#pathetic drowned cat of a woman i love her so much

[myxinidaes]

been a while! been busy irl and also not in the best headstate but. A short writeup of what i've been reading/watching/doing.

Watching: Our Flag Means Death, assorted horror movies, Adventure time.

OFMD season 2 has been tons of fun so far! I've been watching with a friend at my place and we get to harass the orange cat while we watch. He loves attention so he doesn't mind (much). Can we talk abt the bell scene, though? hot damn. awakened things in me.

Horror movies watched have been: Barbarian (spooky but I think more disgusting/sad/pathetic than truly scary), Pet Sematary (halfway through, p spooky!), Jennifer's Body (not scary, very fun), IT (rewatch, still a solid time), Malignant (partway through, a fun time), Repo! (fun! very fun!), and probably more? there have been a Lot of horror movies between weekly streams with internet friends and dinner+drink+horror nights with housemates

Somehow I missed the Adventure Time craze as a teen, but i've been enjoying catching up! a fun show to watch when i dont want to think abt anything. The art style seems very uhhhhh inconsistent though? a bit disorienting

Reading: She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan. Hoooly fuck. This book is driving me insane in the absolute best way. I tried reading it last year and fizzled out around the gorge scene even though I was really enjoying it. I've been on a bunch of long bus rides lately, so I picked it up again and truly losing my mind. All of the POVs are so distinct and well-done, the opening scene of the girl stealing her brother's name and the way Zhu Chongba goes on to claim her destiny as well! The gender fuckery! The woman disguised as a male monk meeting the eunuch general! The rage and horror and disgust present in Ouyang's narration, the razorwire cunning and determination of Zhu Chongba's, the complexities of Esen's court!!! And the main romance is absolutely fucking insane. A woman who wants the world at her feet and a wife just trying to survive. Screaming, crying, etc etc etc.

There have been multiple times in the book where I had to pause and lose my mind silently for a few seconds like. WOW. Dearly looking forward to finishing this book and reading He Who Drowned the World. Pictured below, one of my favorite passages.

Other things I've been reading (wip fics):

Tarnished Gold, Scum Villain fic. Absolutely engrossing fic where Shen Yuan transmigrates into Gongyi Xiao instead of Shen Qingqiu. The characterization is beyond top-notch, it's honestly aspirational. The POV is a Luo Binghe fresh from the Abyss and hellbent on causing Gongyi Xiao's complete and utter disgrace. The slow shift from plotting and scheming to a completely in-character Binghe obsession to (eventually) romance? Delightful. So crunchy to read.

Tasting the Outer Road: the Outlaw's Guide to Good Gunsmoke Eating, Trigun Maximum fic. I'm obsessed with everything this author puts out tbh, but a post-Trimax canon fic featuring Knives as a food reviewer and examining consumption, the twins' place in the world, and the harm wrought by Knives is everything I've ever wanted.

Welcome! Everything is Fine. IDW Transformers fic. A Good Place x Transformers mashup... kind of. It's fun! It'll make you laugh! It's got Starscream/Minimus aka the transformers ship of all time!

Listening to: So much. It's been a lot of Hozier lately (concert is less than two weeks away!!), but there was a man at the farmer's market this week singing the Decemberists and that reminded me how much I love them so. shrugs. let's just say i've been rolling around in indie albums.

Working on: Classwork. VW bangfic. I've been busy and I'm very much at the stage in the fic where I'm hating everything I write. But that's fine, the important thing is that it gets written (I say as I contemplate my wip which hasn't had meaningful progress being added for a While now i am so very stuck). My arm's been positively fucked these past few weeks, so I haven't had the opportunity to draw much. Hopefully eventually! I want to do gift art for VWBB friends still, but I'm running out of time.

I've applied to be an officer at a club, curious to see if I get the position. Fingers crossed, I guess? I haven't done IRL leadership stuff in a while, it would be nice to get back into it.

I've been journaling a lot lately, giving it another go after it just made me spiral hard during the early pandemic era. Not sure if it's been helping, but it's definitely better than losing my mind in public on social media? Baby steps.

Final note, very important: Please appreciate the orange cat being harassed.

[ficforce]

Scared

Shinmon Benimaru x F!Reader

SFW

No set timeline

Established relationship

Benimaru had been really off with her lately.

It wasn’t anything obvious, just small subtle changes in the way he looked at her or spoke to her, sometimes he would look like he wanted to say something and then wouldn’t. Usually, if he wanted to tell her something he would just come out and say it.

Y/N brought her chopsticks to her mouth and as she chewed she placed them back to her rice bowl, poking at the contents like she didn’t want to take another bite. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to across the table where her gaze met Benimaru’s, his eyes were narrowed very slightly as he regarded her. Y/N nearly spoke up but the twins chose that moment to start a small fight to her left over the only piece of meat left - she heard Konro sigh on her right and the man leaned in to cut the piece in half for the girls. It was a typical morning for them… one she didn’t want to ruin.

“Y/N, you’re not eating.”

“Does your tummy still hurt?”

Turning her head with a quiet hum, Y/N smiled as two pairs of amber eyes looked up at her in a mixture of curiosity and concern, “I’m a little tired,” she reached over to adjust the yellow band in Hinata’s hair, she then leaned further and did the same for Hikage whilst brushing the rice from around their mouths. “I had two drunken idiots wake me up at three in the morning.”

Konro choked a little on his tea, having the decency to at least look embarrassed, “I wasn’t that bad, Y/N…”

“Konro,” the woman started and pointed her chopsticks at him, “You spent the good part of an hour trying to find the cat… a cat that we don’t even have.” Hearing an amused snort from Benimaru she then looked at him with an exasperated glare, “You climbed onto a set of drawers, giggling like a schoolgirl and meowing when he wasn’t looking.”

It would have been hilarious if she hadn’t been feeling like hell already, she had coaxed them into drinking water and then sent them to bed, which meant helping Benimaru get undressed and to sleep.

“Again?” He didn’t use a tone that was disbelieving but there was some sort of accusation that she couldn’t quite place. Benimaru’s eyes narrowed again, scanning her as if that would answer all of his questions and Y/N made herself busy with tidying the table, “You keep saying you feel sick - did you see the doctor like I said to?”

“You were supposed to come with us.” The Captain murmured into his cup, his head was still aching and the corner of his lips occasionally crept up into a smile; the sake still affecting him. “You were talking about it all week.”

And there it was.

Y/N had been waiting for him to pout about her ditching them last minute. They had planned a night out for weeks, it had taken some effort to convince Konro to let loose too and then a few hours before they were going to leave - she pulled out. “I already told you, I felt like I was going to puke.”

“I went last week…” Y/N said without looking at him, “They said I should just take it easy until it passes.” That wasn’t strictly true and it was why Y/N couldn’t look him in the eye. The news from the doctor had been a shock and she had walked out of the appointment in a daze, barely taking notice of anything - to the point she nearly walked into several people. It was going to change everything, it would ruin their family dynamic. She couldn’t imagine telling them that these breakfasts would never be the same again… that Benimaru would have to get used to going out without her.

Feeling her stomach twist a little she got up with the dishes and headed out before they could notice her eyes starting to water.

Just how was her lover going to take the news?

He already had so much going on; he protected the town, he put their Infernals to rest, he spoke with the families that had lost their loved one, he helped put back together the things he broke and Captained the Hikeshi. It had only been recently that he got the confidence to make more decisions without going to Konro first.

She didn’t want to burden him further.

There was already something bothering him too. Sometimes when they were together he would become stiff, his hand wouldn’t hold hers as tightly and several times he had ditched her. He’d say he had to run an errand that she knew he didn’t have and then leave - specifically telling her to stay behind.

It had gotten worse since she had started to throw up a few weeks prior.

At first, he had looked after her, rubbing her back and bringing her plenty to drink afterwards. The man acted aloof most of the time but she knew he had been worried… Maybe he knew. Maybe he was distancing himself so that he wouldn’t get hurt?

The rest of that morning Y/N went about her few tasks, fighting down nausea and worrying about her relationship. The twins had run out of the guardhouse to play once Y/N had checked they’d brushed their teeth and Konro had come to tell her that Shinra from Company 8 was coming for training. That would certainly keep Benimaru busy and she had no doubt he was thinking of ways to put Shinra on edge.

If Shinra was going then she’d need to get more food from the market, for him and Benimaru, they were going to use up plenty of their energy, physically and pyro-kinetically. Whilst going through a mental shopping list Y/N rounded the corned just as someone else did.

