break up with me today. I should just break up with him, save him the hassle...

I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white. My cheeks are raw from wiping tears away. I think about losing Baz, losing a chance to make things better, and it's the worst pain I've ever felt. A small part of me thought that maybe Baz was it. That he was the person I could actually, possibly spend the rest of my life with. Maybe it was a stupid thought. I was so stupid.

My head falls forward, forehead pressed against the wheel. And I just cry.

———————————————

I’ve called in sick for a week. I’ve never called in for that long, not once in my teaching career. But I can’t get off my couch, let alone leave my flat. I’ve been laying here for days, surrounded by takeaway wrappers, watching old Dr. Who episodes, cuddling Cherry nonstop. Penny is probably worried about me but I haven’t really been using my phone. I’ve tried to call Baz a few times, but always hang up before it starts dialing. I know I should just rip off the band-aid already. But I’m a coward, I guess. I’ll just lay here, waiting for Baz to call me and finally dump me. Every time I think about it, I still cry a little.

The phone rings and my heart gets so tight I can hardly breathe. Fuck, this is it. I slowly lift it up. But it’s not Baz’s photo I see, or Penny’s. Rather, it’s Agatha’s, grinning with her soft California tan. I press talk right away.

“Hello?” I say

“Oh thank god,” Agatha sighs, “you’re alive. We were all sure you’d been in a horrible accident or something!”

“Um, no, I’m fine, just a little under the weather.”

“Then why haven’t you been answering your fucking texts, you arse?!”

I move the phone away from my ear slightly to avoid hearing loss. “I told you, I’ve been sick. Haven’t felt like responding...”

“Okay, that excuse could work on Baz or even Penny, but I’m not buying it. Cut the crap, Simon, what’s wrong?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face. Well, she’s here, and I’m too tired to make up another lie. “Baz is breaking up with me.”

“What?!” I move the phone again. Agatha is going to make me go partially deaf in one phone call. “That dickhead! I- Wait, what do you mean is?”

“Well, uh...he hasn’t dumped me yet...”

Agatha takes a pause. I can imagine her expression right now. Probably a lot of confusion mixed with disbelief. “Okay, please explain this to me, because I’m so lost.”

I sit up, scratching the back of my neck. “Well, um, Baz and I have been having issues meeting up for the past month. Things kept happening. Baz had this wonderful date planned after three weeks of not seeing each other. But then a kid from my class needed someone to stay with him because his stupid parents wouldn’t show up and we had to wait for someone else. So I cancelled and Baz said he understood but I still felt awful. Then the next day I was going to bring him cookies to say sorry, but when I got there, I saw him chatting with this redhead doctor. And I realised Baz had found someone better. Hoped it wouldn't happen but yeah, he’s going to break up with me. Just waiting for him to call or come over. I’d do it myself but I’m too much of a wimp.”

There’s a long drawn out silence. The only sounds are the California waves on Aggie’s end and Cherry meowing for attention on mine. More than ever, I wish I was a mind reader. I want to know what’s going through her head. It’s probably less muddled than mine.

“Simon,” she says slowly, “I need you to know that I’m only saying this because I love you very, very much. This all comes from a place of caring.”

“Uh...okay?” Now I really need to know what’s in her head. But I think I’m about to find out.

Agatha takes a few deep breaths, and then, well...explodes. “You absolute, goddamn fucking numpty! You’re seriously throwing away objectively the best relationship you’ve ever had because you saw him chit chatting with some redheaded twat!? For Christ’s sake, Simon, this is beyond idiotic and self destructive!”

“Hey I-”

“Shush, Simon!” I shut my mouth. “I get you have some serious self esteem issues, Si, but what happened to acknowledging and dealing with them? You are not a warm body for Baz until he finds someone ‘better.’ He’s been pining after you since bloody Watford and being with you is his dream come true. I know because he’s told me so!”

My cheeks flush a little. “R-Really?”

“Yes, really! He adores you, Si, he thinks you hung the bloody moon. In no world would he just up and dump you!”

“I-I mean, yeah, but like, I’ve been an awful boyfriend lately. I wouldn’t blame him if he did...”

“You really think Basilton Pitch, king of overthinking and future psychiatrist, would dump you without first trying to talk?”

“Um, well, I can see your point.”

“Good. I promise you, Simon, he doesn’t want to break up with you. But if you don’t talk to him soon, it may be too late. So get your arse in gear and get your guy. Or I’ll come from all the way across a continent and an ocean just to smack you upside the head.”

I chuckle softly. Huh, this is the first time that’s happened in awhile. Feels good to laugh. “Okay, will do. Thank you, Ags.”

“You’re very welcome, Si. Please send me an update later so I know you’re okay? And Penny too so she doesn’t blow a gasket.”

“I promise. Talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later, Simon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The second my phone is off, I jump up. I’m invigorated with new energy, both happy and terrified. I may have just ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m insecure as fuck. I’ve got to fix it. Before it’s too late.

I pick up all the takeaway containers at lightning speed. They don’t all fit into my trash though (God that’s sad), so I have to get a new trash bag. At least I don’t have a depression nest anymore. That’s a good start. Next step, I run to the shower. I smell fucking ripe. No way I can apologize while smelling like the bottom of a McDonald’s dumpster. Thank every god that I still have some hot water left. I scrub quickly and furiously until I stop feeling so gross.

I jump out and go to my room. Unfortunately, I haven’t done my laundry in a week either. The only things I have are a baggy pair of jeans and one of Baz’s shirts. It’s soft cream with flower buds on it. For all his dark brooding, Baz has a thing for florals. It smells like him, cedar and bergamot with a hint of hospital antiseptic. I put it on.

I’m halfway through the buttons when I hear my door open and close. What the fuck? Who’s here? Who has a key?

“Snow?” Baz’s voice calls out. “Simon, are you here?”

Oh. Oh shit. I dash out of my room, shirt still half open. I even slide on my laminate floor like a cartoon character. Baz is standing in my entryway. And he looks like a total mess. His hair is disheveled, there are huge dark circles under his eyes, and he’s got close to an actual honest to god beard. We just stare at each other way too long. Until I can find my words again.

“Baz,” I stutter. “Hi. W-What are you-”

“Oh thank god.” He runs forward and throws his arms around me in the tightest hug I’ve ever felt. “You’re alive. I thought you were dead or in a coma or-” He pulls back. His eyebrows are all scrunched up. “Is that my shirt?”

My face starts to heat up. “Um, uh, yeah. Didn’t have anything else. I was going to see you. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

He scoffs, but it’s with a smile. “No, not really, I’ve been worried sick all week. You weren’t answering my texts or Bunce’s. I was scared shitless. I came here because it was my last resort.” He pushes back my hair, rubbing his thumbs along my temple. It’s downright tender. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” His hands move to my shoulders. “Where did you go?”

“I, uh-” I hang my head. “I-I did something dumb. And I got super sad and I didn’t know what to do. So I was just here a lot...”

His eyes grow wide. “You were here at your apartment? All week?”

“Um, yeah...”

He steps back and blinks. His face is just blank, and honestly it’s more freaky than him panicking. “You’ve been home alone all week, and didn’t tell me?” I nod slowly. That blank face suddenly morphs into unbridled anger. “What the fuck, Snow?! You couldn’t take two seconds to text me back to let me know you’re bloody alive?!”

“I-I didn’t know you texted.”

“Check your phone!”

I scramble over to my couch and scoop up my phone. I haven’t looked at my notifications out of fear. Oh...oh fuck. 53 missed text messages, and 42 are from Baz. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks. I really am the worst.

“Oh god,” I say, voice very strained. “I’m so sorry, Baz, I was just so caught up in my shit, I wasn’t checking my phone-”

“Obviously.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Why did you come to my work?”

My eyes go very wide and my body becomes very stiff. “Wait, you saw me there?”

“No, but Shepard came to talk to me the next day. He asked if my boyfriend was alright because he ran out looking upset. I was surprised he knew who my boyfriend was, and even more so that you were there. So why were you at UCLH and talk to me?”

“Uh, I wanted to talk to you and say sorry for standing you up. B-But when I came, you were um, talking to this guy...” I curl in myself, rubbing my arm. “And I freaked out because I thought after I fucked up the date you’d found someone better and...were going to dump me.”

I look up, and Baz’s jaw is wide open. He drags his hands down his face. “Oh my god, Simon,” he groans, “after all the time we’ve spent together, I can’t believe you still think that low of me.”

“N-No! I don’t!”

“You thought I would dump you after six months together because of a cancelled date? Which you cancelled to help a neglected child?! I’m not a monster, Snow, I’d never do that.”

“Y-Yeah, I know, Baz. It’s just...” I rub the back of my neck. “When I saw you with him, it made all this shit come up and I totally panicked-”

“I understand that, Simon. But it was one conversation with another guy! Why did you ghost me instead of just talking?”

He sounds less angry, more desperate than anything. But it makes me feel even worse. “Because...because I got scared and anxious and I hated seeing it so much...yeah.”

Baz’s mouth is a thin line. “That’s not a real answer, Snow. Why on Earth did you think the worst of me instead of trying to talk?”

“It’s not about you!” I shout desperately. All the words are so muddled up, I can’t get them out. It’s not Baz’s fault, my brain is just being so unhelpful right now. I wasn’t ready for this talk, fuck.

“What does that mean? You stopped talking to me because you thought I was bloody cheating on you! How is this not about me in some capacity?!”

“I didn’t think you were cheating! I just- I thought- I just got so freaked out because I didn’t want to lose you-”

“You weren’t going to lose me!”

“But I thought I was and that scared me so much because I- well, I-”

“Because what, Snow?!”

“Because I love you, you massive arsehole!”

The room goes absolutely, perfectly silent. Baz’s lips have fallen wide open. I inhale sharply. Oh God, did I really just say that out loud? I clap a hand over my mouth and look down, trying to get my breathing under control. I can’t believe I just did that. I’m such an idiot. Baz is going to dump me for sure. Adores me or not, I’ve probably scared him off. My hand falls down.

“I’m so sorry, Baz,” I say softly. “I-I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out-”

“Did you mean it?” I lift my eyes up slightly. I expect Baz to look horrified, angry, maybe even disgusted. But instead he looks...kind of awestruck? His eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them before. I think about lying, but I don’t think he’s upset. And I have a feeling that if I lie he will be. I think I need to stop hiding my feelings from Baz.

“Yeah. I did.”

His lips fall open even more. And I swear, he’s smiling a little. My heart is beating faster. “Seriously? You...you love me?  In love with me?”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down my racing mind. I nod and take a small step forward. Not crowding Baz, but getting closer. “Yeah. I'm in love with you, Baz. I-I know it’s too soon, but I can’t help-”

Baz cuts me off with the most intense, head spinning, world shaking kiss of my life. He presses the small of my back with one hand and grabs my curls with the other. I literally stumble backwards from it. Baz takes the chance to press me against my hallway wall. Like he’s shielding from the world with his own body. He’s kissing me so hard, so passionately, and I can’t help but melt. 

Is this Baz’s way of saying he loves me too? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care. This is heavenly to the Nth degree. I’m good at turning off my brain when needed. So that’s exactly what I do.

I push back against Baz with equal force. He groans so deeply it makes me shudder. I grip his face tight, pushing my fingers through his tangled but still soft hair. He drags his tongue along my bottom teeth, slowly and carefully. I nearly melt into a puddle. We’ve never kissed like this before. Even our most intense snogging sections don’t come close. It’s like Baz is trying to touch and grab every part of me but can’t decide which. I don’t mind. He can have it. I’d give him all that I am and more. I’d tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.

Baz runs his hands down my thigh. I can feel the heat through my trackies. He hooks under one of my knees, pulling it up. I think I get the message. (I hope). I jump, fully prepared to fall flat on my arse, but Baz catches me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist while he holds me up above him. Christ, he’s strong. It’s so hot. And I love this angle, because I can snog the life out of him more easily. This is amazing. But I still want more.

I pull off his mouth (sadly), just enough so I can speak. “Bed?”

Baz just nods and kisses me again. He pulls us off the wall. He barely stumbles as he walks us through my flat. I scramble to unbutton his shirt. I know Baz is really into this because he’s making no fuss about me possibly ruining his clothes. Soon enough, we stumble into my bedroom. Baz quickly kicks the door shut, cutting off the rest of the world, and I don’t mind one bit.

———————————————

Baz and I roll apart solely because we need to breathe. Our chests are heaving. My blankets and sheets are completely tangled around us. I’m more sweaty than the one time I tried to go to a cross fit class. However, this was a way better workout. I’m glad I kept all those supplies in my nightstand.

So, now I know what sex with Baz is like. It’s sweaty, vigorous, a little awkward, and so,  so  incredible. Pretty sure my brains have been thoroughly fucked out. It takes me a few panting moments for me to muster up a singular word.

“Wow,” I say. My voice is really hoarse, but I absolutely don’t mind.

Baz lets out a small laugh. His voice sounds rough too. It’s really hot. “Still very eloquent.”

“Fuck off.” I lightly push his sweaty shoulder. But when I start to pull back, Baz grabs my wrist and tugs me towards him. Before I know it, Baz is kissing me again. It’s soft, slow but so unbelievably hot. I completely melt into his arms. He’s so warm and strong and I could spend an eternity wrapped up in him. No more work or life, just Baz and I in this bed forever. My god that would be a dream come true.

He pulls off to kiss across my cheeks, then down my neck. He already knows the exact spots that drive me insane. (Well, Baz has always been a quick study.) My eyes flutter closed. I’m falling into that haze again, where my head gets foggy and I can only think in “yes” and “please” and  “more.” Part of me wants to sink back into that bliss, but the aching of my out of shape muscles is unfortunately more insistent.

“Baz,” I whisper, “as much as I would like a fourth round, I’d also like to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Baz groans, but relents and rolls onto his back. We settle for just staring at each other. I don’t mind. Baz is always gorgeous but he is a different kind of beautiful right now. His face is all flushed, pupils blown wide, black hair plastered to his damp forehead. And I thought I couldn’t get more attracted to him.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, absolutely.” I cup his face, running a thumb on his cheekbone. “You?”