The tension was back in his body, she could feel it in the way his arms stiffened around her; there was a palpable feeling of trepidation rolling off of him, “Beni…?”

Trying to stop suddenly and move, Y/N tripped over her own feet and had to grab the wall to stay upright; Benimaru was a little more aware and twisted himself out of the way elegantly. “Since when were you that clumsy?”

“Shut up, Beni,” she huffed and then smirked at him, “The wall was going to attack you - I saved your life.” He rolled his eyes and barely a moment later his hands were at her lower back and hip, steadying her on her feet but lingering after he was sure she wouldn’t fall over. Benimaru was staring at her again, scanning, searching for something so intensely it made her cheeks feel warm and Y/N looked away.

“Hey,” the Captain brushed his hand over her the top of her head until he could pull her head forward to meet his. With their foreheads pressed together, she could feel her heart beating faster and she gently hooked her fingers into his belt, “You feel warm.” Benimaru worried she was hiding something from him, if she was still sick then all she had to do was tell him and he’d get her medicine… or was it worse than that? It was hard to tell if she was too warm because of his own, naturally higher, temperature.

Still, it was nice being close to Y/N and he felt now was probably the best time to talk to her about their relationship - the way things were drifting and changing.

Winding his arms around the base of her back he brought her closer to him, “You need to start being straight with me, I know something’s going on with you and I think maybe you’ve figured out why I’ve been wandering off so often?” She’d be stupid not to realise his attempt to speak with her and his sudden need to do something, anything, to be away from her. “We’ve been together for a while, even as kids we always hung out, it’s getting a little old…”

Opening her eyes, that she hadn’t realised she’d even closed, Y/N met his mismatched eyes, the circle and cross stark over the ruby of his iris’. He looked too serious and if she was honest it was kind of frightening - Did he know?

“I don’t wanna be your boyfri-”

“Captain Shinmon!” Whatever Benimaru had been about to say was drowned out by Shinra rounding the corner and giving one of his ridiculous, formal salutes, “I’m ready for…uh… I… can come back?” The young man looked at the embracing couple and a small blush came to his cheeks, he had disturbed something quite intimate, hadn’t he?

Y/N forced a smile onto her lips and stepped out of Benimaru’s arms, her hands smoothing down her clothes, “Why come back when Beni can beat you to a pulp now?”

“Y/N! It’s training! I’m here for training!” He didn’t always get beaten up, and sure, the woman often patched him up but that didn’t mean he’d gotten beat up.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Beni handing your ass to you. I’m sure one day you might graze our God of Destruction here!” Her fingers carded into Shinra’s hair and gave it a ruffle as she made to pass him, “Do your best. I’m going to go buy dinner.” Y/N pat him once more and headed further into the guardhouse.

Shinra blinked as he watched after her, he knew fake smiles when he saw one and that had definitely been one. What was going on? Why was she acting that way? He turned to ask the Captain if Y/N was okay but his eyes widened and he froze. The lack of natural light in the hallway made the glowing eyes of the Captain all the more obvious and there was an air of menace about him, all Shinra could do was grin nervously and let out a pathetic, “Sorry?”

x - -

Konro could feel her hands shaking as she treated the back of his left shoulder, the area was one of his worst for pain and sensitivity, he knew she was being as gentle as she could be but as he took a sharp breath in Y/N placed her hand on his bicep and apologised. She hated making this worse for him and Konro was too stubborn to admit it hurt… or rather, too much of a gentleman to tell her. When she had come into his room to replace his bandages he had noticed she had looked ready to burst into tears.

She was never really one to cry for no real reason, he had known her since she was a little kid and regarded her as something of a little sister - so he was more than concerned at how quiet she was, how upset she seemed to be.

Maybe she was still feeling sick?

A small sniff came from behind him and he finally caved, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” She placed one of the patches from Haijima over the scorched skin of his shoulder blade and taped it carefully in place. A moment of silence later and she tried to tell him in a calm, grown-up way but instead blurted out, “B-Beni’s dumping me!”

He heard a muffled sob and Konro turned around so that he could face her, he placed his hand on her head and pet it gently whilst she cried into her hands, hiding her face from him. There was no way that could be true, absolutely no chance of it, “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, no, he… he-” The words wouldn’t come out.

“Y/N. Take a breath.” Konro was firm with her, his hand now giving her shoulder a little shake, “What happened?”

He glared at the wall at the far end of the training yard for a long moment before sighing loudly, visibly deflating, “And what’s with her napping in the middle of the day and picking at her food and being so sensitive?”

He handed her a clean piece of bandage so that she could wipe her eyes and running nose before waiting patiently for her. “We nearly bumped into each other in the hall and we got to talking… he… he’s been off with me lately, staring at me, running off, trying to say something but then cutting himself off.” It seemed like petty little things but they all added up, “He said… he said, ‘I don’t wanna be your boyfriend’…” Y/N began to cry harder than before, hunching in on herself as she tried to vanish into thin air. “It’s all my fault!” she sobbed, “I’m going to ruin everything! After what the doctor said - I - I’m scared, Konro!” She felt arms around her and went to the man easily, hugging him tight as he tried to calm her. “I’m scared…”

The Lieutenant sometimes forgot that Benimaru and Y/N were still so young, barely out into their twenties. They were both tough, shouldering a lot of responsibility that they shouldn’t have to… Maybe if he’d been stronger they could have relaxed more. “Why are you scared, Y/N? What did the doctor say?” He pulled her away so that he could see her face clearly, “Are you sick?”

x - -

Ruby eyes widened and he nearly spat out his water as Konro told Benimaru about Y/N’s earlier breakdown. The Captain had been taking a break with Shinra when Konro brought them some food and water before telling him about Y/N. “She thinks I’m trying to leave her?!” Benimaru was incredulous at the suggestion, “Are you serious? Is she an idiot?!” How could she think he would even be able to get up in the morning without knowing she was beside him? If anything ever happened to her he would burn the entire Tokyo Empire down if he had to. “Where is she now?”

“She’s sleeping. We kept her up and she’s… she’s got a reason to be exhausted.” Unconsciously he stepped in front of the entrance to prevent Benimaru rushing in to find Y/N. “Look, I know you’re nervous about telling her what you wanna say but you’re freaking her out, Beni.”

“How do I just propose out of the blue? How do I word that shit, Konro?” He blurted out angrily and raked his fingers through his hair, “Stupid Shinra interrupted and she ran off!” Benimaru threw his hand out to point at Shinra who was sat with his mouth open and ramen hanging limply from his chopsticks, feeling overly awkward witnessing the conversation and being blamed. “I’ve been trying for weeks! Every time I open my mouth to ask her I get tense, then I just don’t…”

Konro put his hands on his hips and glanced at Shinra who was trying to pretend he wasn’t there. He knew the answer to Benimaru’s question but it wasn’t for him to say - he had promised to keep it quiet until Y/N was ready. After she had calmed down and finished treating him Konro had told her to go to bed. She was too exhausted and upset to get much done and he was worried about her health too. “You should ask her yourself… sooner rather than later.”

Benimaru’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, “Oi, Shinra,” he saw the boy jump out of the corner of his eyes, “Finish that up and then I got some errands for you.”

“That’s not training!” He complained loudly

x - -

“Beni…” she could feel her eyes begin to burn with tears and tried harder to pull out of his grasp, “I can’t do this right now, Benimaru. Let go, I need to go!” She felt nauseous, her head was spinning and her stomach was churned as bile started to claw its way up her throat.

Two days passed and nothing had really changed.

Benimaru was still torturing Shinra whilst trying to get a moment alone with Y/N. The woman had been tired lately and by the time he got to bed she was fast asleep, first thing in the morning he would wake up to her throwing up in the adjoining bathroom; it was the first times he was grateful for the perk of not having to share with the whole building.

It was hard to propose to someone who was sleeping, sick or actively avoiding you.

After finishing up a little training with Shinra he headed toward the markets, Benimaru figured she’d be shopping for lunch and catching up with the residents. His eyes swept left to right, searching for her through the busy crowd, “Y/N!” He spotted her at the end of the street heading back towards the Guardhouse, “Oi, I gotta talk to you!” Benimaru shoved past some of the scaffolders fixing another building as he tried to keep an eye on her - he caught up with her and grabbed her wrist, “Didn’t you hear me?” He knew she had and figured she’d been trying to run away from him again.

“Beni,” Y/N tried to pull her hand back, “Let go.”

He refused, “This is important - I’m not putting it off anymore!” He was going to come straight out and say it this time; if anyone interrupted he was going to kill them. “I didn’t wanna do this in the middle of the street but we need to talk.”

“No.” The Captain kept a tight hold and stepped closer, “Y/N, I can’t take it anymore… I wanna- !!” He hadn’t expected her to double over and throw up over his boots; had it been anyone else he would have been angry and shoved them away. Instead, he caught Y/N around the waist as she nearly fell onto her knees. Using one hand to rub her back and moving his body to block her from prying eyes, Benimaru realised she wasn’t running away from him after all. “Sorry…” Benimaru murmured, “I didn’t realise, come on, I’ll take you home.”

When he returned to their room he found her on their futon with the covers over her crossed legs, “Here, it tastes like crap but I hope it helps.”

He left his boots at the door and took her straight to their room, quietly and gently he helped her remove her yukata that she had soiled trying to cover her mouth earlier. He wasn’t put off in the slightest and Benimaru helped clean her up a little before he got her fresh clothes, “Go rinse your mouth and I’ll get you something to help your stomach.”

Guilt gnawed away at him after he had left her to boil the kettle - she must have been so embarrassed to be sick in the street. He hadn’t meant to do that to her…

“Thanks…” They sat in silence, heavy and dense, whilst Y/N took a few sips and mulled over how to tell him - should she tell him? It felt suffocating and then all of a sudden they both looked at each other and spoke.

Another moment of quiet.

“Beni, I’m pregnant.”

“Y/N, marry me.”

“You’re not breaking up with me?”

“A baby?”

“You’ll get what you’re given, Beni.”

Benimaru put his hand over her mouth, “I love you, I’d never break up with you.”

She moved his hand from her mouth with a small frown, “Are you only asking me because you figured out I was pregnant? I don’t want that, I don’t want to hold you back and force you into some dumb honour marriage!”

“I didn’t figure out shit. I just thought you had a bug or something.” Benimaru was a little annoyed with what she was saying but now wasn’t the time for an argument, “I was trying to tell you the other day, this relationship is kinda old now, I’m done with just being your boyfriend and I wanna be your husband. I wanna have the old biddies asking me how my wife is doing… Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

This was a little too much to take in at once and she felt her body getting hot; she was so tired of too many emotions attacking her at once. He loved her and he wanted to be her husband, to stay with her forever and as she looked at him looking at her she felt tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. “I thought you had figured it out… I thought… I thought you wouldn’t want a baby, you already have so much to do and I didn’t want to burden you and - I… I was scared, Beni, I don’t know anything about bab-”

“You’re not a burden.” He cut her off and pulled her onto his lap as he saw her burst into tears, “You say I have too much to do already but you’re the one keeping us all fed and watered. You look after the twins better than anyone and you’re great with kids. You keep me in line, you help Konro… I was hoping we could try for kids in a few years or something but you always were impatient…” The man felt Y/N grumble into his shoulder, wiping her face on his coat, but she sounded better than a moment ago, “I want a girl.”

“Isn’t a wife supposed to be obedient?”

She jabbed him in the ribs and wriggled back a little to half glare at him, “I haven’t agreed to marry you yet.”

This was better, he stroked her cheek with his fingers and smiled as she nuzzled into it, “As if you’d say no - who else you gonna marry here?”

Y/N shrugged and pretended to give it a little thought, “Shinra’s kind of sweet.”

A smirk flashed across Benimaru’s face and he hugged her close again, “Can’t marry him if he’s dead.”

“Can’t marry him if he’s dead.”

It was still a frightening thing, she was having a baby and now she was getting married. Everything was changing and for the first time, Y/N realised it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Then a different thought struck her, “Beni… where is Shinra?”

[yourmidnightlover]

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

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

you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner  @greenprisca  @muffin-cup

[onlyswan]

cloudburst | jjk

→  pairing: jungkook x oc

→  genre: fluff, angst

→  warnings: mention of depression, profanities bc i curse a lot

→  word count: 1.2k

summary: cloudburst (n.) an extreme amount of precipitation in a short period of time, sometimes accompanied by hail and thunder, which is capable of creating flood conditions;

or the only word close enough to describe the peculiar episodes of rainstorm that befall the vicinity when jungkook and ivy’s skin touch.

note: so um i came up with this idea for like more than a year now lol it’s supposedly a story but my motivation always ends up short so i gave it a try today and ended up using jk and i badly need to post it somewhere so here you go i guess lmk what you think?

___

“the weather app said it would be sunny today. why the fuck is it raining cats and dogs?” the woman who just entered the café grumbled, her hair dripping across the floor with every stride she took on the way to a table.

 her friend it seems like laughed at her appearance, “i warned you that it rains here a lot yet you still moved. invest in all things waterproof,”

 ivy looked over at jungkook with a guilty look on her face, which he deliberately ignored. he continued sipping on his coffee, one hand scrolling through his laptop and the other with no plans on letting go of hers. they’ve been here before. they’ve fought countless of times because she can’t stop worrying about how their relationship affects other people, and well, the entire planet.

 “jungkook, humans need sun. the plants and trees that give us oxygen need the fucking sun. it can’t rain every day! we will die!”

 “but i need you every day. is that not an enough reason?”

 and how could she possibly forget this one…

 “the local government is panicking about the flood. it makes no absolute sense why it would rain this hard suddenly often. i think they’re executing a project to redo the roads,”

 “good. that’s their damn job,”

 the thing is… jungkook knows what he wants and he will not let anything stand in his way of getting it. this fact has been well established ever since he was a little kid. when his parents wouldn’t let him get the toy he was eyeing the moment they stepped into the mall, he made his own means and got it for himself, selling the drawings he worked all night on to his classmates and mooching off them for food during recess instead of spending his allowance on overpriced food at the cafeteria. they don’t support his career choice? that’s fine. he moved out and tried, is still trying, his very best to survive in the world outside their roof. to say his parents are still baffled by this action is an understatement. he might be stubborn, and well, bratty, but he never begs. he never asks twice. it is that simple. wait. correction. was.

 jungkook is a hopeless romantic. he isn’t shy about it, but he isn’t very proud of it either. he likes classic romance movies and that’s how he imagines true love would be like. he loves the yearning, stolen glances, shy compliments, petty jealousy. but oh my fucking god, not like this. he is whipped. there is no denying. the fondness he has even for the most trivial things about ivy fascinates him. why do the smallest interactions put a stupid smile on my face? why does her voice gives me butterflies? why the fuck can’t i get enough of her? his friends are terrified of commitment. if they could only hear his thoughts, they would laugh at his face. one day they will understand and i will laugh at their faces then, he would always think to himself when they discuss about not wanting to get tied down and bossed around. because he would do anything and everything for ivy. that is why he pissed off all the damn time. sure, he enjoys the longing and slow burn. but not when one small touch and it rains so hard it looks like the sky is going to fucking fall upon the earth, not when ivy is sad and he can’t hold her in his arms without making her feel more down. rain makes her gloomy and depressed, that is one of the first things he learned about her. the irony makes him want to laugh and cry. she always assures him that it’s alright, that she has found comfort in it somehow, because she has him by her side. and she means it wholeheartedly. jungkook finds it hard to believe her, but he smiles and kisses her anyway, the ringing of the raindrops against the roof turning mute. her kisses make everything better.

 her love language is physical touch, so when they both came to a realization as to why it rains every time they are together, she felt cursed. why? out of all people, why her? she had boyfriends before, but the connection she has with jungkook is different. he treats her right. she is generally shy but once she talks, she would go on and on. she rambles when she is happy, excited, frustrated, or angry. they all get tired of this eventually, but not jungkook. he finds it adorable, and he listens intently whether it’s about how fucked up her childhood was or how much she wants a black cat. he makes her feel happy and loved. but it seems like the universe is against her happiness. when things don’t go her way, she shuts everyone out and drowns herself in her own misery. she knows she’s pathetic, but at least she’s not letting this patheticness bother anyone else, right?

 jungkook never begs. he does not ask twice. but for ivy, he would get on his knees. just like when he spent the entire night knocking on her door.

 “just leave, jungkook. this is fucking stupid. we are stupid,” she made sure to speak clearly, to not wobble on her words. her voice betrayed her at the end. “we’re over,” it came out as a whisper and she was almost terrified that he heard it. he did.

 “let me in, please. let’s talk properly. how are you just going to decide that we’re done? there are two of us in this relationship, ivy,” he tried to reason with her, pulling at his sleeves in an attempt to warm his freezing hands. he wants nothing but to cuddle in her soft and warm bed, he’s in pain. he hates this entire situation, but he loves her most in the world.