“I’m bloody fantastic.” He spreads his fingers out on my side, tracing the most delicate patterns that make me shudder. “Can’t believe I was so scared of this.”

My heart beats faster as my eyebrows scrunch up. “Scared? Of what?  Me? I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, Snow. I wasn’t scared of you, not at all.” He sighs and pulls me a little bit closer. “I just built up sex with you so much in my head that it became overwhelming. I was terrified of fucking it up after wanting it for so long.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it from the start too. Six months of sexual tension really mess with your head.”

He chuckles. I like the way his breath hits my skin. “Simon, love, I first fantasised about sleeping with you when we were 15.”

I was already flushed, but now I’m on fire. It’s a miracle I’m not a pile of ash right now. I flap my mouth open and closed like a fish for too long. Baz just smiles at me like I’m beautiful or something, not a total deer in the headlights.

“R-Really?” I finally get out. “That long?!”

“Mhm. I told you, Snow, I figured out I wanted you in fifth year. Puberty was a bloody nightmare with you right across the room.” We laugh quietly together. But I genuinely feel bad for Baz. I hold the back of his head, running my fingers through his soft hair.

“I’m sorry you went through that, love. Must’ve been awful.”

Baz sighs, putting his hand on mine. “Thank you. At least things worked out in the end." He pecks the tips of my fingers. "I’m glad we finally did this. Real life was far better than any fantasy.”

I kiss the corner of his smile. He giggles, so small and adorable, something I never would’ve thought Baz was capable of until six months ago. I’m so happy. And my heart sinks, thinking about how this was almost over because I was so insecure.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, and Baz’s face becomes much more serious. “I-I’m sorry that I vanished without telling you. That was immature and dumb. And I’m sorry for scaring you. I promise I won’t ever do that again.”

Baz nods slowly, mouth twisting from side to side. He brings our hands between us, holding me tight. “I accept your apology. Just, what happened, love? I’m still not sure what you meant.”

Well, I knew this was coming. Doesn’t make it any easier. I clutch him hard, like I’m scared he’ll go. But if the last hour or two means anything, I don’t think he will. Still, I hold him tight.

“That’s a long story,” I sigh.

Baz presses his lips to the back of my hand. It’s firm and comforting. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

I carefully roll onto my back. Baz goes onto his side, propping his head up with his free arm. We keep our hands together. I really can’t let go of him right now.

“I meant it when I said it wasn’t about you,” I say. “It’s really not. I don’t think you’re a terrible person who would dump or cheat on me. It’s more that...that I was scared and felt worthless. Part of me has always felt worthless, unlovable. Sometimes my brain is like ‘your own parents didn’t want you, why would anyone else?’”

“Simon-”

“You don’t need to tell me it’s not true, Baz, I know. Most of me does, anyway. But sometimes that mean voice gets louder, and it’s been louder lately. Not because of you, not really. It’s because I think you’re incredible and brilliant and that mean voice kept telling me ‘why the hell is he with you? He’s way too good for you. He’ll find someone better.’ And after weeks of missed dates and the whole dinner fiasco, it got worse. Then when I saw you with the other doctor I guess the anxiety just took over. And I just sort of shut down.”

Baz moves closer. “I’m sorry, that’s horrible.”

“Thanks.” I sigh and run a hand through my tangled hair, like I’m trying to pull the stress out of myself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this. I didn’t want to dump all my shit on you. It’s a lot to deal with and I should deal with it on my own, not pull you in.”

“Simon,” Baz says firmly, holding himself above me, “you can absolutely pull me into your shit. I want to know everything you’re worried and scared about, so I can be there to help if you want. You never have to hide anything because I love every single part of you, no matter how insecure or sad.”

I stare at him for too long. My heartbeat is roaring in my ears. Slowly, a smile stretches out across my face. “You love me?”

Baz’s face pulls together in confusion, and for a moment I’m scared he’s going to take it back, because I’m not worth it. But then I push that fear down because Baz cares about me. He’s shown that again and again. I'm not unworthy of his love.

“Did I not say it?” he says, genuinely surprised and concerned.

“I mean, maybe, but things were a bit...chaotic before.” My eyes flick over to our rumpled clothing strewn across my room. It honestly looks like a tornado somehow hit both a Primark and a Topshop. Baz laughs with a nod.

“Okay, good point. Let me correct that then.” He delicately holds my chin, making sure our eyes meet. Black hair surrounds his face like a dark halo. His deep sea eyes sparkle with his gorgeous smile. Everything about him is absolutely stunning. “I love you, Simon Snow. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, because you are the most kind, most caring, most wonderful man I’ve ever known. You are not a holding place or my second choice. Got that?”

I nod very vigorously. I can’t speak right now, my throat is too filled up with all my emotions for words. I wipe my snot and tears with the back of my hand. Extremely unsexy. God I’m a mess. But Baz still looks at me like I’m the most gorgeous thing in the world, because he loves me, imperfections and all. 

“Don’t cry, love,” Baz chuckles, “it’s okay.”

“Just overwhelmed,” I say, still sniffling, “and happy. I love you too.”

Baz kisses my forehead.  “I know, and I’m very happy as well.” He tucks his head into the crook of my neck. “Not to get all psychiatrist, but these issues of hidden insecurities and fear we both have are going to reoccur if we don’t communicate more.”

I nod, rubbing the arm he has across my chest. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Good.” He rolls slightly, chin placed on my shoulder. “In the name of communication then, I think not seeing each other for weeks on end isn’t good for us. We need to try to meet in person more.”

“Yeah, definitely. I think not seeing you for a while made my anxiety get worse. Thought you would dump me because it was too hard for us to meet up.”

“Honestly,” Baz sighs, “I felt something similar. Not as badly as you, I think, but still not fun. The self deprecating part of me wondered when you would finally get sick of my insane schedule and break up with me. I’m not exactly the easiest person to date. Or the easiest person, period.”

I laugh quietly and tug him closer. "Me neither, love."

Baz smiles all the way to his ears. He kisses me firmly, making my head spin, before pulling me away just as quickly. Our noses stay pressed together. “Suppose we match then, love.”

I throw my arms around his neck. I’m grinning, I can’t stop grinning. “And you like that?”

“I love it.”

“Me too.” I press against his back, reveling in his warm, smooth skin. “I promise to make more time for you. I want this to work. ”

Baz kisses a mole on my cheek. “So do I. I’m in this for the long haul, Simon.”

“Good, because I’m not letting you go.”

“I would love nothing more.”

I grab Baz’s head and smash our mouths together again. Baz instantly returns it, holding me tight. His body is a warm blanket on top of me, protecting me from anything bad in the world. Yeah, I could spend the rest of my life with Baz. I want that so much. Our snogging gets more intense. And each of us can definitely feel our mutual arousal pressed against our thighs.

Baz pulls off my mouth, but only a little. “What happened to needing to walk tomorrow?”

I shrug with a sly smile. “Eh, who needs walking? You can just carry me everywhere.”

He grins once before kissing me hard. I’m truly a lucky guy. And it’s incredible that Baz thinks the same. I’m living a charmed life.

———————————————

Three months later

“Y’know,” I pant, “you could help.”

Baz looks up from his phone, one eyebrow propped up. “Who carried all your KitchenAid hardware to our new place?”

“Okay, yeah, but that was  down the hall, not up four flights of stairs.” I drop another box of books and breathe heavily.

“That mixer was very heavy.”

“Baz.”

He lets out a very dramatic groan, making a show of hanging his head over the back of Penny’s settee. “Fine. I’ll help.”

I don’t miss the joking glint in his eyes. Arsehole. He just likes making a show of it. He kisses my cheek on the way out. I slap his arse, making him yelp, but his smirk tells me he’s not upset at all.

“Are you two flirting?” Penny calls out from the hall. “I told you, my flat is a flirt free zone!”

“No flirting, Bunce,” Baz says. “Just some light groping on Snow’s part.”

Penny groans so loud I’m pretty sure the whole floor can hear her. She walks in with a box filled with figurines. She glares at me viciously. I throw my hands up in surrender.

“I slapped his arse, didn’t grab it.”

“That’s not much better, Si.” She places the box on the ground and puts her hands on her hips. “Focus more on moving and less on your boyfriend’s arse.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, Pen, I’m sorry.” I wrap her up in a tight hug, and she holds me just as close. She’s been doing that a lot lately. I don’t mind. “Y’know, that offer to fly to Chicago and kick Micah’s arse is still on the table.”

That finally makes her laugh. She shakes her head against my chest. “No, it’s alright. I’m mad but not really vengeful. He tried to break up with me, I just wasn’t listening to him.”

“Still not an excuse to start dating someone else.”

“Yeah, I guess," she sniffles. "Thanks for subletting your flat to me."

I kiss the top of her head. "You're very welcome, Pen. Anything for you."

She holds me tighter. I let her hang on to me. It’s the least I can do.

“After all the fuss you made about me helping,” Baz shouts, “now you’re just standing there, Snow? Really?”

I sigh and look up over Penny’s head. Baz is balancing two large boxes because he likes to show off how strong he is. But he’s being helpful, and his strength is hot, so I don’t mind.

“I am comforting my friend,” I say, tone very high and mighty and mocking.

“Yes, but avoiding work must be a plus.”

“Oh, absolutely. And teasing you.”

Penny laughs and pulls back from me, looking at Baz as he puts down the boxes. “As a psychiatrist, you think it says something that even though you’re together now, you two still bicker like in school?”

Baz tilts his head side to side, stroking his chin like a great scholar. “Probably could say something about regressing to old patterns of behaviour from when we were children. But now after time together, working out our issues, and forming better patterns of behaviour, the bickering is now a show of affection rather than true antagonism. Therefore it has transformed into a healthy relationship feature from a bad one. A rare but possible event.”

Penny blinks at him. I’m trying to hide my blush. Don’t really want Penny to know how hot I find Baz being all smart and shit. Still have no idea what he’s talking about, but now I definitely want to rip his clothes off. Penny would kill me though. Murder would not be sexy.

“God,” she chuckles, “you really are a psychiatrist.”

“Yeah he is!” Shepard stumbles in, a box wobbling precariously on his arms. “Either that or he’s a weirdo who enjoys being in a hospital all the time for some reason.” The box tips over. I run up and catch it just in time. “Oh, whoops, sorry.”

“You break it, you suffer Bunce’s wrath, Shep,” Baz says.

“Damn right you do.” Penny walks past him, leveling a look over her glasses. Shepard gulps and watches her as she goes downstairs. And he follows her to help, looking totally out of it.

A pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist. Baz rests his chin on my shoulder. “In my humble psychiatrist opinion, I think our dear American might have a little crush on Bunce.”

I chuckle, cupping his cheek. “I wouldn’t blame him. Pen is pretty awesome.”

“Oh," he says with a teasing lilt, "should I be worried that she’s living down the hall from us now?”

I scoff and roll my eyes like he does at stupid people on telly. “Should  I be worried about you working with Dr. Lamb?”

Baz makes a very unattractive dry heaving sound. “Never. That backstabbing twat can go eat a bag of rusty screws. Only reason I give him the time of day is because he’s got my supervisor wrapped around his stupid finger.”

“And if you piss him off you’ll lose important psychiatry rounds, yes, yes, I know. He’s still gonna try to flirt with you.”

“Yeah, because he’s a twat. But I only want you.” He kisses a mole on my neck, his favourite one. “I love you, Simon.”

I kiss his temple. “I love you too.”

“I love you  so much I’m willing to give up my lovely condo to move into your weird exposed brick hipster building.”

I scoff and turn to him, arms around his slender neck. “Wasn’t it  your idea to move into a bigger place here because it’s closer to both of our workplaces?”

He smiles, kissing the tip of my nose. Bastard. I hated his teasing in school, but he’s right, now it’s out of love. Crazy, stupid, wonderful love. “Since when do you listen to me?”

“You have a good idea every once in a while.”

“How about this one?” He kisses me firmly. When he pulls back a little, my heart is beating rapidly.

“Yeah, I like that one.”

“Good.” We kiss again, soft and slow. Never before have I felt so safe and content kissing someone. Baz can hold me close and make all my worries go away. Part of me still can’t believe I get to have this. A person who adores me completely, including every single weird, flawed, stupid part too. But I have to stop thinking like that. I’m allowed to be happy. I’m allowed to be with someone so incredible. And someone so incredible can absolutely love me back. The work we've both put in to being together shows our mutual care again and again. We deserve to be happy together. It's amazing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Baz and I pull apart to look at Penny’s glaring face. “We leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re already defiling my apartment?”

“This is still technically Snow’s flat, you know,” Baz says smoothly.

“And you don’t want to know how we’ve already defiled it.” I give the biggest shit eating grin I can.

Penny waves her hands in front of herself. “Nope, nope, I’d rather live in blissful ignorance. Also, Simon," Penny hands me an envelope, "postman came. This is for you. Thought I'd grab it before they accidentally delivered it to me."

I rip it open with ease. Inside is a paper with familiar terrible handwriting. I grin ear to ear. Baz looks over my shoulder. "What is it?"

"It's from Jeremy." I scan down the letter. Luckily I'm adept at deciphering kid writing. "He says he misses me but likes his aunt's place a lot. They garden a lot and he's playing football on a community team.:

"All sound great," Penny says, having moved to the shoulder not occupied by Baz.

"Yeah, definitely. Oh, and he's got a new kitten. And guess what he named him?"

"What?" Penny and Baz say at the same time. It's pretty hilarious but I keep myself from laughing to avoid any glares.

"Snow." I hold up a Polaroid picture of a grinning Jeremy holding a small, fluffy white cat. Both of them can't help but make awing noises.

"Adorable," Baz says. "You did a good job with that kid, Snow."

I kiss his cheek. "Thanks, love."

"I want a cat," Penny sighs. Her nose scrunches up. "Am I going to turn into a crazy cat lady?"

"Hey," I say, "you were the one who told me that was a sexist stereotype. So no, you're going to be a very sane, wonderful, brilliant cat lady." I lean closer, whispering in her ear. "And maybe, once you feel better, you can try talking to a certain American. I think he's got a thing for you."