 “you sound ridiculous. we haven’t been together that long. you will move on, and i will, too,” the truth is she feels ridiculous. yes, they haven’t been together for that long but she has grown attached. and this hurts worse than she expected. “…right?”

 “that’s bullshit and you know it. i don’t care about the consequences. i don’t want to lose you,” it has never been this difficult to walk away, so you know what? fuck ego. fuck the goddamn planet. “we will make this work. we have to. so when you’re ready to open the door, i will be here.”

 ivy smiled at the sight of her boyfriend focused on drawing on his tablet, legs crossed and the digital pencil gripped by his tattooed hand she usually loves holding, but she’ll let him work for now. he tsked when a strand of hair fell over his eyes, which she brushed back immediately.

 “just put your hair in a bun so it wouldn’t bother you,”

 he pouted, “you do it better than me,”

 “liar, you just don’t want to move,” she rolled her eyes but stood up anyway.

 “maybeee,” he chuckled, averting his attention back to the screen as she did his hair. she loves his hair, more so with that damn undercut, but she won’t tell him that and well, she doesn’t really have to, because he already knows. with the way she constantly plays with it and tells him to put it up? she’s not exactly slick.

 “thanks, baby. i love you,” he hummed. she kissed his cheek as a return of appreciation and fought back a wince when the lady from the other table continued complaining because the drizzle outside intensified to a rain once again.

 jungkook merely shrugged and turned the screen towards her. “what do you think?”

[pathofcomet]

and it’s just around the corner

fandom: stardew valley 

pairing: sebastian/player (female)

summary:  She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back.

rating: explicit // word count: 25k // AO3

She cannot remember the farm per say, just the proof that she’s been there once: a dusty, yellowed photo of herself, smiling in a pink sundress under the shade of a gigantic oak, 4 years old and beaming. She can vaguely bring back the savour of cranberry jam on her tongue, the authentic, slightly sour taste that only meant home-made. She thinks they had a gray cat, and she can feel the smell of gasoline in her nose, from the long car ride there as a child. That’s all she remembers about her grandparents’ old farm; and anything of that lifestyle is completely lost upon her, or her memories of her grandpa. They haven’t been crazily close either: she was busy pursuing her education too far away to allow proper visits, and the phone signal failed the old man too much to allow even constant communication. When he died, they buried him in the city, next to his wife, and everything about the way he lived his life became hazy and forgotten in the lives of the living.

Which is probably why it is so hard to comprehend what she’s reading now, in her cubicle at work, defeated under her 16th time this month of overwork. Her grandpa was known for being eccentric, which is why she expected to see a card with hey, we all die in the end! or something written on it, and not the dreams of her childhood offered on a plate to her. She stares at the paper, reads and rereads it for 7 times before she’s convinced it’s actually real.

She’s touched at the care in his words, at the oozing affection on that piece of paper. It’s something that she didn’t know she was missing until now. A care sent across generations, to reach her – and when she feels like she needs it most. She doesn’t know if she should scream or cry or laugh.

She looks around: there are only a couple of other workers left in the office at the moment, in the late hours of the night. There’s delivery food all across the others’ empty desks, and a few of the girls switched their shoes, from heels to sneakers. And yet, as she stops, the clanking on the keyboard never ends around her, and the neon light remain buzzing above her, the static noise of her real life nightmare. The sigh coming from a co-worker several seats away is deafening in her ears. As she’s writing her resignation letter, for her boss to find on his desk at the first hour in the morning, she can’t help but notice how her vision shakes, how she can’t quite straighten her back under the pain of hours and hours of being hunched at a desk.

It’s not even the irony of it all, dying in a storm of unfair overworking while those above her wallow in money, that upsets her more. But rather, the way in which she cannot have any satisfaction out of it anymore. As a graduate, she thought she’d find happiness in a corporate job that pays well, but now the comfort of money means nothing when she doesn’t have the time to even spend it, and she can’t even recall what her hobbies are, let alone when’s the last time she did anything else but work, do house chores and sleep.

She cannot recall the last time she met up with some friends, visited new places or ordered online something else but a new pair of heels or a new shirt for work. Gods, now that she hit the brake on her wreck of a life, she can’t stop noticing how pathetic she’s been.

Her hands tremble as she signs the paper, as she tosses her meagre office belongings into her bag, as she pushes the elevator button. She’s already overthinking the decision, but it’s already made and she can only worry about what’s to be done next now. She’s 100% sure she’s not made for this, she has zero knowledge of how to take care of a farm and she still screams when she sees a spider in her apartment. But she’s tired, there’s a tiredness that never seems to let loose, and no matter how much she sleeps on Sundays, she wakes up feeling like she has her hands and feet tied. Even if to only rest for a while, and the whole ordeal would still have been worth it.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to her that night. She reads the letter over and over again, she measures the weight of the keys in her palms, she tries to put puzzle pieces together, from old photos she brings up from hidden boxes. Nothing tells her she made the right decision, though in her old photos, everyone looks so happy while on the farm. Maybe she didn’t even truly get to the end of her patience, just a bad day, maybe she still could have taken it for a while. After all, it’s not like she had that bad of a life. But then, it’s not like it was that good either. And once she started thinking of it, the idea of change became hauntingly tempting. The potential in this new place is infinite, and so, so terrifying.

But a change nonetheless.

She spends the next couple of weeks in a frenzy: selling most of her belongings, keeping only the strictly necessary. She keeps the pictures, of course. A few books, only those that she read during university and she felt like they changed her life, though she hasn’t revisited those stories since. Maybe she’ll finally have the time to, now. She sells or donates all her office clothes, expensive shirts and bags – all gone, because they remind her of some kind of work she never wants to do again in her life.

When she stops to count what’s left, looking at her near-empty apartment, two suitcases and a backpack put aside, she’s overwhelmed at how pointlessly she lived her life up until this point. She has nothing to show for all the efforts she’s made, and she can feel the skin all over her body itch with the realisation, itch for something else to do.

She doesn’t look back, as she’s returning the keys of her rented apartment. She has been paying expensively for the chance to live on her own in the big city, and there’s nothing but bitterness towards that idea anyway. She waits in the bus station with music playing at the highest volume, drowning out an incoming panic attack – as she’s struggling to count up to 10, reassure herself that she’s a grown fucking adult and that she can do something as easy as just moving someplace new.

Still, the scenarios roll in her mind, unperturbed, and she almost throws up thrice before she reaches her destination – and then she almost throws up again, as she’s watching the bus pull away, leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere. The sun is bright, but too bright and her clothes are sticking to her skin, even if it’s barely early spring, and the air is fresh. A fairy-tale start to her new adventure, and yet she feels like crying right then and there, a fain headache booming at her temples from all the anxiety she had to push away.

She’s already exhausted and it’s barely noon. She starts pulling at her suitcases, though the road makes it a tricky and tiring job. Then, just as she’s ready to take her first break, a hand grabs the handle, and she stares up in the face of a kindly looking old man.

Mayor Lewis; she still remembers the face, as he is the kind of person who probably always looked the same. They’ve last seen each other at her grandfather’s funeral, so there’s a bit of awkwardness hanging between the two of them, as she’s allowing him to help her with her luggage.

A redheaded woman is waiting for them in her truck, a bit of a distance away, and she helps them with her stuff. It’s easy to make conversation when friendly people are pushing it forward, and they seem way too enthusiastic about her presence. They don’t even comment about her sneakers, totally unfit for most of the roads in the town, or her outfit, that would rip or get dirty the second she’d encounter a field.

She already has a room prepared at Lewis’ place, there’s no way her old house can offer her proper living conditions just yet. That’s not a jab directed at her, rather at the passing of time and the overgrown state of her courtyard. But there’s nothing mean behind their comments, and they’re even offering all the help they can.

She’s trying to come up with a list of things that she might need, but Robin is already writing one of her own.

“She’s our architect,” Lewis whispers, winking at her in secrecy.

It’s weird and scary and she doesn’t know how to feel about it. Back in the city, she could have crumbled on the sidewalk and nobody would have cared. Here, it seems everyone jumps at the chance to do just that, help and care, and she’s terrified out of her skin. Her thanks are muffled by the weird knot in her throat. When balancing things out in her head, there’s nothing she can give them in equal measures.

The key in her hand feels foreign, but yet it’s that thing that grounds her to the moment, doesn’t let her slip away in that part of her brain that makes her forget things even happened. The house is, of course, a disaster, though someone had the good thinking of covering the furniture. The place is small, and it needs a good dusting, maybe even a new coat of paint. Robin, by her side, is still doing her job.