Penny sticks her tongue out, but before she can respond, Shepard comes stumbling in with a box of china. He places it very carefully. I can see him not so subtly watching Penny out of the corner of his eye. I don't think he wants to piss her off again. “Okay, I think that’s all of it. Wow, a lot of books. Reminds me of my Mom's office back in Omaha.”

"So I remind you of your mum?" Penny asks, arms crossed over her chest. Shepard's eyes go wide. I snort into Baz's shoulder

"No! No, definitely not, I just mean...you're both super smart."

Penny scoffs. "Good answer, American. Now let's get all my books unpacked."

I groan loudly. “Come on, Pen, not today. Why don’t we go to mine and Baz’s flat and we’ll make you dinner?”

“You mean I’ll be making dinner.” Baz raises his eyebrow at me. “You can’t cook, Simon.”

“I’ve been learning!”

He sighs over dramatically. “Very well. You can chop the onions.”

“I’ll take it.” I put my arm on Penny’s shoulders. She leans into me like always. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“Can I come?” Shepard asks, beaming wide. Who could say no to that face?

“Of course! You deserve a reward for all your hard work.”

“Awesome!” He dashes up beside Pen, looking all cute. And I can see Penny smiling, just a little. I’m glad to see her happy.

I put Jeremy's letter in my pocket. It's going right on the fridge the second we get to mine and Baz’s new place. Baz takes my hand in his, weaving our fingers together. He smiles, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I feel like I could fly on the power of love alone right now.

God, I truly have an amazing life.

———————————————

Awwww stupidly in love, just how I like it. Tbh I started writing this before Wayward So came out, and after I decided I wanted to deal with their communication issues like in the book but resolve them. I'm not throwing shade, just stating an opinion, plz don't kill me lol. But I do hope you all liked it! I never planned on writing a sequel but sometimes shit works out like that. I do have another idea for a short one shot but don't hold me to that, life is pretty nuts rn and I don't have a lot of free time, hence why this took me so long. Anyway, have a good day/night y'all!

[warnerxferrars]

The End is Here: Read the First Two Chapters of ‘Imagine Me’!

ELLA

JULIETTE

In the dead of night, I hear birds.

I hear them, I see them, I close my eyes and feel them, feathers shuddering in the air, bending the wind, wings grazing my shoulders when they ascend, when they alight. Discordant shrieks ring and echo, ring and echo—

How many?

Hundreds.

White birds, white with streaks of gold, like crowns atop their heads. They fly. They soar through the sky with strong, steady wings, masters of their destinies. They used to make me hope.

Never again.

I turn my face into the pillow, digging fingers into cotton flesh as the memories crash into me.

“Do you like them?” she says.

We’re in a big, wide room that smells like dirt. There are trees everywhere, so tall they nearly touch the pipes and beams of the open ceiling. Birds, dozens of them, screech as they stretch their wings. Their calls are loud. A little scary. I try not to flinch as one of the large white birds swoops past me. It wears a bright, neon-green bracelet around one leg. They all do.

This doesn’t make sense.

I remind myself that we’re indoors—the white walls, the concrete floor under my feet—and I look up at my mother, confused.

I’ve never seen Mum smile so much. Mostly she smiles when Dad is around, or when she and Dad are off in the corner, whispering together, but right now it’s just me and Mum and a bunch of birds and she’s so happy I decide to ignore the funny feeling in my stomach. Things are better when Mum is in a good mood.

“Yes,” I lie. “I like them a lot.”

Her eyes brighten. “I knew you would. Emmaline didn’t care for them, but you—you’ve always been a bit too fond of things, haven’t you, darling? Not at all like your sister.” Somehow, her words come out mean. They don’t seem mean, but they sound mean.

I frown.

I’m still trying to figure out what’s happening when she says—

“I had one as a pet when I was about your age. Back then, they were so common we could never be rid of them.” She laughs, and I watch her as she watches a bird, midflight. “One of them lived in a tree near my house, and it called my name whenever I walked past. Can you imagine?” Her smile fades as she asks the question.

Finally, she turns to look at me.

“They’re very nearly extinct now. You understand why I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Of course,” I say, but I’m lying again. There is little I understand about Mum.

She nods. “These are a special sort of creature. Intelligent. They can speak, dance. And each of them wears a crown.” She turns away again, staring at the birds the way she stares at all the things she makes for work: with joy. “The sulphur-crested cockatoo mates for life,” she says. “Just like me and your father.”

The sulphur-crested cockatoo.

I shiver, suddenly, at the unexpected sensation of a warm hand on my back, fingers trailing lightly along my spine.

“Love,” he says, “are you all right?”

When I say nothing he shifts, the sheets rustling, and he tucks me into his hollows, his body curving around mine. He’s warm and strong and as his hand slides down my torso I cant my head toward him, finding peace in his presence, in the safety of his arms. His lips touch my skin, a graze against my neck so subtle it sparks, hot and cold, right down to my toes.

“Is it happening again?” he whispers.

My mother was born in Australia.

I know this because she once told me so, and because now, despite my desperation to resist many of the memories now returned to me, I can’t forget. She once told me that the sulphur-crested cockatoo was native to Australia. It was introduced to New Zealand in the nineteenth century, but Evie, my mother, didn’t discover them there. She fell in love with the birds back home, as a child, when one of them, she claims, saved her life.

These were the birds that once haunted my dreams.

These birds, kept and bred by a crazy woman. I feel embarrassed to realize I’d held fast to nonsense, to the faded, disfigured impressions of old memories poorly discarded. I’d hoped for more. Dreamed of more. Disappointment lodges in my throat, a cold stone I’m unable to swallow.

And then

again

I feel it

I stiffen against the nausea that precedes a vision, the sudden punch to the gut that means there’s more, there’s more, there’s always more.

Aaron pulls me closer, holds me tighter against his chest.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “I’m right here, love. I’ll be right here.”

I cling to him, squeezing my eyes shut as my head swims. These memories were a gift from my sister, Emmaline. The sister I only just discovered, only just recovered.

And only because she fought to find me.

Despite my parents’ relentless efforts to rid our minds of the lingering proof of their atrocities, Emmaline prevailed. She used her psychokinetic powers to return to me what was stolen from my memories. She gave me this gift—this gift of remembering—to help me save myself. To save her. To stop our parents.

To fix the world.

But now, in the wake of a narrow escape, this gift has become a curse. Every hour my mind is reborn. Altered. The memories keep coming.

And my dead mother refuses to be silenced.

“Little bird,” she whispers, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “It’s time for you to fly away now.”

“But I don’t want to go,” I say, fear making my voice shake. “I want to stay here, with you and Dad and Emmaline. I still don’t understand why I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to understand,” she says gently.

I go uncomfortably still.

Mum doesn’t yell. She’s never yelled. My whole life, she’s never raised a hand to me, never shouted or called me names. Not like Aaron’s dad. But Mum doesn’t need to yell. Sometimes she just says things, things like you don’t have to understand and there’s a warning there, a finality in her words that’s always scared me.

I feel tears forming, burning the whites of my eyes, and—

“No crying,” she says. “You’re far too old for that now.”

I sniff, hard, fighting back the tears. But my hands won’t stop shaking.

Mum looks up, nods at someone behind me. I turn around just in time to spot Paris, Mr. Anderson, waiting with my suitcase. There’s no kindness in his eyes. No warmth at all. He turns away from me, looks at Mum. He doesn’t say hello.

He says: “Has Max settled in yet?”

“Oh, he’s been ready for days.” Mum glances at her watch, distracted. “You know Max,” she says, smiling faintly. “Always a perfectionist.”

“Only when it comes to your wishes,” says Mr. Anderson. “I’ve never seen a grown man so besotted with his wife.”

Mum smiles wider. She seems about to say something, but I cut her off.

“Are you talking about Dad?” I ask, my heart racing. “Will Dad be there?”

My mother turns to me, surprised, like she’d forgotten I was there. She turns back to Mr. Anderson. “How’s Leila doing, by the way?”

“Fine,” he says. But he sounds irritated.

“Mum?” Tears threaten again. “Am I going to stay with Dad?”

But Mum doesn’t seem to hear me. She’s talking to Mr. Anderson when she says, “Max will walk you through everything when you arrive, and he’ll be able to answer most of your questions. If there’s something he can’t answer, it’s likely beyond your clearance.”

Mr. Anderson looks suddenly annoyed, but he says nothing. Mum says nothing.

I can’t stand it.

Tears are spilling down my face now, my body shaking so hard it makes my breaths rattle. “Mum?” I whisper. “Mum, please a-answer me—”

Mum clamps a cold, hard hand around my shoulder and I go instantly still. Quiet. She’s not looking at me. She won’t look at me. “You’ll handle this, too,” she says. “Won’t you, Paris?”

Mr. Anderson meets my eyes then. So blue. So cold. “Of course.”

A flash of heat courses through me. A rage so sudden it briefly replaces my terror.

I hate him.

I hate him so much that it does something to me when I look at him—and the abrupt surge of emotion makes me feel brave.

I turn back to Mum. Try again.

“Why does Emmaline get to stay?” I ask, wiping angrily at my wet cheeks. “If I have to go, can’t we at least go toge—”

I cut myself off when I spot her.

My sister, Emmaline, is peeking out at me from behind the mostly closed door. She’s not supposed to be here. Mum said so.

Emmaline is supposed to be doing her swimming lessons.

But she’s here, her wet hair dripping on the floor, and she’s staring at me, eyes wide as plates. She’s trying to say something, but her lips move too fast for me to follow. And then, out of nowhere, a bolt of electricity runs up my spine and I hear her voice, sharp and strange—

Liars.

LIARS.

KILL THEM ALL

My eyes fly open and I can’t catch my breath, my chest heaving, heart pounding. Warner holds me, making soothing sounds as he runs a reassuring hand up and down my arm.

Tears spill down my face and I swipe at them, hands shaking.

“I hate this,” I whisper, horrified at the tremble in my voice. “I hate this so much. I hate that it keeps happening. I hate what it does to me,” I say. “I hate it.”

Warner Aaron presses his cheek against my shoulder with a sigh, his breath teasing my skin.

“I hate it, too,” he says softly.

I turn, carefully, in the cradle of his arms, and press my forehead to his bare chest.

It’s been less than two days since we escaped Oceania. Two days since I killed my own mother. Two days since I met the residue of my sister, Emmaline. Only two days since my entire life was upended yet again, which feels impossible.

Two days and already things are on fire around us.

This is our second night here, at the Sanctuary, the locus of the rebel group run by Nouria—Castle’s daughter—and her wife, Sam. We’re supposed to be safe here. We’re supposed to be able to breathe and regroup after the hell of the last few weeks, but my body refuses to settle. My mind is overrun, under attack. I thought the rush of new memories would eventually gutter out, but these last twenty-four hours have been an unusually brutal assault, and I seem to be the only one struggling.

Emmaline gifted all of us—all the children of the supreme commanders—with memories stolen by our parents. One by one we were awoken to the truths our parents had buried, and one by one we were returned to normal lives.

All but me.

The others have since moved on, reconciled their timelines, made sense of the betrayal. My mind, on the other hand, continues to falter. Spin. But then, none of the others lost as much as I did; they don’t have as much to remember. Even Warner—Aaron—isn’t experiencing so thorough a re­imagining of his life.

It’s beginning to scare me.

I feel as though my history is being rewritten, infinite paragraphs scratched out and hastily revised. Old and new images—memories—layer atop each other until the ink runs, rupturing the scenes into something new, something incomprehensible. Occasionally my thoughts feel like disturbing hallucinations, and the onslaught is so invasive I fear it’s doing irreparable damage.

Because something is changing.

Every new memory is delivered with an emotional violence that drives into me, reorders my mind. I’d been feeling this pain in flickers—the sickness, the nausea, the disorientation—but I haven’t wanted to question it too deeply. I haven’t wanted to look too closely. The truth is, I didn’t want to believe my own fears. But the truth is: I am a punctured tire. Every injection of air leaves me both fuller and flatter.

I am forgetting.

“Ella?”

Terror bubbles up inside of me, bleeds through my open eyes. It takes me a moment to remember that I am Juliette Ella. Each time, it takes me a moment longer.

Hysteria threatens—

I force it down.

“Yes,” I say, forcing air into my lungs. “Yes.”

Warner Aaron stiffens. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie. My heart is pounding fast, too fast. I don’t know why I’m lying. It’s a fruitless effort; he can sense everything I’m feeling. I should just tell him. I don’t know why I’m not telling him. I know why I’m not telling him.

I’m waiting.

I’m waiting to see if this will pass, if the lapses in my memory are only glitches waiting to be repaired. Saying it out loud makes it too real, and it’s too soon to say these thoughts aloud, to give in to the fear. After all, it’s only been a day since it started. It only occurred to me yesterday that something was truly wrong.

It occurred to me because I made a mistake.

Mistakes.

We were sitting outside, staring at the stars. I couldn’t remember ever seeing the stars like that—sharp, clear. It was late, so late it wasn’t night but infant morning, and the view was dizzying. I was freezing. A brave wind stole through a copse nearby, filling the air with steady sound. I was full of cake. Warner smelled like sugar, like decadence. I felt drunk on joy.

I don’t want to wait, he said, taking my hand. Squeezing it. Let’s not wait.

I blinked up at him. For what?

For what?

For what?

How did I forget what had happened just hours earlier? How did I forget the moment he asked me to marry him?

It was a glitch. It felt like a glitch. Where there was once a memory was suddenly a vacancy, a cavity held empty only until nudged into realignment.

I recovered, remembered. Warner laughed.

I did not.

I forgot the name of Castle’s daughter. I forgot how we landed at the Sanctuary. I forgot, for a full two minutes, how I ever escaped Oceania. But my errors were temporary; they seemed like natural delays. I experienced only confusion as my mind buffered, hesitation as the memories resurfaced, waterlogged and vague. I thought maybe I was tired. Overwhelmed. I took none of it seriously, not until I was sitting under the stars and couldn’t remember promising to spend the rest of my life with someone.

Mortification.

Mortification so acute I thought I’d expire from the full force of it. Even now fresh heat floods my face, and I find I’m relieved Warner can’t see in the dark.

Aaron, not Warner.

Aaron.

“I can’t tell just now whether you’re afraid or embarrassed,” he says, and exhales softly. It sounds almost like a laugh. “Are you worried about Kenji? About the others?”

I grab on to this half-truth with my whole heart.

“Yes,” I say. “Kenji. James. Adam.”

Kenji has been sick in bed since very early this morning. I squint at the slant of moon through our window and remember that it’s long past midnight, which would mean that, technically, Kenji got sick yesterday morning.

Regardless, it was terrifying for all of us.

The drugs Nazeera forced into Kenji on their international flight from Sector 45 to Oceania were a dose too strong, and he’s been reeling ever since. He finally collapsed—the twins, Sonya and Sara, have checked in on him and say he’s going to be just fine—but not before we learned that Anderson has been rounding up the children of the supreme commanders.

Adam and James and Lena and Valentina and Nicolás are all in Anderson’s custody.

James is in his custody.

It’s been a devastating, awful couple of days. It’s been a devastating, awful couple of weeks.

Months, really.

Years.

Some days, no matter how far back I go, I can’t seem to find the good times. Some days, the occasional happiness I’ve known feels like a bizarre dream. An error. Hyperreal and unfocused, the colors too bright and the sounds too strong.

Figments of my imagination.

It was just days ago that clarity came to me, bearing gifts. Just days ago that the worst seemed behind me, that the world seemed full of potential, that my body was stronger than ever, my mind fuller, sharper, more capable than I’d ever known it.

But now

But now

But now I feel like I’m clinging to the blurring edges of sanity, that elusive, fair-weather friend always breaking my heart.

Aaron pulls me close and I melt into him, grateful for his warmth, for the steadiness of his arms around me. I take a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. I inhale the rich, heady scent of his skin, the faint aroma of gardenias he somehow carries with him always. Seconds pass in perfect silence and we listen to each other breathe.

Slowly, my heart rate steadies.

The tears dry up. The fears take five. Terror is distracted by a passing butterfly and sadness takes a nap.

For a little while it’s just me and him and us and everything is untarnished, untouched by darkness.

I knew I loved Warner Aaron before all this—before we were captured by The Reestablishment, before we were ripped apart, before we learned of our shared history—but that love was new, green, its depths uncharted, untested. In that brief, glimmering window during which the gaping holes in my memory felt fully accounted for, things between us changed. Everything between us changed. Even now, even with the noise in my head, I feel it.

Here.

This.

My bones against his bones. This is my home.

I feel him suddenly stiffen and I pull back, concerned. I can’t see much of him in this perfect darkness, but I feel the delicate rise of goose bumps along his arms when he says,

“What are you thinking about?”

My eyes widen, comprehension dethroning concern. “I was thinking about you.”

“Me?”

I close the gap between us again. Nod against his chest.

He says nothing, but I can hear his heart, racing in the quiet, and eventually I hear him exhale. It’s a heavy, uneven sound, like he might’ve been holding his breath for too long. I wish I could see his face. No matter how much time we spend together, I still forget how much he can feel my emotions, especially at times like this, when our bodies are pressed together.

Gently, I run my hand down his back. “I was thinking about how much I love you,” I say.

He goes uncommonly still, but only for a moment. And then he touches my hair, his fingers slowly combing the strands.

“Did you feel it?” I ask.

When he doesn’t answer, I pull back again. I blink against the black until I’m able to make out the glint of his eyes, the shadow of his mouth.

“Aaron?”

“Yes,” he says, but he sounds a little breathless.

“Yes, you felt it?”

“Yes,” he says again.

“What does it feel like?”

He sighs. Rolls onto his back. He’s quiet for so long that, for a while, I’m not sure he’s going to answer. Then, softly, he says:

“It’s hard to describe. It’s a pleasure so close to pain I sometimes can’t tell the two apart.”

“That sounds awful.”

“No,” he says. “It’s exquisite.”

“I love you.”

A sharp intake of breath. Even in this darkness I see the strain in his jaw—the tension there—as he stares at the ceiling.

I sit straight up, surprised.

Aaron’s reaction is so unstudied I don’t know how I never noticed it before. But then, maybe this is new. Maybe something really has changed between us. Maybe I never loved him this much before. That would make sense, I suppose. Because when I think about it, when I really think about how much I love him now, after everything we’ve—

Another sudden, sharp breath. And then he laughs, nervously.

“Wow,” I say.

He claps a hand over his eyes. “This is vaguely mortifying.”

I’m smiling now, very nearly laughing. “Hey. It’s—”

My body seizes.

A violent shudder rushes up my skin and my spine goes rigid, my bones held in place by invisible pins, my mouth frozen open and trying to draw breath.

Heat fills my vision.

I hear nothing but static, grand rapids, white water, ferocious wind. Feel nothing. Think nothing. Am nothing.

I am, for the most infinitesimal moment—

Free.

My eyelids flutter open closed open closed open closed I am a wing, two wings, a swinging door, five birds

Fire climbs inside of me, explodes.

Ella?

The voice appears in my mind with swift strength, sharp, like darts to the brain. Dully, I realize that I’m in pain—my jaw aches, my body still suspended in an unnatural position—but I ignore it. The voice tries again:

Juliette?

Realization strikes, a knife to the knees. Images of my sister fill my mind: bones and melted skin, webbed fingers, sodden mouth, no eyes. Her body suspended underwater, long brown hair like a swarm of eels. Her strange, disembodied voice pierces through me. And so I say, without speaking:

Emmaline?

Emotion drives into me, fingers digging in my flesh, sensation scraping across my skin. Her relief is tangible. I can taste it. She’s relieved, relieved I recognized her, relieved she found me, relieved relieved relieved—

What happened? I ask.

A deluge of images floods my brain until it sinks, I sink. Her memories drown my senses, clog lungs. I choke as the feelings crash into me. I see Max, my father, inconsolable in the wake of his wife’s murder; I see Supreme Commander Ibrahim, frantic and furious, demanding Anderson gather the other children before it’s too late; I see Emmaline, briefly abandoned, seizing an opportunity—

I gasp.

Evie made it so that only she or Max could control Emmaline’s powers, and with Evie dead, the fail-safes implemented were suddenly weakened. Emmaline realized that in the wake of our mother’s death there would be a brief window of opportunity—a brief window during which she might be able to wrest back control of her own mind before Max remade the algorithms.

But Evie’s work was too good, and Max’s reaction too prompt. Emmaline was only partly successful.

Dying, she says to me.

Dying.

Every flash of her emotion is accompanied by torturous assault. My flesh feels bruised. My spine seems liquid, my eyes blind, searing. I feel Emmaline—her voice, her feelings, her visions—more strongly than before, because she’s stronger than before. That she managed to regain enough power to find me is proof alone that she is at least partly untethered, unrestrained. Max and Evie had been experimenting on Emmaline to a reckless degree in the last several months, trying to make her stronger even as her body withered. This, this, is the consequence.

Being this close to her is nothing short of excruciating.

I think I’ve screamed.

Have I screamed?

Everything about Emmaline is heightened to a fever pitch; her presence is wild, breathtaking, and it shudders to life inside my nerves. Sound and sensation streak across my vision, barrel through me violently. I hear a spider scuttle across the wooden floor. Tired moths drag their wings along the wall. A mouse startles, settles, in its sleep. Dust motes fracture against a window, shrapnel skidding across the glass.

My eyes skitter, unhinged in my skull.

I feel the oppressive weight of my hair, my limbs, my flesh wrapped around me like cellophane, a leather casket. My tongue, my tongue is a dead lizard perched in my mouth, rough and heavy. The fine hairs on my arms stand and sway, stand and sway. My fists are so tightly clenched my fingernails pierce the soft flesh of my palms.

I feel a hand on me. Where? Am I?

Lonely, she says.

She shows me.

A vision of us, back in the laboratory where I first saw her, where I killed our mother. I see myself from Emma­line’s point of view and it’s startling. She can’t see much more than a blur, but she can feel my presence, can make out the shape of my form, the heat emanating from my body. And then my words, my own words, hurled back into my brain—

there has to be another way

you don’t have to die

we can get through this together

please

i want my sister back

i want you to live

Emmaline

i won’t let you die here

Emmaline Emmaline

we can get through this together

we can get through this together

we can get through this

together

A cold, metallic sensation begins to bloom in my chest. It moves through me, up my arms, down my throat, pushes into my gut. My teeth throb. Emmaline’s pain claws and slithers, clings with a ferocity I can’t bear. Her tenderness, too, is desperate, terrifying in its sincerity. She’s overcome by emotion, hot and cold, fueled by rage and devastation.

She’s been looking for me, all this time.

In these last couple of days Emmaline has been searching the conscious world for my mind, trying to find safe harbor, a place to rest.

A place to die.

Emmaline, I say. Please—

Sister.

Something tightens in my mind, squeezes. Fear propels through me, punctures organs. I’m wheezing. I smell earth and damp, decomposing leaves and I feel the stars staring at my skin, wind pushing through darkness like an anxious parent. My mouth is open, catching moths. I am on the ground.

Where?

No longer in my bed, I realize, no longer in my tent, I realize, no longer protected.

But when did I walk?

Who moved my feet? Who pushed my body?

How far?

I try to look around but I’m blind, my head trapped in a vise, my neck reduced to fraying sinew. My breaths fill my ears, harsh and loud, harsh and loud, rough rough gasping efforts my head

swings

My fists unclench, nails scraping as my fingers uncurl, palms flattening, I smell heat, taste wind, hear dirt.

Dirt under my hands, in my mouth, under my fingernails. I’m screaming, I realize. Someone is touching me and I’m screaming.

Stop, I scream. Please, Emmaline— Please don’t do this—

Lonely, she says.

l o  n   e    l    y

And with a sudden, ferocious agony—

I am displaced.

KENJI

It feels weird to call it luck.

It feels weird, but in some perverse, twisted way, this is luck. Luck that I’m standing in the middle of damp, freezing woodlands before the sun’s bothered to lift its head. Luck that my bare upper body is half-numb from cold.

Luck that Nazeera’s with me.

We pulled on our invisibility almost instantly, so she and I are at least temporarily safe here, in the half-mile stretch of untouched wilderness between regulated and unregulated territories. The Sanctuary was built on a couple of acres of unregulated land not far from where I’m standing, and it’s masterfully hidden in plain sight only because of Nouria’s unnatural talent for bending and manipulating light. Within Nouria’s jurisdiction, the climate is somehow more temperate, the weather more predictable. But out here in the wild, the winds are relentless and combative. The temperatures are dangerous.

Still— We’re lucky to be here at all.

Nazeera and I had been out of bed for a while, racing through the dark in an attempt at murdering one another. In the end it all turned out to be a complicated misunderstanding, but it was also a kind of kismet: If Nazeera hadn’t snuck into my room at three o’clock in the morning and nearly killed me, I wouldn’t have chased her through the forest, beyond the sight and soundproof protections of the Sanctuary. If we hadn’t been so far from the Sanctuary, we never would’ve heard the distant, echoing screams of citizens crying out in terror. If we hadn’t heard those cries, we never would’ve rushed toward the source. And if we hadn’t done any of that, I never would’ve seen my best friend screaming her way into dawn.

I would’ve missed this. This:

J on her knees in the cold dirt, Warner crouched down beside her, both of them looking like death while the clouds literally melt out of the sky above them. The two of them are parked right outside the entrance to the Sanctuary, straddling the untouched stretch of forest that serves as a buffer between our camp and the heart of the nearest sector, number 241.

Why?

I froze when I saw them there, two broken figures entwined, limbs planted in the ground. I was paralyzed by confusion, then fear, then disbelief, all while the trees bent sideways and the wind snapped at my body, cruelly reminding me that I’d never had a chance to put on a shirt.

If my night had gone differently, I might’ve had that chance.

If my night had gone differently, I might’ve enjoyed, for the first time in my life, a romantic sunrise and an overdue reconciliation with a beautiful girl. Nazeera and I would’ve laughed about how she’d kicked me in the back and almost killed me, and how afterward I almost shot her for it. After that I would’ve taken a long shower, slept until noon, and eaten my weight in breakfast foods.

I had a plan for today: take it easy.

I wanted a little more time to heal after my most recent near-death experience, and I didn’t think I was asking for much. I thought that, maybe, after everything I’d been through, the world might finally cut me some slack. Let me breathe between tragedies.

Nah.

Instead, I’m here, dying of frostbite and horror, watching the world fall to pieces around me. The sky, swinging wildly between horizontal and vertical horizons. The air, puncturing at random. Trees, sinking into the ground. Leaves, tap-dancing around me. I���m seeing it—I’m actively witnessing it—and still I can’t believe it.

But I’m choosing to call it luck.

Luck that I’m seeing this, luck that I feel like I might throw up, luck that I ran all this way in my still-ill, injured body just in time to score a front-row seat to the end of the world.

Luck, fate, coincidence, serendipity—

I’ll call this sick, sinking feeling in my gut a fucking magic trick if it’ll help me keep my eyes open long enough to bear witness. To figure out how to help.

Because no one else is here.

No one but me and Nazeera, which seems crazy to an improbable degree. The Sanctuary is supposed to have security on patrol at all times, but I see no sentries, and no sign of incoming aid. No soldiers from the nearby sector, either. Not even curious, hysterical civilians. Nothing.

It’s like we’re standing in a vacuum, on an invisible plane of existence. I don’t know how J and Warner made it this far without being spotted. The two of them look like they were literally dragged through the dirt; I have no idea how they escaped notice. And though it’s possible J only just started screaming, I still have a thousand unanswered questions.

They’ll have to wait.

I glance at Nazeera out of habit, forgetting for a moment that she and I are invisible. But then I feel her step closer, and I breathe a sigh of relief as her hand slips into mine. She squeezes my fingers. I return the pressure.

Lucky, I remind myself.