“Is there anything you want in particular?”

“No, not really. I don’t think so?”

She’s lost and overwhelmed. She’d like to just sit somewhere and start unpacking, maybe go and switch all of her things again actually, because there’s no way she can fit in with these people. But Lewis’ arm is around her shoulder, urging her back the way they came, promising her his special vegetable mix and green tea.

Once finally out of his sight, and comfortably settled in his extra bedroom, she squeezes a pillow close to her chest, hiding her face in it, and starts crying. She sobs – for the grandparents she didn’t properly appreciate while alive, that still left her with so much. For the chance that not many have to switch things around. For the state in which the farm is, and the immense effort she’ll have to put in building it back together. For the pain in her arms, the burn so unfamiliar that it must be only the sign of something new. She’s overwhelmed and scared, and hours pass before she finally falls asleep,

The next morning, she refuses even the breakfast, and immediately heads towards her place, luggage in tow. Mayor Lewis promised he’ll solve the problem of electricity and water running back to the place, so at least she can forget the administrative part.

She greets everyone she passes by, because otherwise the staring just gets too unbearable, and though they’re curious, they also remain polite too. But her courtyard and house are truly disastrous. She’s glad it’s still so early in the year, so the weeds didn’t grow yet on the path towards her door, so at least she can focus on dusting off the room, polishing the floor. She unpacks with nostalgic music blasting from her phone: plates in one drawer, her clothes in the other two. She builds herself a nightstand out of all the books she brought with her, and she washes the curtains by hand, letting them dry out in the sun.

She goes to the town for bedsheets and even more cleaning products, buys a basil plant for the windowsill. The place is small, smaller even than her city apartment, and she has nothing of her own to properly decorate it with, give it a specific charm, so she allows herself to get lost between the small isles of the store, and pick whatever piques her fancy. But this is fine, she thinks. This is, after all, the true definition of a new start.

She watches the sun set from her porch – she thinks she’d like an armchair for the place, it’d make a lovely reading pace if it’s not rainy, and there’s a soft lull from the TV inside, where the weather prognosis for the next day rattles on.

She finds grandpa’s old gardening books, and she starts reading them. She cleans up a small portion of the land, plants some seeds she picked based on Pierre’s recommendations. Gathers wood from the end of the forest that runs almost up to her house, practices splitting it in smaller branches, that she can carry and gather in the small tool shed, for the winter.

During the first night that it rains, she opens her door to a stray, lost dog. She hugs him close to her all through the night, as he whimpers and warms up – and in the morning she names him Max, and buys him dog food and a colourful bowl. She stops feeling so alone, so lost, a purpose forming, even though she can’t quite name it.

When too many days pass with her cooped only at her place, letters and requests for visits start pouring in her mailbox. Sometimes mayor Lewis comes pick her himself, walking around the town with her, stopping to present her to any villager they encounter. She feels like a circus freak being paraded around like this, but she smiles, wonders if Max is getting bored at home or if she could walk through the forest in search of some fruits.

 ***

Then, when the weather prognosis tells of many sunny days in a row, Robin shows up at her doorsteps, can of paint in one hand, brushes in the other – and her son behind her, to help her out.

She watches him, fiddling on the spot, looking like he certainly doesn’t want to be here and she smiles. Well, that’s at least a feeling that she can relate to, even when in her bed after a tiring day, she still sometimes yearns for everything that this place is not. Max helps. In this case as well, as he runs to the door and immediately jumps on him.

“Max, no!” she chides, though he settles calmly on panting up at the man for pats. Luckily, he hasn’t slammed him to the ground, as he tends to do with her, but that’s still no proper way of greeting strangers. “I’m so sorry…”

“Sebastian,” he says. “There’s no problem, really.” He’s scratching the dog between his ears, absentmindedly looking in through the door, at the small place she now calls home. There’s nothing much in there, but she finds herself growing protective over it anyway, at his gaze.

Max, the traitor, is now cuddled down at his feet. From the side, Robin laughs.

Her and Sebastian move the furniture, as Robin tapes newspaper on the wooden floor. She prepares fresh lemonade for her visitors and helpers before they start painting, and she takes a short break just to water her crops. They do the work in silence, mostly, just her phone turned on to fill up the space – and without mayor Lewis’ fast mouth, she isn’t certain what she could possibly talk about. From time to time, Robin asks Sebastian something – regarding his sister, or some things she asked him about before, which sounds a lot like nagging so she prefers to stay out of it.

She thanks them many, many times before they leave for the day. Especially since it was the weekend, and she’s sure they just threw away a perfectly free day on helping her put together her house. She just feels more and more indebted towards all these people. Even if Sebastian didn’t look her way even once.

 ***

She starts going to the local library, borrowing books and learning more and more things about the farm. She accepts the quests from the bulletin board, and in exchange she asks for fishing tips or some town history. She starts taking evening walks, with Max, picking up acorns. She gets stronger and better at all the farm work. She places various orders, starting to gather syrup from the trees near her house – and one lazy day, she makes jam, that she then sells.

She starts counting the money, making plans for the farm. She buys two chickens, and the one day when no one in the town sees her, it is because she struggled all the time to build a fence so that they won’t step all over crops and no fox would reach them during the night.

 ***

Everyone is friendly, showing up at her door with gifts for her new move: a handmade mug from Leah, a beautiful seashell from Elliot, an actual functional first aid kit from Harvey. She suspects the mayor’s doing behind all these kindness acts, and yet it’s with a reverent kind of gestures that she finds a place for all of them in her small house. She starts adding some kind of adjectives to this cast of characters that enter her life.

But with Sebastian, something’s different. She doesn’t know what makes her notice him again; that something that made him stand out from the mass of people she met in the past few weeks. Maybe it’s not even just one single thing, but a mix: like how he is the son of the kindest lady, paler than the farmers or football players, how he doesn’t want to stand out at all, how she has to go out of her way to find him, instead of the other way around.

Most of all, it’s the desperation she can feel off of him. There’s a force in him that cannot make peace with how things are for him at the moment – and it’s the familiarity of it that pulls her in, lets her gaze linger on him for a bit longer, makes her ask about him while smiling in the most innocent way, sipping tea in Robin’s office.

***

They’re not that different; she’s easy to fit in the village life, mostly because she’s so pliable for others, knowing the memory of her grandpa is attached to her as well. She sometimes feels like the older residents of the town look through her, instead of directly at her, and see the ghost of someone else they used to know. And the days pass, things fall together, and yet in her chest, there’s a clock ticking away, counting down the time spent here, because if she was looking for something like belonging, it seems this town buried it away with her grandpa, and things don’t seem that different from how they used to be. She just has dirtier nails now, and some decaying make-up skills.

So she never visits without a purpose, doesn’t get too friendly with most of them. She spends days in a row on her farm, ploughing the land, watering the plants, feeding the animals. Task upon task, she goes through all of them, grateful for how it’s silencing her mind, giving her the time and space to breathe. If she finishes early, she likes to go fishing, the breeze nice against her sun-warmed face, especially as the dusk approaches.

It’s the simplicity of life that lulls her into wanting something more, eventually, tentatively. She visits Robin, as she’s closing the store, so they can share some fresh-picked fruits while watching the sun set. She meets up with the mayor for chess during Sundays, stories of two best friends half a century ago embedded in every sigh, and she wins every time and that’s how she knows he just lets her. When she passes by to drop something for the museum, she spends the remaining afternoon in the library, browsing the collection, reading for the children fresh out of classes that ask her to do so.

But if anyone in Pelican Town would be asked, they wouldn’t be able to tell people that much about their newest villager. In truth, even for those closest to her, there’s an aura of mystery: whatever her life was before, she doesn’t go into details. Whatever and for however long she might remain in their lives, she doesn’t say.

To Sebastian, that’s what makes it easy. He doesn’t expect her to tell him anything, since she’s not pressing her curiosities either. Probably why she opens so willingly, why she creates a routine around his. She always stops at the edge of the river, where she knows she’ll find him in the evenings. They never talk for long, or of important things – but she thinks, the magic is in staring together at the same scenery, feeling much of the same things. After the third time, she asks for a cigarette from him, and she winks at him when he looks just a tiny bit surprised.

This is how it begins. The rest she almost doesn’t even notice.