It’s lucky that we’re here right now, because if I’d been in bed where I should’ve been, I wouldn’t have even known J was in trouble. I would’ve missed the tremble in my friend’s voice as she cried out, begging for mercy. I would’ve missed the shattering colors of a twisted sunrise, a peacock in the middle of hell. I would’ve missed the way J clamped her head between her hands and sobbed. I would’ve missed the sharp scents of pine and sulfur in the wind, would’ve missed the dry ache in my throat, the tremor moving through my body. I would’ve missed the moment J mentioned her sister by name. I wouldn’t have heard J specifically ask her sister not to do something.

Yeah, this is definitely luck.

Because if I hadn’t heard any of that, I wouldn’t have known who to blame.

Emmaline.

(EpicReads)

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 11: SLISKE’S ENDGAME

QUEST SUMMARY:

The eclipse is nigh. The end of Sliske’s games draws near. All the gods gather for one final race for the Stone, taking them through a shadowy labyrinth of the devious Mahjarrat’s design. Not only does Jahaan have to survive the trials Sliske sets out for them, but he has to compete against every major deity in Gielinor. Then, and only then, will he have a shot at ending Sliske’s madness once and for all…

CHAPTER 5 - AMOR FATI

He made it. By the gods, he made it.

After spending what felt like half a lifetime running through that cursed labyrinth, Jahaan finally found himself at the end. Stepping through the final door, Jahaan could see it in the distance. The Stone of Jas, tantalisingly close.

But, of course, nothing’s that simple.

A large chasm separated him from the Stone. The ground simply seemed to end, a terrifyingly steep drop into the black abyss of nothingness. Jahaan felt himself getting vertigo just by peering over the edge. There were two thin bridges crossing over to the Stone, both blocked by an energy field of some kind.

Jahaan tried to place his hand through the shield, but naturally got blocked. Frustrated, he looked around the side, wondering if there was a way to jump past the shield, but it was too risky.

Grunting, Jahaan called out, “What’s this about, Sliske? I’m at the end of your stupid maze. Give me the Stone.”

A cackle reverberated around him. “Patience, Janny… there’s just one more hurdle in your way. For that, we’re awaiting the company of another…”

Irritated, Jahaan settled himself on a ledge and waited, examining the remnants of his backpack to see if he had any food left. Seeing that all the supplies had been used, Jahaan tossed the backpack down to the ground with a huff.

It didn’t take long for him to work out Sliske’s intentions, that being forcing the World Guardian to race another competitor. It seemed ridiculous - he had reached the Stone first, why should he have to go through this pathetic little hurdle?

Because Sliske finds it funny, Jahaan grumbled internally. No doubt, that was why Sliske did a lot of things.

Before long, the chamber door opened again and Zamorak emerged through, entourage in tow. He regarded the bored looking World Guardian, then the bridges over the chasm and the Stone beyond. “What’s all this bullshit?”

Picking himself up off the ledge, Jahaan rolled his eyes. “I think Sliske wants us to race.”

Zamorak mirrored the eye roll. “Of course he fucking does.”

“Gentlemen, please!” Sliske’s vexing tone interrupted them. “Take your places. The race for the Stone is about to begin!”

Reluctantly, Jahaan and Zamorak readied themselves on the starting block just in front of the protective shield. Honestly, Jahaan was more pissed off than he was anxious. After traversing the labyrinth for hours and making it to this ‘final section’ minutes before anyone else, he still had to race Zamorak for the Stone. Zamorak, a taller and stronger Mahjarrat not weighed down by the burden of armour. Jahaan deduced quickly that Sliske no doubt just wanted to see him lose up close and personal, to drag the Stone just out of reach at the very last minute. One last middle finger in all these bullshit games. Despite that, Jahaan’s initial goal had not changed - kill Sliske. Getting the Stone would have just been a nice bonus. But since he was so close to winning, damnit, he wanted to win. Maybe he and Icthlarin could end up doing some good with the Stone, or at least hide it away to prevent another rerun of the God Wars.

However, his disheartened mood lifted slightly when Sliske announced, “Oh dear, this won’t do at all. I think Jahaan deserves a little headstart - he did make it here first, after all. I’m going to make you work for it, Zammy. Now, on your marks… get set… RUN!”

Thinking he actually had a chance, Jahaan bolted forwards the second the shield dropped, sprinting down the narrow platform and over the first hurdle effortlessly.

But it wasn’t long until Zamorak was running too.

Zamorak was incredibly agile for a creature of his size, but so was Jahaan. The World Guardian vaulted over the obstacles with ease. The height difference certainly worked in Zamorak’s favour, but Jahaan was nimble, managing to edge his way into the lead before Zamorak clawed it back.

Zamorak’s entourage looked on in trepidation. When Moia realised her master’s victory wasn’t guaranteed she resorted to desperate measures. Picking up a stray piece of debris, Moia aimed as best she could and hurled it across the chasm towards Jahaan. Unfortunately for the World Guardian, Moia’s aim was near flawless, catching him hard at the back of his knee joint. While his armour protected him from any pain, the shock and impact was enough to make Jahaan stumble - he tripped forwards, gravity cruelly catching up to him as he toppled down onto the narrow platform, clutching onto the edges of the walkway for dear life. A small chunk of the platform broke off when he hit the ground. Jahaan watched it fall into the abyss below with a furious heartbeat, his life flashing before his eyes as he realised how close he was to following that debris downwards.

Then he looked up and saw his chance of success being stripped away from him as Zamorak reached the end of the course.

As Zamorak hopped off the course, Sliske emerged from his hiding place, the Stone looming over his hunched frame. With a flourish of his hands, a spell was cast, and Zamorak’s entourage - along with all the other gods and their followers - were ejected from the maze. “Bravo, brother! Your little half-breed really did you a solid at the end there.”

“Get out of the way, Sliske,” Zamorak ordered, striding forwards. “I’ve beaten your pathetic little game. The Stone is mine.”

“Yes, yes,” Sliske accepted with a dismissive wave of his hand, stepping out of the way to allow Zamorak an unhindered path to the Stone. “A deal is a deal, and I am a man of my word. The Stone is yours - do with it what you will.”

“Yes, a deal is a deal, my Legatus Maximus,” Zaros’ voice emerged before he did, Seren teleporting by his side soon after.

Grumbling, Zamorak rolled his eyes and let his shoulders sag. “So fucking close… I thought you’d invoke this here. You want me to give you the Stone, right?”

“As the terms of Vinculum Juris dictate, I request for you to give the Stone to me,” Zaros confirmed. Zamorak could have sworn he felt traces of smugness coming from the deity, but he shrugged it off.

“Fair enough. The Stone’s yours,” Zamorak conceded. “A fair exchange for the salvation of my people.”

In all this, Sliske was thoroughly taken aback. “But… but how are you two here? You should have been cast out of the labyrinth when Zamorak reached the Stone.”

“You are not as powerful as you think you are, Sliske,” Seren stated with unwavering conviction. “We are beyond your tricks.”

“But she said…” Sliske shook his head in bafflement, trying to blink the pieces into place. “It doesn't matter. The game is over. The Stone now belongs to Zamorak.”

“You cannot do this Sliske,” Seren maintained, forcefully. “You know that any god being in possession of the Stone would be an act of war. It would plunge the universe into chaos.”

“Well, it’s rather fitting Zamorak has the Stone then, isn’t it?”

“But a war, Sliske,” Seren emphasised. “It would wake them. You must know that the elder gods sleep below us and you know what will happen if they wake!”

“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps they had a part in all of this?” Sliske insinuated, causing even Zaros to falter.

This time though, it was Zamorak’s turn to pipe up, “You’re saying we’re supposed to believe all your bullshit was the will of the elder gods? Yeah, sure thing, you mad bastard.”

“Jas…” Jahaan gasped, having stayed quiet in the background until now, listening intently. With encouragement from Seren, Jahaan continued, “That orb in your study, I touched it, and my head was filled with a vision…” with wide-eyes of realisation, Jahaan looked up at Sliske. “You were talking to Jas, weren’t you? She was the one who showed you how to get the Stone, and how to use it to strip the gods of their powers.”

“Ding ding!” Sliske clapped his hands sharply together. “Congratulations, Janny. Of all of them to figure it out, I’m surprised it was you, but I’m impressed nonetheless.”

The cogs in Zaros’ mind were grinding with indignation. “You… had an audience with the most powerful being in the universe. You have been her agent. Why you?”

“Perhaps she was drawn to my magnetic personality?” Sliske grinned, unable to resist the tease. He recovered quickly though, continuing, “I don’t know why she chose me, but she did. We came to a mutually beneficial relationship. She gave me the power and knowledge I needed, and in return, I brought her the gods.”

Seren blinked. “You… brought her the gods?”

Sliske’s lip curled upwards slightly at one side. “Indeed. You intrigued her. She wished to study you, and I told her I could provide the means for that research.”

Jahaan angrily countered, “So what was all this bullshit about trying to steal my soul?”

Raising an eyebrow, Sliske replied, “You think I’m incapable of having two plans on the go? Now, my work for Jas is done, and the Stone is of no further use to me. The Staff, on the other hand...”

Sliske summoned the Staff of Armadyl to his hands, shooting Jahaan an intense look that made the World Guardian physically recoil. “I have one last use for.”

Suddenly, a haunting screech pierced the air. Soon after, Kerapac teleported into the clearing, adopting a proud and defiant stance that challenged all the gods before him.

“You should not be able to be here!” Sliske hissed, feeling the card house he had built start to wobble. “The Stone’s power should have cast you out!”

Kerapac stretched his jaw, showing off the fearsome set of fangs he housed inside. “Ignorant vosk. The Stone is our tether; you cannot keep us from it!”

Stalking forward, Kerapac’s shoulders raised and sagged with heavy, seething breaths. “You bicker over the Catalyst like a toy or trophy, but I know it for what it is. It is the whip that cuts our flesh. It is the collar that chokes us. It is the enslavement of my people!”

From out of his robe, Kerapac brought out an ancient-looking mirror with a plated gold frame - the Elder Mirror.

Holding it aloft and pointing it at the Stone of Jas, he screamed, “WE WILL NO LONGER BE SLAVES!”

Suddenly, sparks started to fly out of the mirror, attaching themselves to the Stone with a sickening crackle of pure elder energy. The cavern started to shake violently, rocks detaching from the ceiling and crashing down to the ground, shattering on impact. The Stone itself was fizzing and whirling, breaking apart with a furious anger that thrummed and pounded as the earth shaked and quivered.

Zaros and Seren gasped, eyes transfixed on the beam of energy that threatened to tear the walls down around them. They knew that Kerapac was channeling the anima mundi from around the Heart of Gielinor straight into the Elder Mirror. The anima mundi was then duplicated infinitely as it was redirected back into the Stone of Jas, overwhelming the precious elder artefact.

They also knew that the damage had been done, and that they needed to escape. Thus, they teleported out of the cavern and left the Stone to its fate.

Seeing their swift exit, Zamorak was smart enough to follow suit closely after.

Jahaan saw that Sliske was looking at similar moves to escape, but was damned if he was going to let him get away that easily.

“NO!” Jahaan screamed, launching himself at Sliske and tackling him to the ground. Once he’d grabbed onto the Mahjarrat, he managed to transport them both into the Shadow Realm, praying that being in a separate realm of existence from the Stone of Jas might protect them somehow. Fortunately, he’d caught Sliske off-guard enough to accomplish this and the two tumbled into the Shadow Realm.

Wasting no time, Jahaan dragged Sliske to his feet by his robe and started to pull him into a sprint. “RUN!”

Instinct taking over, Sliske complied. He and the World Guardian ran as fast as possible away from the Stone of Jas, leaping behind a downed statue just as the blast hit.

The aftershock of the blast had knocked Jahaan from the Shadow Realm - that much he felt from the difference in the air, sucking in a lungful of dust and debris that threatened to choke him to death. When the light faded and the ringing in his ears subsided enough to take stock, Jahaan dared to peer over the pillar and survey the destruction.

The Stone was no more - that was the first thing that captured his attention. Only a shattered plinth remained, fragments of the Stone’s surface thrown around the remnants of the cavern, piling against the walls.

Squinting, Jahaan thought he could see Kerapac’s body through the smoke and haze. If he remained so close to the Stone for that blast, there was no way he could have survived.

Hearing Sliske stirring beside him, Jahaan wasted no time, swinging back around and catching the Mahjarrat’s temple with his elbow.

Grunting, Sliske dodged the next attack by teleporting out into the middle of the ruined cavern, stumbling upon his landing. Clutching the side of his head, he growled, “You really are giving me mixed messages here, World Guardian.”

Getting back up to his feet, Jahaan drew both of his swords and declared, “This ends tonight, Sliske.”

Sliske laughed. “Even the World Guardian isn’t above a good cliche, I see. But you should have escaped with the others, Jahaan. Now…” he summoned the Staff of Armadyl back to his gloves hands. “Now I shall collect what I am owed. Wights!”

Raising the Staff aloft, Sliske brought forth the six Barrows Brothers to his aid, the wights that had once fought alongside Jahaan at the Mahjarrat Ritual now stood opposing him. The six against one advantage did not swing in Jahaan’s favour. Thankfully, Sliske seemed like he was going to sit back and enjoy the show, so Jahaan had more breathing room to deal with these undead foes first.

“Debilitate him,” Sliske commanded. “I need him alive for the transfer.”

Upon the order, the Brothers started to advance on Jahaan.

The good thing about the wights was that - unless specifically commanded - they did not run, thus they could be out maneuvered fairly easily if Jahaan kept on his feet.

With Sliske’s order to debilitate him, not kill him, the World Guardian felt a little more confident about his chances. Still, these wights could make a mistake and take his head off, if he wasn’t careful enough. With that in mind, Karil had to be taken out first. If a stray bolt caught Jahaan in the side of his head, it was lights out for good.

Sheathing his swords, Jahaan ran to the other side of the chamber and ducked behind a pile of debris to summon up his first spell, a simple air blast. Jahaan wanted to save his ancient magick spells for Sliske - an unwelcome surprise for the Mahjarrat.

Peeking over, he locked sight of Karil, making sure to pick him out from the cluster of brothers. As he did, two bolts whirled over his head, slightly too close for comfort. Crouching back down, Jahaan readied the spell. Once he’d gathered enough energy, he peered back over and shot the barrage at Karil, catching him square in the chest.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was a start.