 ***

She remembers the Egg festival; she’s sure she took part in one of the hunts back when she was little, though the details are foggy in her mind. She doesn’t remember any of the villagers, but she’s been a very shy child, and not even the promise of bunny chocolates was enough to persuade her back then.

Still, she worked for so long in a corporation, at this point the spirit of competition is embedded into her. She wakes up early, and she wears one of her dresses from before, even if she has to match it with grandpa’s old jeans jacket. She even puts on make-up, manages to water her plants as well before she’s walking towards the town.

She officially meets Maru and Demetrius, as they’ve been so busy during her past visits. Marnie clasps her in-between her arms, exclaims how pretty she is when not trying to imitate her house’s looks, and loudly kisses both her cheeks. Gus waves at her, and keeps presenting various plates to her, and by the time she can excuse herself, she’s glad she hasn’t eaten any breakfast. Jas and Vincent come at her yelling tag! and she spends the next half an hour running around, followed by the sometimes annoyed, sometimes happy smiles of the other villagers.

She buys strawberry seeds, more on a whim, because she was craving for some, and gets herself a cute bunny plush, since she’d had trouble sleeping, and she’s sure Max would appreciate her hugging a non-living thing more. She feels like she fits more, now, that she’s surrounded by everyone else, and she realizes that she knows them all, that they know her back – and there’s no outright hostility.

She greets Sebastian, and meets his friends. She compliments Abigail’s hair, Sam compliments her instead. He’s friendly and outgoing, compared to the other two in his group, but she notices Sebastian’s fleeting smile at the toy in her arms, so she straightens her back even more.

As soon as mayor Lewis starts his announcement, Abigail immediately seems more excited, especially since she is presented as the winner for the past decade. However, by the time the day ends, Pelican Town has a new Egg Hunt winner.

The straw hat doesn’t fit her outfit, and it’s not quite yet a necessary accessory, but she’s beaming at every villager that comes to congratulate her, even if she’s already so old and she shouldn’t be so happy about beating a few 10 year olds. Even Abigail is a good sports and promises she will beat her next year.

Next year – she wonders if she’ll even be around for that long. Her saved-up money is slowly trickling down, as she keeps buying things that she needs, and she has no idea yet how much profit she’ll be able to make at harvest time. She feels better knowing her doubts don’t show to others.

She walks part of her way home with Robin and her family. Maru is happily telling her something about her research, though it goes over her head and she doesn’t understand much of what’s going on. Demetrius and Robin walk several steps ahead, arms linked, and it’s a sweet sight to see, that they can be so close even after so many years.

Then, before she takes her turn to her farm, after everyone else said their goodbyes, Sebastian looks up at her.

“It suits you,” he says, so low she almost misses it, nodding his head at her hat. She blushes under the street lamp, but he’s already turned his back on her and he can’t see, so she can go on her own way and pretend it never happened.

 ***

She starts going to the mines, even if everyone tells her she better not. But she needs better tools, more resources and something to do on rainy days, so she goes anyway. She comes out late into the night, dirtier than she’s ever been, spider cobwebs stuck in her hair, but her backpack heavy.

The next morning, she struggles packing some presents for Robin and Lewis, for all the help they’ve showered her in ever since she moved. She doesn’t have much to offer, some syrup and a jar of jam, a few eggs. But as she’s going into town, there are three presents that she’s carefully carrying around in her bag.

She stops by Lewis first, sits on his stairs with a steaming mug of coffee between her hands, as he waters his small garden – and they chat about the weather, the fishing days that Lewis has programmed, their favourite Stardrop meal. The days get warmer and warmer, as they’re slowly rolling towards summer, and she’s feeling peaceful, listening to the mayor’s chatter, his grunts as he digs around, his yelling when she offers to help him around.

She drops by Clint to let him examine some of the stuff she found underground, and by the time she reaches Robin’s place, the older woman is taking her lunch break. She’s exclaiming happily at the gift, and invites her to stay for lunch. She helps her with the plates, and while Robin goes to gather the rest of her family, she sends her to get Sebastian.

She has to breathe deep, count to 10, before she has the courage to knock at his door. There’s the sound of something tumbling to the floor, and she winces; more shuffling, and the door finally opens to reveal a somewhat sleepy looking Sebastian. It looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair yet, as it sticks out in odd directions, and in his own space, he’s wearing some old, washed-out t-shirt that is several sizes too large, and sweats. She stares at him, entirely endeared, but also deeply aware that there’s a line she has just crossed by seeing him like this – and she’s not sure she was allowed to.

“Hi,” she says, at the same time he says “Shit”, closing the door on her. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to come up with a proper way to reach to this, but her mind coming up blank.

Eventually, she lamely says “Robin said lunch’s ready,” before she leaves for the kitchen again. Demetrius is already seated at the table, looking up at his wife like she hung up the sun on the sky. Maru refuses to show up, as she’s too invested in her research, but there’s the slam of a door from downstairs, and Sebastian eventually shows up, just as his step-father takes his first bite from his plate of spaghetti. Their guest has not yet picked up her fork.

Sebastian is now wearing actual jeans, and his hair looks a bit more tamed. He sits next to her, and the four of them eat in relative silence, though she’s obsessively thinking of her knee, against Sebastian’s, under the table and she wants to fucking swear at herself, for acting like a fucking cowardly high-schooler.

“So, why did you move to Pelican Town?” Demetrius asks her, in the end. She notices him wincing immediately after the dull thud from under the table, and she imagines that was Robin kicking him from asking a question that no one had dared poise to her until now.

She finishes chewing the food in her mouth, swallowing a bit more painful.

“I needed a change,” she says eventually, entirely too vague.

“From? You should tell Sebastian about your city experience, because he’s obsessed with leaving the town.”

There’s a disapproving tone in his voice that makes her wince, but her head snaps up at Sebastian, who looks both entirely annoyed and disappointed. She’d like to press her finger to the frown now so obvious on his forehead.

“Really?” she mumbles lamely instead. Sebastian’s now looking at her, and although across the table his parents are bickering with each other in low whispers, he doesn’t break the eye contact. He just nods at her question, grabs another bite of food – the words won’t make it any better.

She always thought that the people in this town are happy to live here, heck even she’s trying to understand the charm of the place and why her grandpa never left it. She always thought that if there is someone to leave it, that’d be her, in an example of another of her life’s failures. But here’s Sebastian, burning with a yearning for a city just as hers to leave it was.

He takes her back home, assuring her that his lunch break is long enough to allow him to do that. They’re walking side by side in companionable silence. Sebastian, unlike his father, doesn’t ask her anything, so when they reach her property, she hands him her last package.

“Can I?” he asks, a hand already tugging at the ribbon, and she smiles at him. Inside, there’s an assortment of minerals: quartz, obsidians. She’s found them during her time in the mines, and the only thing she somewhat remembers from her dialogue with Maru is that her brother loves this stuff.

“What’s this for?” he says, voice a little chocked, laughing at the end, embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Thanks for that day,” she says. Then, more unsure… “And good luck for the future?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She’s already turned around on her feet, a hand up in the air in goodbye.

The next morning, even if Sebastian never eats breakfast, he makes toast and eats it with strawberry jam, from a jar cutely decorated in stickers, where in cursive, their newest villager wrote for Robin and family <3.

 ***

She goes to JojaMart to buy an electric kettle; she can’t quite yet afford to get her kitchen built in, so she’s been eating at the Stardrop Saloon or lived on oatmeal and salads. But the mornings are dreadful with instant coffee and cold tap water, so she’s finally investing in something to make her life a bit better. This lifestyle reminds her of being a student in the dorms, and it’s not something she thought she’ll ever return to.

Sam looks around for his managers, and when there’s none around, he stops next to her and they chat by the vegetable stall. She’s frowning at the price, way higher than what they can find in the town and what she sells her own products for.

“Capitalism,” Sam says brightly, tugging at his employee lanyard, and she laughs at him.

“Oh, trust me, I know all about that.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, which makes her snort. Shane, his co-worker, turns to stare at them, but he’s not telling them on, so she moves one step closer to him.

“I’ve worked in customer care for Joja Corporation.”

Sam mimics throwing up, turning serious again only when she’s elbowing his side. She’s painfully aware of all the cameras in the store, after all this time away from anything of the sorts.

“But for real, you’re way better in Pelican Town,” he says, even if she’s not yet quite convinced.

But he doesn’t continue pressing the matter. Instead, Sam invites her the next Friday for an evening at the Saloon, where him, Sebastian and Abigail are supposed to play live a few of their songs. She clasps her hands together, and agrees immediately. She used to love this kind of thing: but it’s been so long since she allowed herself to take an evening off, both in her life back in the city, and the life here.

 ***

She’s already a regular, so Emily nowadays greets her with a hug. Though this time she whistles suggestively at her outfit. Since it’s supposed to be a more special night, she chose a low cut blouse to go with skinny jeans, and she’s no more a formless body buried under work clothes. The only make-up is a very dark lipstick. Her… friends, she supposes, are already on the side, tuning their instruments. Sam grins at her, waving her at the table Gus saved up for them, where he ordered pizza for everyone.

They’re not playing for a long time, maybe half an hour, but by the end, everyone is loudly clapping at their performance. She’s the only one whooping, and Sam is loudly laughing at her embarrassed grin afterwards, runs to fall into her waiting arms and twirls her around in the air, feet not touching the floor.

“Who knew our biggest fan would be you?” he says, helping her pat her hair pack into place.

“I did. I mean, your band has Abigail.”

The girl in questions frowns a bit at her, suspicious that it’s less of a compliment than she tried to make it, turns on her feet as she moves to the music box, tosses a coin in and picks a song. It takes a few seconds for her choice to start loudly booming in the saloon, but as soon as she does, she moves to grab at Sebastian’s arm, dragging him to the dancefloor, though he looks like he’s a lamb taken to sacrifice.

Sam laughs at the two of them, then turns back to his new friend.

“Do you think these two will ever hook up?”

She chokes on the slice of pizza that she’s eating, punching at her chest so she can breathe again. Someone slides in the chair next to her to the table, a hand slapping her hard on the back until she can breathe properly again. Then, frowning, she turns towards the newcomer, because she can’t bear looking at Sebastian and Abigail, together, dancing. She doesn’t think she can look at them without imagining them doing exactly what Sam asked her about, and it’s a shaming thought that she burns down. Shane, the one sitting next to her now, has already picked a slice of his own from their order, and nodded in greetings at Sam.

Sam leaves to talk with Penny, spending enough time as it is in Shane’s company, so Shane moves even closer to her, so he can be heard over the loud music. He’s a bit of an asshole, as he’s looking nowhere else but at her cleavage and the skin she’s showing with her choice of clothes. He’s not even trying to hide it, licking his lips, speaking without even trying to lift his eyes.

“Didn’t know the sunshine and the emo buy are hiding such a beauty between themselves,” he says, snaking an arm around her waist, shoving the second pint of beer he arrived with in her direction. He already smells like the stuff though, which means he’s at least tipsy, if not outright drunk yet. There’s offense in the way he said those nicknames, horrible on their own as well, but she’s sitting between the wall and his body and he’s a man showing interest in her, clearly going out of his way to make it obvious.

She takes several big gulps from her beer, and then turns towards him, smiling. He can’t tell it is strained.

“Well, I’m here now,” she says, and the hand around her squeezes in response. She lets him talk, mostly shit about the town, then shit about himself, and she keeps drinking and drinking, glass after glass of alcohol, because then at least she doesn’t have to reply. In the dark, they must look pretty cosy to the others, because no one else returns to the table – and by the time she remembers she is supposed to have friends around, and looks around for them, her vision is unfocused and she can’t make out the shapes and figures all around.

But she can notice the slightly grown stubble on Shane, how he’s now so, so close to her, his lips brushing against her ear each time he tells her something. She feels like she’s about to suffocate. But he tells her about how beautiful she is, how hard he makes her – and he guides her hand to his pants, where she indeed can feel her effect, and it’s a surge of pleasure and power. She squeezes him through his pants, and he groans in her ear. Her nipples perk up. And then his lips move closer, to her neck, where his tongue is lapping at her skin, sucking against the space. She feels hot all over, in a way that she doesn’t know if she likes or not. His other hand is now fondling with her breasts through her blouse, and she gasps – which only makes him to go at it harder. His mouth finds her, his tongue moving against hers immediately. She’s lost in time, doesn’t know for how long he does it – her body becoming lighter and lighter with each swipe of his saliva against her lips.

Then, a cough from behind Shane. She snaps out of her daze, looks up. Makes eye contact with Sebastian, which feels as effective as a cold shower to her fogged mind. She yanks Shane’s hands off her, but he’s unbothered, turns to look at Sebastian with something like disgust and boredom.

“Can we help you?” Shane says. She hates how the word we sounds from his mouth.

Sebastian doesn’t bother to even look at the drunk guy, instead addressing her only.

“Do you want to go home? The others left already, but it’s getting pretty late…” He stops to stare at Shane, and she wordlessly nods at him. He starts moving instantly, shoving Shane away so he can grab her wrist and help her out of her chair. She needs a few seconds to stabilize herself on her feet, stop the dizzying headache that hit her at the sudden movement.

“Come on, man, what do you think you’re doing?” Shane asks, though he also has troubles standing on his own feet. He makes do with leaning against the table, doing his best to look as menacing as possible.

In his arms, she shudders at the sound of his voice, clutches her fingers around Sebastian’s leather jacket. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t want to touch her either, so he just stands still.

“She’s coming with me,” is all he says, and when he starts towards the door, she follows silently. He offers her jacket, which he picked up earlier, before checking on her, and she hangs her head even lower in shame. The cold, outside air is quickly sobering her up, and she really can’t believe she lost herself, just as if she were a college freshman. She burns with embarrassment.

Once out, Sebastian moves a bit away from her, offering her space, though he always extends an arm in her direction when she stumbles on both existent and imaginary obstacles. The silence now is excruciating.

“Say something,” she croaks, her throat hurting from all the alcohol.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, and he stops, looks at her for the first time since the start of all this situation. She knows she probably looks like a mess, lipstick smeared all around her mouth, clothes hanging awkwardly, but his eyes just search hers. She suddenly feels like crying. He must see it too, because he’s moving closer to her.

“Can I-” he tries, sighs, moves a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can I touch you?”

She nods, but he doesn’t move.

“I’ll need verbal confirmation.”

“Yes.”

She’s outright staring at him now, as he makes his way to her, cups her face in between his hands. His fingers are cold against her flushed skin, but it grounds her to the moment. Sebastian’s eyes are moving now, across her face: stop at her jaw, her neck, where Shane sucked painful love bites against her skin, visible even only in the light coming from the street lamps. He hesitates before moving his gaze downwards, where similar marks were left by his fingers against her tits. She feels like used goods, even if there is no judgement from Sebastian.

“Did you want that?” he asks again, sounding deadly serious, so she’s trying to think equally as seriously about his question. It’s hard, her thoughts all jumbled up, a soft kind of edge to everything going on in her head.

“I don’t know,” she answers finally, her head pressing more firmly against his palm. Sebastian’s thumbs are now moving softly against her jaw, and she wants to purr, just like a cat, maybe hang on to him for more of his warmth.

“God,” he says, and it sounds like a swearword. He unglues himself from her, extends an arm that she gracefully takes as they continue on the road to her house. He doesn’t say anything more until they arrive on her porch, though he looks like he’s thinking very hard. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.

Max is happily snoring on the warm ground, and she lets go of Sebastian to run the short distance to her dog. She goes on her knees, grabs Max’s head in her hands and coos at him like she would to a baby, talks lovesick nonsense to the dog, pats him all over.

Her voice sounds fucking cute, Sebastian thinks, but instead he fishes something from the pockets of his jacket, bends down so he can press it in her palms. She immediately turns to look at him, eyes big and questioning.

“Take those in the morning, okay? You’ll need them,” is all he says, raising a hand and waving it in a goodbye.

 ***

Sebastian is right. She wakes two hours later, empties all the contents of her stomach, tears burning at her eyes, and when she wakes again, she thanks all the gods that outside it is raining, because she only gets up to get a glass of water and swallow the pills. Her head is killing her, and her heart aches in embarrassment at the way she acted. She hangs between screaming out in frustration at her own self and complaining about being hangover the whole day, hating herself so, so very much.

She still shoots Sebastian a text, thanking him for taking care of her, in so many ways, the night before. He leaves her on read.

For the next week, she busies herself with work on the farm. She makes another batch of jam jars, which she sends to Lewis for selling. She plants a new tree sapling, harvests strawberries, even builds an ugly-looking scarecrow out of an old broom. She cuts down wood, saves up stacks of it for when she’ll eventually afford Robin’s services. She goes in the mines, once or twice.

Then one of Lewis’ invitations is waiting in her mailbox, for another festival. Spring is coming to an end, already a sweeter, warmer breeze in the air, so the whole town is to celebrate the exact thing.