The Brothers were gaining on him now, forcing Jahaan to relocate behind a broken statue, dodging Ahrim’s magic attacks as he did. When the World Guardian edged out of cover to survey his next move, a bolt caught the side of Jahaan’s arm, ricocheting off the sturdy elder rune protection.

That’s when he saw Kerapac’s body lying close to him, and an idea came to mind.

Jahaan knew he could tank a few of Ahrim’s attacks - the armour managed to survive one of Zemouregal’s spells, so it could take whatever the wight threw at him.

What Jahaan needed to do was catch Karil as he was reloading. About seven more shots, if he counted correctly. To do that, he needed to use himself as bait, but he’d need a shield if this was going to work properly, something to protect his head. Unfortunately, Jahaan hadn’t come equipped with one, but the armour Kerapac was wearing would do the trick nicely. Quickly, Jahaan hopped out from behind cover, praying Karil wouldn’t get lucky this time, and dragged the corpse back behind the pillar with him. Swiftly, he removed Kerapac’s armour, held it to the side of his head, and hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

Running out from cover, Jahaan sprinted across the chamber towards the opposite corner, and not a moment too soon as the Brother’s were almost on top of him at this point. Ahrim got a few good strikes in, slowing Jahaan down a touch as he absorbed the impact, but nothing too wounding. As soon as Jahaan saw the first bolt shoot past him, he began readying a spell, and counted.

Another bolt, and another. Jahaan didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this cat and mouse strategy before something gave out, but knowing it was the best strategy he had so far, Jahaan held out for as long as possible.

Another bolt, this time catching the edge of his leg armour. Another one, just missing his arm.

Just one more left…

As soon as Jahaan heard that last bolt whiz by, he dropped the make-shift shield and fired a relentless barrage attack against Karil. Fortunately, it paid off, the wight collapsing to the ground and disappearing in a dust cloud.

“Hahaha! Congratulations, Janny!” Sliske announced with a sharp clap. “One down, five to go.”

Ahrim was more of an annoyance than a threat, but there was a risk that his strikes would gradually degrade Jahaan’s armour, making it more vulnerable in the process. So, Jahaan decided to take him out of the equation next. Dashing straight for him, Jahaan tanked a handful of magic spells, managed to weave out of the way of the melee-attacking Brothers, and unsheathed his sword seconds before he plunged the blade straight through Ahrim’s heart. The Brother crumbled to dust the second Jahaan removed his sword, freeing the blade just in time to block an attack from Guthan’s spear.

The hardest part was needing to separate the Brothers; Jahaan knew he couldn’t fight four wights at once. Even the greatest swordsman in the land would have had a hard time, considering the Barrows Brothers were incredibly strong and proficient warriors, even in their undead states. While wights were slower on the uptake than their living counterparts, they made up for it with durability - you cut a man’s arm off, it’ll give him pause, but do it to a wight, he won’t even notice.

So, Jahaan took to sending targeted air strikes at their feet and ankles. There was no sense bombarding them in the stomach or chest. Jahaan knew he wouldn’t be able to cast powerfully enough or quickly enough to do any lasting damage. But by targeting the legs, it slowed them down further, sometimes causing them to clatter to the ground. With this careful strategy, Jahaan gradually separated the Brothers out into something much more manageable to deal with.

And all the while, Sliske observed the battle like a hawk watching its prey. But if Jahaan squinted enough, he noticed that Sliske’s face looked thinner.

Of course! He didn’t attend the Ritual, and without the Stone supplementing his life force…

Jahaan didn’t let himself get too excited - Sliske at his weakest was still stronger than Jahaan could ever be. But anything to slightly level the playing field was a godsend.

Verac’s attacks were fast and fairly accurate. The only slight weakness was when he had to pull the flail back around after each swing, but even this barely took any time at all. Sometimes he would even incorporate it into an attack, relentlessly gaining on Jahaan as he forced the World Guardian to hop backwards to avoid being hit. Jahaan knew enough about flails to know that they bested swords almost every time. You can’t block an attack from a flail head on, and if the chain wraps itself around the sword, you’d find yourself disarmed more often than not, having the blades wrenched out of your grasp.

So, Jahaan let Verac advance on him, trying to identify a pattern in his movements to calculate the best time to counter. But while this worked for the first few attacks, Jahaan unfortunately misjudged the distance during one strike.

When the flail swung forwards, the mace slashed towards the side of Jahaan’s head. He turned as much as he could, folding himself over to avoid the impact, but one of the spikes caught the skin against Jahaan’s temple.

As blood gushed from the wound, Jahaan started regretting not wearing a helmet. It was a risk, leaving your head exposed like that, but Jahaan had never managed to get along with them. His vision would be partially obscured, and distance couldn’t be judged, so he couldn’t fight half as well while wearing one. But the downside of that, of course, was leaving the most fragile and vulnerable piece of the body as a big, shiny target.

In Jahaan’s dazed state, he could have sworn he heard the scolding voice of Sliske reiterate that the World Guardian was to be taken alive, not dead.

Scrambling to get away from Verac, Jahaan moved his attention to Torag, who was quickly gaining on him. Unfortunately, the blow to his head had knocked him for six and he wasn’t able to dodge Torag’s attack in time. Jahaan stumbled backwards and fell to the ground as one of the hammers knocked him square in the chest. Coughing furiously, the winded World Guardian gasped for air, just managing to roll out of the way as he saw the other hammer set to smash down onto his torso. After Sliske’s assault, Jahaan knew his ribs were always going to be a weakness, but thankfully they didn’t feel broken or shattered.

Once he got to his feet and recuperated enough to see without blurred vision, Jahaan realised Dharok was also upon him, alongside Torag. The simultaneous attack from one of Torag’s hammers and Dharok’s greataxe was blocked by each of Jahaan’s swords, but it was a strain, especially in his weakened left arm. Slipping to the side, Jahaan used Dharok’s own strength and momentum against him, forcing him to stumble forwards. At the same time, Jahaan swung his second sword around, aiming for the unarmoured flesh around Torag’s elbow.

The sickening squelch as the blade sliced through undead flesh signalled he’d hit the target, followed by the dull thump of a hammer clattering to the floor, Torag’s severed hand still firmly wrapped around the handle.

Jumping backwards, Jahaan sought to gain some distance from the reoriented Dharok and the one-armed Torag, who didn’t even notice he was now missing a limb.

Sheathing his swords, Jahaan conjured up another series of air spells. The Brothers had congregated together again, threatening to overwhelm the World Guardian with their offence. Targeting the legs was a fairly easy way to slow them down, and Jahaan’s accuracy was pretty decent. Practice had really paid off, allowing Jahaan to hit the mark nine times out of ten. In fact, Jahaan got exceedingly lucky when aiming an air blast at Verac’s leg, missing the shin but catching him in the kneecap, shattering part of the join off. Verac tumbled to the ground and didn’t seem to be able to get back up again, much to Jahaan’s delight. As the World Guardian had found out personally, Verac’s flail was a huge threat. Now, that particular Brother could be easily culled at any time.

Now that the Brother’s had been effectively separated, Jahaan went to challenge Guthan first, nimbly dodging out of the way as the Brother tried to pierce the spearhead through his armoured stomach. As Jahaan went to counter, Guthan braced the spear to block the double strike from Jahaan’s swords, but instead of stopping the attack, Jahaan’s blades cut straight through the wooden shaft of the spear. The action surprised Jahaan a lot more than it did the wight, but the World Guardian recovered his wits quick enough to capitalise, pushing Guthan back with a kick to his gut and then finishing him off with a decapitating strike.

Dharok and Jahaan parried for a while, the Brother being rather quick with his reflexes, despite having such a large weapon. Jahaan knew to not give him enough room to properly swing the axe, keeping in close quarters with the Brother to restrict his movement. It paid off before long; learning from his fight with Guthan, Jahaan cut the greataxe’s handle in two before stabbing Dharok through the heart, the Brother’s armour no match against the razor-sharp elder rune blades.

The one-armed Torag wasn’t too great of a struggle either - it didn’t take much to outmaneuver him and take off his second arm, leaving him vulnerable to decapitation.

Panting for breath, Jahaan sheathed one of his swords, feeling the sweat pooling up in his gloves. He wiped away the beads coating his forehead.

Looking up at Sliske, he ambled over to Verac and drove the blade through the top of the crawling wight’s skull. “Now can we finish this?”

A sneer tugged at the corner of Sliske’s thin lips. “Not bad, World Guardian. I dare say I’m impressed. But I’m afraid I have one more ace up my sleeve…”

With a wave of the Mahjarrat’s hand, a cloud of smoke and shadow manifested in the centre of the chamber.

When it receded, Ozan was standing there.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[thevoilinauttheory]

Music Profile

Rules: For many of us, music is a source of inspiration for our characters, so I want to know what songs inspire and/relate to your muse! Choose between 10-15 songs, compile them into an album and tag some friends to share the beat!

As tagged by @lukawarrioroflight​ so very, very, very long ago. You made me do a bad thing - which was spend at least 3 hours compiling a list of 10 songs for each of the characters I roleplay the most. M’nhea’s will come first - since I haven’t thought too much about songs for him - and all the others (Maximiloix, Danny, and Amosis) will be listed under the cut. These songs aren’t in a specific order~ 

I’m going to pick up the tags again for once, so I’m tagging: @renofmanyalts​, @jasleh​, @amdapori​, @prodigalsong​, @spotofmummery​, @journeybetweenworlds​, @astralyehga​, @houserosaire​, @cadrenebula​, @ever-searching​, @munchix-home-cooking​, @egrine​

M’nhea Tia:

Silhouettes - Of Monsters and Men

There's nothing that I'd take back But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret Cause when I sing, you shout I breathe out loud You bleed, we crawl like animals But when it's over, I'm still awake

Coming of Age - Foster the People

When my fear pulls me out to sea And the stars are hidden by my pride and my enemies I seem to hurt the people that care the most Just like an animal, I protect my pride When I'm too bruised to fight And even when I'm wrong, I tend to think I'm right

RUNAWAY - half.alive

I hold my life out in front of me, dreams of who I want to be I'm seeing every empty page But I find that everything I am is everything I should be I don't need to run away I don't need to run away Yeah I don't need to run away

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

Hey young blood Doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix Wearing our vintage misery No, I think it looked a little better on me I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix

Knights of Cydonia - Muse

No one's gonna take me alive The time has come to make things right You and I must fight for our rights You and I must fight to survive

It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy - Passion Pit

It's not right, it's not right How am I the only one who sees us fight? What are we? Who are they? Who says those bastards don't deserve to pay? Well it's enough, it's just enough 'cause we don't stand a chance So long you stay around, you're just another song and dance It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair Still I'm the only one who seems to care

Hunger - Of Monsters and Men

Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you Voices disappear when you are speaking, in somber tunes I will be the wolf and when you're starving, you'll need it too Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you It isn't you, it isn't

The Best - AWOLNATION

I'm hardly perfect I'm barely good Just shy of greatness Ah-ah I'm heavy metal And hollow wood Just shy of patience Ah-ah

Titanium - David Guetta, ft. Sia

Cut me down, but it's you who'll have further to fall Ghost town and haunted love Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones I'm talking loud, not saying much

I Just Wanna Shine - Fitz & The Tantrums

So I wake up I get out of bed, and stay up Stay out of my head 'Cause it's dangerous And I don't wanna lose my mind, no

Maximiloix:

Warrant - Foster the People

Fear is like a fake friend It warms you up and takes you in You mouth the words but no sound comes out Fear is like your best friend Manipulates and takes you in You mouth the words No sound again

Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine What a lovely time That it would surely be So bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

Punching in a Dream - The Naked and Famous

All the lights go down as I crawl into the spaces Fight, flight, or the screams, life tearing at the seams Wait, I don't ever want to be here Like punching in a dream, breathing life into my nightmare

I Am a Nightmare - Brand New

So come shake your Zen out And give me pure energy My heart is glowing fluorescent, I want you to possess it I’m not a prophecy come true I’ve just been goddamn mean to you So what is this thing laced with Please, don't replace me I surrender, embrace me Whatever I'm faced with

Crystals - Of Monsters and Men

I know I'll wither so peel away the bark 'Cause nothing grows when it is dark In spite of all my fears, I can see it all so clear I see it all so clear

Crown of Love - Arcade Fire

They say it fades if you let it Love was made to forget it I carved your name across my eyelids You pray for rain, I pray for blindness

Thank God I’m Not You - Himalayas

You could call me narcissistic You could say I'm of no worth You could call me the scorn of Satan But I could be so much worse

To My Enemies - Saint Motel

You know that talk is cheap Keep talkin' as I turn my cheek You know that no one really cares (Did you know that, did you know that?) It wasn't that long ago You wanted to slit my throat To find out if my blood bleeds blue (Did you know that, did you know that?)

An Honest Mistake - The Bravery

Sometimes I forget I'm still awake I fuck up and say these things out loud My old friend... I swear I never meant for this I never meant...

Forgive Me Friend - Smith & Thell

'Cause I fell in the hole, in the hole, in the hole My heart was turning cold, turning cold, turning cold I never wanted this to end, can you forgive me friend?

Danny:

Upside Down & Inside Out - OK Go

I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break So when you met the new you Were you scared? Were you cold? Were you kind? Yeah when you met the new you Did someone die inside?

Houdini - Foster the People

Got shackles on, my words are tied Fear can make you compromise With the lights turned up, it's hard to hide Sometimes I wanna disappear

Dance Dance Dance - 65daysofstatic

[Instrumental]

Cradles - Sub Urban

Tape my eyes open to force reality (Oh no, no) Why can’t you just let me eat my weight in glee? I live inside my own world of make-believe Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities Some days I feel skinnier than all the other days Sometimes I can't tell if my body belongs to me

Fire - Barnes Courtney

Oh, a thousand faces staring at me Thousand times I've fallen Thousand voices dead at my feet Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone

Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron

I have seen what the darkness does Say goodbye to who I was I ain't never been away so long Don't look back, them days are gone Follow me into the endless night I can bring your fears to life Show me yours and I'll show you mine Meet me in the woods tonight

Simmer - Hayley Williams

Control There's so many ways to give in Eyes closed Another way to make it to ten Oh, how to draw the line between wrath and mercy? Gotta simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer down

Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second - STRFKR

All my life There you go Oh please stay Just this once Anyway

Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant

Funny how it seems like yesterday As I recall you were looking out of place Gathered up your things and slipped away No time at all I followed you into the hall Cigarette daydream You were only seventeen So sweet with a mean streak Nearly brought me to my knees

In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier

The creature lunged I turned and ran To save a life I didn't have Dear, in the chase There as I flew Forgot all prayers Of joining you

Amosis:

Vy från ett luftslott - Kent

Där missilerna möts De viskar: hålen i himlen ska bli våran död Ovanför molnen Där djävulen bor De viskar: hålen i himlen är från hans klor

//

Where the missiles meet They whisper: the holes in the heavens will be our death Above the clouds Where the devil lives They whisper: the holes in the heavens are from his claws

Panic Station - Muse

Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And this chaos, it defies imagination Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives And I know that you will fight for the duration Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And you know I'm not resisting your temptations Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives You've arrived at panic station

Destruction - Joywave

I wanna know who you told 'til they're all laying on the floor Frozen to the core I wanna know who you told 'til it's nobody anymore Nobody anymore

Little Dark Age - MGMT

I grieve in stereo The stereo sounds strange You know that if it hides It doesn't go away If I get out of bed You'll see me standing all alone Horrified On the stage My little dark age

The Wolf - SIAMÉS

I’m out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause you can run but you can’t hide I’m gonna make you mine Out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause I can feel how your flesh now Is crying out for more

It Doesn’t Matter Why - Silversun Pickups

You hear us come and go, we know You wonder if we're not alone, we're alone You think about us all the time, don't Because it doesn't matter why we're known We're just known, we're just known

Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club

He sleeps alone He needs no army where he's headed cause he knows That they're just ghosts And they can't hurt him if he can't see them, ohh And I may go To places I have never been to just to find The deepest desires in my mind

still.feel - half.alive

So when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb Drifting as I dream, but I'll wake up soon To realize the hand of life is reaching out To rid me of my pride I call allegiance to myself

Iron - Woodkid

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't remind your eyes, your face

Content - Joywave

I'm searching for the difference between What content and content can bring Maybe they're no different 'cause they look the same (They look the same) Maybe I'm just an algorithm with a given name (A given name) But... trying to find the difference The difference, the difference, the difference

[fireteam-dauntless]

A Tale of Two Guardians XIX

Part 1 of the Destined Series. Chapter 19 : Secret Escape masterlist

word count : 3.3K tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @basically-nacl @shins-wife

When I woke the next morning, the sun was barely shining over the city’s skyline.  My bedroom was filled with a gentle glow of the rising sun.  I yawned aloud and stretched my arms over my head.

“Good morning, peu de lumière,” I said and my Ghost came flying into the room and hovered in front of my face.

“Good morning, Genesis, I already started your coffee,” she said.

I smiled and gently rubbed the top of her shell.  “Thank you,” I said and stood up.  “Any messages overnight?” I asked.

“Well…” she paused a moment and followed me into the kitchen.  “There’s a message from Ikora, approving your trip for the next few days.  There’s a notice from the postmaster that your mission report was delivered last night.  And a message from Maverick about an hour ago… he’s going to stop by around 7 this morning to pick you up for your trip.  And that’s about it.”

“Thank you,” I said as I picked up my mug and sat down at the kitchen table.  I sipped on my coffee and read the morning news for the City.  Shortly after I finished my cup I stood and started to get ready.  It was right around 6:30, so Maverick was going to be here soon.  I pulled on the leggings and skin tight shirt that I wore under my armor when there was a knock at the door.  “Peu de lumière, I’m sure that’s Maverick, can you let him in and tell him I’ll be down momentarily.”

“Okay,”  she said then flew downstairs.  I pulled on a different set of armor from yesterday, since that armor still smelled like Hive.  I pulled on my Apex Harmonic set, but settled for my Sunbracers instead of the normal gauntlets.  I heard Maverick coming upstairs, and my Ghost screaming after him.  

“C’est d’accord, peu de lumière, je suis vêtu*,”  I reassured, and turned to Maverick when he stood in my bedroom door.  “You really should listen to my Ghost, Mav.  Usually her words are coming straight from me.”

Maverick leaned against the door frame and shrugged.  “Eh, where’s the fun in that?  Besides, I like catching you off guard.  You get all flushed and adorable.”

I looked away immediately to hide my face.  That alone made my cheeks warm and a smile come to my lips.  I took a deep breath and continued to collect myself.  “So, what’s the plan Maverick?  Or is everything about this trip to Venus going to be a surprise?”

“What, surprises are nice, right?”

“Most definitely, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on.”

He sighed and caved.  “Alright, I’m taking you to a place not much of the Vanguard knows about.  Only Cayde knows I go there.  But that’s all I can tell you.”

I chuckled and slung my sniper over my shoulder, holstered my hand cannon, and slid my sword into place on my back.  “When do we fly out?”

“We can head out whenever you’re ready.  My ship’s waiting in orbit.”

I turned and smiled at him.  “You had everything planned, didn’t you?”

The red glow behind his mouth glowed brighter, a sign that he was smiling.  “Maybe.”

I smiled and stood across from him.  “Did you go to your debriefing with Zavala?  You have to go before we leave.”

Maverick groaned and covered my mouth.  “Don’t talk about it.  The longer I can keep Mister Blue waiting, the better.  It’s hilarious when he gets frustrated, because then he just gives you the short version and leaves you alone.”

I laughed and pushed his hand away.  “Alright, fine.  I’m ready to go, if you are.”

“Good.”  He handed me a small electronic card with the transmat link codes for his ship.  “Give that to your Ghost.  I’ll see you up there.”  Then he pulled out his Ghost, and disappeared from my house.

“Genesis?”  My Ghost came and hovered in front of my face.  “Are you alright.”

I didn’t realize until now that I was blushing like a maniac and I felt frozen in place.  “Fuck, I must be crazy, but it feels like he just gets hotter and hotter every time I see him.”

“You’re insane and should probably start seeing a doctor.”

I laughed and gave the transmat codes to my Ghost then gently rubbed her shell.  “Oh, peu de lumière, that’s why I have you.”

My Ghost sighed and transmatted me up to Maverick’s ship.  I walked from the bay to the cockpit, and took a seat in the co-pilot chair.

I didn’t have my helmet on yet when I sat down next to Maverick, so when I turned I caught him staring at me.  “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly and turned away.  “Just taking a moment to admire you.  Can’t help it sometimes.”

My cheeks flushed, once again, and I smiled, but kept quiet.  I pulled on my helmet and took hold of the co-pilot controls.  “I can’t help but think of you, too.  Your eyes… they’re haunting and yet… magnificent…” 

I looked over at him as he set a course for Venus, and he looked at me.  “Is that all?”

“Oh, of course not, but I’m not going to hopelessly embarrass myself by turning into a blushing mess.”

He laughed loudly and turned back to the front as we slid into slip space.  “Oh that would be a sight to see.”

I was already a blushing mess beneath my helmet.  We flew to Venus in under an hour, and when we landed, Maverick summoned his Sparrow and looked at me.  “Hop on,” he said.

I looked at him in disbelief.  “Are you serious?” I asked him.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?”  He looked back at me as he took a seat.  “Hop on.”

I crossed my arms and stared at him, wondering if I should.  Not only was it a dangerous risk since most sparrows weren’t equipped to carry two passengers, but it was raining, though that wasn’t uncommon for Venus.

“Don’t do it,” my Ghost said.  “Don’t get in over your head.”

“I was in over my head when I gave you those transmat codes,” I said to her, dropped my arms, and sat behind Maverick on the Sparrow.  I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, and he took off towards the Academy.  It was rare that I got to view Venus like this, so I leaned my head on his back and gazed out over the landscape.  Venus was beautiful.  The Ishtar Academy was a sight to see too, and whenever I had a chance, I occasionally snagged a book from the Library and brought it home to read.  We passed by the Shattered Coast and were riding along the Cliffs when Maverick slowed to a stop.  

“See over there? The volcanoes?” He asked, and pointed out towards the volcanoes with blue lava that crept over the sides and down the hills.

“Yeah?”

“I know a place where we can get closer.  You in?”

“Of course!”

He chuckled and pulled off towards the Waking Ruins.  We passed by some Vex on the way and easily avoided their fire, but for fun and games I tossed a fusion grenade at a Minotaur, and it stuck right on its eye.  I laughed aloud and wrapped my arms tight around Maverick again.  He drove us all the way through Campus 9.

“Where are we going?”  I asked.

“You’ll see,  just hang on, it’s gonna get rough pretty soon.”

I nodded and hugged him tighter.  We drove past the Endless Steps, past anywhere on any Vanguard map.  The road definitely did get bumpy, but his sparrow was so stable and secure I wasn’t even scared of being thrown off.  He slowed down right before we reached a cliff and took a sharp left turn, scattering some rocks over the edge of the cliff.

“Whoa!” I shouted and hugged tightly onto Maverick.

“Hold on, we’re almost there,” he assured me, he let go of one of the throttles and squeezed my hand before pulling us ahead.  He drove us down a narrow path down the side of the cliff, and finally, to this little base in front of a cave that had the perfect view of the volcanoes.  Maverick stopped driving and sat up, prompting me to let him go.  He stood off of the Sparrow, then held a hand out for me.  I took his hand and stood, and shortly after my feet were planted on the ground, his Sparrow disappeared.  I looked around and walked forward a bit.  This little place was so secluded, no one would find it unless they knew where they were going.

“How did you find this place?” I asked and turned to Maverick.  The cave was covered by wood panels, surely ones that he built, making a door and protecting the inside from the weather.

“I kind of did the same thing you did after my fireteam was killed.  I ran away from the Vanguard for a while.  And I found this place.”  He crossed his arms and looked out over the land, gazing at the volcanoes that spat out their blue lava.  I went and stood next to him, and gently laced my arm with his.  “C’mon, I’ll take you inside.  I had my Ghost set wards so that you can take your helmet off and breathe comfortably inside.”

Maverick led me inside and closed the door behind him.  It was dark, but he walked around and lit small lanterns that were inside.  The room filled with a warm golden glow.  

“You made this all yourself?” I asked and looked around.  There was a cot and a table with two chairs, but not much else.  “It’s… it’s almost homey.  The seclusion…”

“I know,”  he said.  “I needed it at the time.  And now it’s a good place to get away to when the Vanguard is trying to get on my ass.”  

I laughed softly and nodded.  “I get that.  I always go to France or Venus.  Either one is good enough for me.  But Venus always holds a special place in my heart.”

Maverick nodded and pulled off his helmet, and I pulled off mine.  I took a seat on one of the chairs, and Maverick sat across from me.  “Okay,”  I said and looked over at Maverick.  “I have to ask.  What Sparrow do you have?  I mean, it had no problem carrying two passengers and didn’t even lose any speed.”

“Timebreaker,”  he said, nonchalant.  “Found the schematic for it in the Vault of Glass.  Best Sparrow I’ve ever had Amanda build for me.”

“Can I have it?”  I asked jokingly.

“Ha!  Over my dead body.”

I laughed and stood, and walked over to the cot and collapsed down on top of it.  I studied the stone ceilings.  “You know… I could paint a mural of our meeting on this ceiling.”  I waved Maverick over; he walked over to me and laid down beside me on the cot.  I started pointing out different areas of the ceiling.  “The Vault over here…  then we would be over here, maybe side by side fighting that Minotaur right over… there.”  I looked over at him expectantly, a wide and excited smile on my lips.

Maverick was quiet for a moment, then turned his head and met my gaze.  “Or you could do something a little more abstract.  Just you and me, no battles needed.”

“Why?”

He paused a moment before responding.  “This is a place I go to in order to get away from fighting and battlefields, to clear my head.”

“Ah, I see.”  I drummed my fingers on my stomach and chewed the inside of my cheek.  “Well… I could draw somethings up.  Might take me awhile.  Abstract isn’t really my expertise.”

“I’d love to see what you come up with.”

Silence fell between us.  Maverick and I were laying side by side.  After a few moments of silence.  I rolled on my side and nestled against him, resting my head on his arm.  He responded by turning on his side and he pulled my body close to him.  We cuddled in silence, my head tucked against his chest, his hand gently yet firmly placed on my waist.  I yawned and nestled against him.

“Are you tired?”  He asked quietly.  I gave him a small nod.  “Go ahead and rest.  That’s the point of this little getaway.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?  I would hate to fall asleep in case anything happens.  I'm only tired because I stayed up most of the night painting…”

His mouth pressed against my forehead and I felt a small spark scatter across my skin.  I shivered and he pulled me closer.  “Go to sleep, Genny,” he said.  “We’ll be just fine.”

I sighed and nodded.  I started to slip off into sleep, but was disturbed when Maverick started moving.  I grabbed onto his armor because I thought he was going to leave, and I heard him chuckle quietly, then pulled a blanket over the two of us.  “Shh…  I’m not going anywhere.  It just gets chilly when night falls on Venus.”

“I know…” I mumbled and nestled closer to his chest.  The blanket was warm, heavy, and a comforting feeling.

His fingers traced the outline of my face and I couldn’t help the gentle smile that came to my lips.  “You… you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Genny,”  Maverick said quietly.

I opened my eyes a bit and looked up at him.  There was a smile on my lips but I felt loopy and overjoyed at the same time.  “Really?” I asked.

He smiled and gently cupped my cheek in his hand.  “Truly.”

My smile grew warmer.  “And you are the best thing that's happened to me, Maverick.  Mon amour.”  

“Moan-a… what?”

I giggled like a giddy child being handed a new toy.  “Mon amour… It means ‘my love’.”

He gazed down at me and sighed softly.  “My love… that’s a title I’m going to have to get used to.”  His thumb traced along my cheekbone.  “Still… I think it’s the only title I’m willing to have.”

“Oh?”  I asked curiously.  “What other fancy titles does the mysterious Maverick-7 have?”  His expression changed quickly, almost like he was closing off.  My eyes widened and I held his face in my hands.  “No, no, no, I’m sorry I asked!  I can tell you don’t want to talk about it so I won’t ask, I meant it only as I joke I swear!  Oh mon dieu je vous ai contrarié s'il vous plaît ne pensez pas à ce sujet, oubliez j'ai demandé!**”

“Genesis, Genny!”  Maverick snapped and held my face in his hands.  I stared at him with wide eyes still, but I stopped talking.  “It’s okay.  It’s just not something I like to think about.  It’s not your fault.”

I took a few deep breaths, but I could feel my cheeks flushing.  “Sorry…  I didn’t mean to pry… mmph!”  I could have continued apologizing, but Maverick pressed his mouth against mine in a kiss before I could speak.  I longed for this more than anything, but man, did it get more intense every time.  I pressed closer up against him and Maverick wrapped his arms tightly around me.  I know it was crazy, considering our differences, but the kisses I shared with Maverick were different and much more intense than any I have distant memory of kissing men from my previous life.  They were electric, hot, and made my skin tingle and my face heat.  

When we finally separated, Maverick had pulled me so close his hand was on the back of my thighs and my leg was pulled over his.  We were pressed so close to each other.  I looked at him and his eyes finally flickered open.  

“Mav…” I whispered quietly, my voice airy and almost raspy.  I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I didn’t even get a chance to say.

“I know,” he mumbled back.  He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, I braced my hand on the pillow by his head.

Genesis…  My Ghost was speaking to me in the back of my head.  Be careful now.  Don’t do anything stupid.

My Ghost was right this time.  Things were getting hot, and I don’t think either of us could afford for the Vanguard to even get a whiff of a rumor of what could happen if we continued.  I leaned down and kissed Maverick again, and then lowered myself onto his chest.  He laced his hands in my hair and played with my silver locks.  I cuddled against his chest and closed my eyes.  I fell asleep to the gentle motions of his hands running through my hair.

I woke up to an empty bed.  I yawned and sat up, and looked around.  “Mav...?”  I said softly.  I pulled the blanket aside and stood.  Out of normal anxiety, I grabbed a hold of my sword and looked around.  “Mav, are you there?”  

“Out here!”  Maverick shouted.  I lowered my weapon and pushed the door open.  He was sitting outside against the wall.  I grabbed my helmet and pulled it on, and then went and sat outside beside him.  

“Everything okay?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.  I just don’t sleep often.” 

“I understand.  I know I usually require it, but I think the longest I’ve gone without sleep was…”

“Eleven days,” my Ghost piped in.

“Yeah, eleven days.  Not the best idea, but I just… wasn’t tired.”

“Let me guess…”  Maverick started to ponder.  “It was shortly after your Ghost woke you up?”

I nodded and smiled.  “Yeah.  Something like that.  I never really felt tired after that.  Now that I’m acclimated, I can sleep just fine.”

“Well… you know, I’m an Exo, so technically I don’t need sleep.  Do I still sleep? On occasion, yes.  I do.  But it’s rare and hard for me to even begin to try to sleep.”

I folded my legs to the side and leaned beside him.  “Well… if you ever need to sleep, I’m always here to keep you company.”

“Thank you, Angel,” Maverick said quietly.

I perked up and looked at him curiously.  “Angel?  Where did that come from?”

He looked over at me, a gentle look in his eyes.  “When we first met, when you were in your Radiance… well, you left an impression, to say the least.  You looked like an angel.”

I was blushing as he explained his reasoning.  “Mon chérie,” I murmured softly.

“And what does that mean?”

“My sweetheart.”

His gaze softened and wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him.  “How do you say ‘my angel’ in French, I’m curious.”

I smiled.  “Mon ange.”

“Mon ange…  I like that, but I think I’ll stick with Angel.”

I nodded and cuddled against his side.  “Alright.”

We stayed sitting outside that cave and watched the volcanoes spit their blue lava and watched the sky turn from yellow and sunny to blue and covered with clouds.  Venus was our safe place, somewhere we could get away from the Vanguard and the regulations.  We spent the next two days in each other’s company.  I drew up a few sketches for Maverick concerning the mural for the roof of the cave.  He liked all of them, so he wanted me to decide which one got the pick of them all.  I chose the sketch of the galaxies and stars, with constellations of a Stormcaller and a Sunbreaker etched into the mix.  I kept another sketch for a painting I could do back home of the two of us.  A Sunbreaker and a Sunsinger.  Maverick with his hammers, me with my grenades.  

But like all good things, they ended too soon and before I knew it, we were flying back to the Tower.

--- translations ---

* “It’s okay, little light, I am dressed.” ** “Oh god I have upset you please do not think about it, forget I asked!”

[cyclone-rachel]

rest your soul and feed your brain

part 3: on AO3 here

~

The camera turns on, showing Winn- just Winn, for once. He’s staring at where the audience would be, with an expression in his eyes that could be considered haunted, or perhaps bewildered. His eyes are wide, certainly, and he’s leaning slightly over the desk, hands out in front of him, held in a sort of tented position. He seems to be waiting for someone, his lips pursed, and he stands and looks at someone slightly off to the side.

“James? Are you getting this?” he asks.

James nods, and focuses the camera on him closer, as Winn sits down again.

His voice is hushed, as he continues.

“Hey. Okay, so… I probably shouldn’t be doing this. If he finds out, he might kill me, and get James to take over for me- even though all the comments talk about how funny I am, or how much I do my research. Well, actually, they give me long lists of nitpicks and corrections on the subject of my research, and they say how funny it is when I scream, or make dirty jokes. Even though me screaming is completely normal for the kind of thing I’m doing here, and I actually don’t make that many dirty jokes. They’re not that dirty anyway. Whatever.

The point is… this is about… I’m investigating Brainy. My partner- not that way. Even though he is cute, and I am very bisexual. He’s like a young Keanu Reeves, in how he looks- it’s actually kind of freaky, looking at them side by side. But in a nice way. Anyhow, you already know what he looks like, because we’re friends, and we do this show every week for you guys.”

Winn pauses, looking up at James, expression cautious. He turns back to the camera.

“I might not actually release this. Or it could go up on our Patreon page, and I would just have to make sure he doesn’t see it, or put it under an unassuming title so he doesn’t suspect anything and doesn’t want to click on it. He already doesn’t check anything on our computer anyway, I’ve never seen him use it, but somehow he still knows all the statistics of our videos, so I feel like I could get away with that. Maybe something about sex tapes, it’s really funny the reaction that gets whenever I bring them up. Anyway. If I do release this, it’s going to be because I feel like you all should know something about Brainy. Something I want to say I’ve suspected all along, given how much I already liked researching this kind of stuff, but embarrassingly enough, I’ve only started putting the pieces together recently.

Wow, I’m delaying this a lot. I’m sorry- to the audience, and to myself. Maybe I’m not saying it because I don’t feel like I can? Like if I do say it, he’ll hear, and he’ll find me. I don’t think he would hurt me if he found out I was doing this. After all, we are friends. Or at least, I hope we still are. I don’t know. Maybe this is the last recording I’ll ever do, and he’ll find this, and he’ll leave. I… don’t want to lose him, as much of a know-it-all as he is. I’m the believer, I need my skeptic, you know? That’s just how things should be. It’s the natural dynamic, and without it, we’d lose viewers. I would lose viewers. So maybe I won’t put this up online. But if I do, and we keep going… assume he hasn’t found it, or that he’s okay with it.

Maybe I just don’t want to admit it out loud, because it’ll make me sound insane. Like I’m headed for a downward spiral, like my dad- except instead of taking my anger out on the partner who stole my patent, and ending up killing people who weren’t him instead, I’ll be the conspiracy theory guy who got too obsessed with what he was so interested in, and it’ll end up ruining my friendship with… with one of the only people who really knows me well, and gets me. Or at least I thought he did.

Do I hate Brainy, for hiding so much? Am I angry at him, because he keeps so many secrets? I don’t think so. I’m not. I’m just… well, can you blame me for being interested, and maybe a little bit suspicious? That’s the only name he’s ever given me, to tell me to call him. He started emailing me, after I put up the video asking for people to do that if they wanted to host this show with me, and almost too quickly- within the day, actually, once I’d made sure he wasn’t an axe-murderer or any other kind of murderer, like my dad, and that he genuinely wanted to do this with me and didn’t want to make fun of my videos, he was there for the interview. And then he was hired, after I said something about tomatoes being fruits, and he insisted on them being vegetables, and we argued about it for like an hour. Actually fun times, believe it or not.

He’s never told me where he lives, or where he grew up, or how old he is, other than I know that he’s around my age and his birthday is December 30th. I remember because it’s 5 days after mine, and I saw him circle it on the calendar once. I know he was homeschooled, but he never gave any details on that, and for how long he was homeschooled. He doesn’t have any siblings. His parents raised him together until he was eight years old, when they separated and his father raised him. He hasn’t said anything about what happened afterwards, or where his mother went, or anything else about his life- he changes the subject, asking about my family instead, and whenever he’s admitted these things to me he always looks at me like he’s being held at gunpoint while saying them, even though I honestly want to know because he’s just so goddamn mysterious. And you all know how much of a difficult subject my family is for me. But for his credit, he listens, and it’s kind of nice.

Oh god, I’m rambling. But I have a point with this, I promise.

I don’t doubt that Brainy is a good person. I don’t doubt that he likes me- or at least, doesn’t hate me. He hasn’t left me, which is a virtue all on its own, and he listens to me, with- it feels like he understands me, whenever I talk about my parents and describe how their abandonment felt. What it was like to see my dad arrested, to be interrogated about his murder and under constant scrutiny afterwards from my foster families because at any time I could snap and become just like him. How it felt to sit in the police station, waiting for my mother, but she never came back for me.

Maybe this is why I won’t release this video. I’ve only ever told him that, and I’ve tried not to tell anyone that my father is Winslow Schott, the notorious Toyman. I even use my nickname, Winn, and my mom’s maiden name, McGowan, for these videos… but I know I’m still a Schott, and that potential is inside me. Like a ticking time bomb.”

Winn sighs.

“I hope I’m not turning out like him. I want to think I’m using whatever I got from my father for good- though I can’t really tell whether or not this is a good use for the skills I do have. And maybe this, what happens if Brainy finds out, will be the nail in the coffin for me. What sets me down the path to becoming the Toyman, just like my dad.

I don’t want to.

But… if anyone from the future is listening, consider this the secret origin story of… something. The play that was never released, the first edition book that’s different from all the others, the action figure that was recalled for a defect, the hidden Easter egg in a video game or the comic that only ever got one printing or the unaired pilot of a TV show or a movie that never even made it to DVD. I think this metaphor ran away from me. Point is. If you’re seeing this, count yourself lucky, because you’re one of a few- if anyone other than James and I see this at all.”

Winn pauses again, turns to James.

“You’re not gonna leak this on Youtube, are you?”

“No.”

“Good man.” Winn says. “Thank you.”

He turns back to the camera, and continues talking, all the while also continuing to gesture with his hands, as though he were truly in a living, animated conversation with the audience.

“And keep in mind, I don’t say all of this stuff because I want his career to be ruined, or because I’m jealous of him, or anything. I just think he’s so… I’ve already used the words interesting, and suspicious, and mysterious, and cute. He’s all of those things, but he transcends description. He’s a walking enigma, and I wish I were worthy of knowing his secrets.

He’s my friend, and I can’t help noticing things like… well. He always wakes up earlier than I do. That’s probably because I always stay up late. But one time, I woke up first, and saw him get up out of bed. And he… I don’t know how to say this. He touched his face, and it- shifted? And I don’t think it was the light coming in from outside- I swear to you, his face looked blue. All of him did. He touched it again, and he looked like he always does otherwise, but I’ve never forgotten that. It might’ve been an early-morning dream kind of thing, like when you’re half asleep and half-awake. But it felt real.

And then there’s things like what I mentioned before- he always seems to know exactly what our statistics are, even though I’ve never seen him use our computer. Any kind of technical problem, he fixes it- without even moving, or touching it. Most of the time I don’t even have to ask him, he just knows. Knows everything. Comes in real handy, can’t say I’m not grateful, but also…

Oh! Also, one time, I caught him sitting on the roof of our trailer, and when I called his name, he jumped down- but it was slower, somehow, than normal jumping. Like he was kind of… not flying. But hovering, maybe. Or falling with style. But whatever it is, I couldn’t have done it. And I’ve tried to scare him, since then, and make him jump. Hasn’t worked, but I’m gonna keep trying, mark my words.”

“Marking them.” Calls James, and Winn rolls his eyes.

“Anyway. All of these things… and the fact that because he’s only introduced himself by his pretentious nickname, and never given me his real name- God knows I’ve tried to find it- I can’t look him up in any way and verify that he exists- I don’t know how to explain them. I want to- that’s the whole point of this show, solving the unsolvable, explaining the unexplainable, playfully arguing with each other along the way, sometimes scaring the shit out of each other but mostly just enjoying each other’s company. But the two first things are the most important, and how am I supposed to call myself a good solver of mysteries if I can’t come to a solid conclusion on the person who’s probably my best friend? Besides you, James.”

“Thank you.”

“And Kara and Alex, back home. But they’re not gonna see this. Probably. That doesn’t matter. Point is… the whole idea of this long, twisting rant… I have reason to believe that my collaborator, my partner, my friend, Brainy… isn’t human. And I don’t know what he is, exactly, or who he is, or where he’s from. He could be the Mothman. He could be what he calls a Necrofriggian. He could be any of the other cryptids I totally did my research on and didn’t just see while watching shows about them on TV, or reading Wikipedia entries. Or- and this is the most absurd one- he might even be from another planet. Is he an alien, or a cryptid? Or is he just a completely normal guy who’s fucking with me, and I’m the one who’s talking myself in circles over nothing? Whatever the case, it looks like the impenetrable identity of my cohost is, for now, a case that’s going to remain-“

“Winn? Why are you recording an episode without me? What’s this about?”

“Oh shi-“

“James, turn that off, please.”