 ***

But Pelican Town is a small place, and so it never forgets gossip too easily. On that evening, enough pairs of eyes saw her fumbling in the dark with Shane, and so enough pairs of eyes are now watching her suspiciously as she greets the mayor. She’s wearing some city dress again, though more modest, and ribbons in her hair. She’s forcing herself to smile at everyone she encounters, trying not to seem so affected by the outright cold shoulder.

Sam still greets her, though, grabbing her in his arms.

“Oh, handsome!” she says, and laughs when he’s looking around, to check if anyone else heard her. But he is wearing a suit, his hair is gelled down and he smells like his mother. His eyes are searching hers though, and she thinks Sebastian might have said something to his friend. But thankfully Sam mentions nothing.

She looks behind him, at Sebastian, dressed in a costume as well. Her heart starts beating faster in her chest; his hair is pushed back, and his forehead is now uncovered. He sits relaxed, his hands in his pockets, like he doesn’t really want to be there and she hasn’t seen someone look that heartbreakingly gorgeous.

“You too,” she says. Sebastian raises an eyebrow at her. “Look good, I mean,” she clarifies, and she clears her throat before the awkwardness chokes her.

It’s a big understatement, but it’s the best she can do right now. There’s a small smile that she gets in reply. On the other side of the field, by Robin’s side, Abigail, Penny and Maru look absolutely stunning in their festival dresses, with the flower crowns on top of their heads. They’re laughing at one of Abigail’s stories, and they’re just beautiful and young and entirely enrapturing. She wonders if she didn’t fuck it up so badly earlier, she would have been invited to be one of them.

This time around, there’s not as much mingling with the people as earlier in the season; people are a bit warier, though she supposes she deserves it. She’s busy setting down a mat under a blossoming tree, preparing some kind of picnic and viewing spot at the same time.

“You look beautiful,” she hears from behind her, and she turns around to find Shane. A bit behind him, Marnie is engaged in a conversation with the mayor, and by his side, there’s Jas, who immediately shoves her sandals away so she can step on her mat and sit next to her.

She offers her tea and strawberries, places her own hat on top of the child’s head to protect her from the sun, who squeals in delight that she can show off the winning prize of the egg hunt. Then, she turns back to Shane:

“Is she your daughter?”

“Gods, no. She’s my goddaughter.”

She sighs, relieved a bit. In the morning, Shane looks just scruffy, some kind of sober, but his face is still red and puffy, sign of alcoholism. She knows Jas lives with him and Marnie, and it can’t be a good environment for a child, but she’s heard the rumours that he’s not that much at home anyway. She’s worrying for the young girl, but she also trusts Marnie to handle the subject, not really her place to say anything anyway.

Shane moves closer, his hand grabbing the end of the scarf she’s wearing around her neck, tugging so it comes undone between his fingers. She gasps, palm gluing to the skin there, reaching out for him.

“Give it back,” she all but growls it out, eyes frantically looking around, hoping no one is actually looking their way, since everyone is focused on preparing for the dance.

“I did that, right?” he asks, finally stopping, and she takes back her scarf, hangs her head low, so that her hair can cover her movement, as she ties it back in place.

“Yes, you fucking asshole,” she spits, but doesn’t move away from him.

“I was honest, you know. About you looking beautiful. Then and now too.”

“Thank you,” she says, and stays in place even as Shane gets closer to her. He’s also dressed up, wearing an actual shirt and everything, his jaw freshly shaven. He even looks somewhat attractive, and just like last time, she’s grateful for the attention. Back in Zuzu City, no one bothers with any kind of dating, no one bothers to notice someone else at all – no sweet lies, no prelude, just a dick and a cunt. So this feels new and flattering at the same time.

She sits down on her mat, reluctantly serves Shane too with some of her freshly picked strawberries. Jas moved over to Vincent and Jodi, her hands carefully holding on to the hat that’s still a bit too big for her, so it’s only the two of them in this corner. The music can’t start soon enough, because she can feel stray eyes looking to them.

The dance starts, and she watches, transfixed as the pairs walk towards each other, meeting in the middle in an embrace. Almost immediately the dresses flutter in the air, twirling. There’s an admiring exclamation from somewhere in the crowd, Jas happily clapping along to the rhythm. She looks at Sam, all but drinking up Penny’s laughing face. She looks at Abigail, tightly holding on to Sebastian’s shoulders. She looks at her friends dancing with the girls they have a crush on, and something in her chest rips apart.

“Hey,” Shane says. “Wanna get out of here?”

She nods wordlessly, and he takes her hand. No one looks at them, as they discreetly make their way behind everyone else. Once out the field, Shane breaks into a run through the woods. They stop in a clearing, both breathing hard from their run, and Shane grins at her, before straightening his back, walking purposefully her way and deciding to kiss her. It’s hard and rough, much like he’s been handling her until now too, but she still moans.

His hands are already moving at pulling his belt apart, and he takes her hands and moves them towards his dick.

“Come on, play with it,” he whispers breathlessly, as he’s pulling apart her scarf for a second time today, mouth finding the tender skin, reinforcing the fading marks. She’s feeling needy herself, she’d like him to shove down her panties and eat her out, but she makes do with moving her legs one against the other, seeking some kind of friction, as her hands are moving from his tip towards his balls, slower at the beginning, and faster once he starts grunting in her ear, pumping into her hands.

Then, he grabs at her hair, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from yelping.

“On your knees,” he says, already pushing his weight on her shoulders, and more or less willingly, she gets to the ground. The uneven dirt hurts her skin, and yet she has to ignore it, because Shane is already guiding his dick with his hands towards her lips. She forces herself to open her mouth, hopes he’ll better get down to do the same thing for her.

Her mouth is warm, and she’s fucking good at what she’s doing, sucking hard and taking him all in, like a good bitch, even if tears are forming at the corner of her eyes and her throat is burning. He pulls out, just to slam, hard, back inside her wet, welcoming hole – and in just three shoves, he comes undone, half coming in her mouth, half out just so he can have his fantasy of his cum leaking on her face.

Her dress is stained, and almost all her arousal is out of her. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, presses a palm against the painful strain in her jaw. Shane hurries to put his now flailing dick back inside his pants, and he’s not helping her back up.

“Gotta go,” he says, and he’s patting down his pants, where she held onto and left some creasing.

“What?” she asks, suddenly annoyed. “What about me?”

“Solve it yourself, princess.”

He starts walking away. She screams after him.

“Oh, fuck you!”

“My pleasure, next time!” he shouts back, but he doesn’t stop, as he’s making his way back towards the festival.

She shoves the middle finger up in the air, stomping her feet at the same time, shrieking.

“You fucking asshole!”

He chuckles at her tantrum, but he’s spent and satisfied, while she’s there frustrated and fucked over, so he’s not bothering to take her too seriously.

There’s no way she can go back there without everyone else figuring out exactly what she’s been up to. Of course, Shane looks no different than his usual, maybe he’s even surrounded by some post-orgasm glow, but there’s some bleeding from one of her knees, his now dry cum on the front of her dress, and her hair is nothing but a mess. She can’t believe how fucking stupid she can be, and how she fell again in the same old game of “I give you some attention, you give me some sex” that she’s been playing for ages now. It seems like habits don’t change, no matter if she’s in Zuzu City or Pelican Town.

And for what? Just because she felt lonely and jealous, because she felt like no matter how much she’ll try, she’ll never be anything but a passing fancy to these people that know each other inside out?

She makes her way towards her farm stomping her feet, swearing at Shane and mumbling curses all the way. Once back, she draws herself a hot bath and, in the tub, finally somewhere safe, she touches herself, moans out into the air a name she doesn’t dare to even say out loud, and thinks of someone who never even looked at her in any way to indicate she might want her too.

So, she must make do with fucking Shane?

But as she succumbs to her orgasm, moving lower into the water, maybe she can just order a dildo online and leave it at that.

*** 

On the first summer days, she takes up fishing. She buys a bottle of mead, because she’s heard from mayor Lewis that’s the favourite drink of their local fishermen, and she goes down the beach to beg.

She wants to learn fishing, she says. Just a couple of lessons, whenever he can leave his store and he’s willing to – she really just wants some new hobbies. It’s dreadfully awful to have only three functional TV channels, and only a dozens of books. Even Max is just a dog, and there’s a limitation to what he is capable of. Willy is funny and wise in the way only old men who love the sea can be, but he’s patient in his explanations – and sure enough, very soon, she catches her first fish.

She takes a picture of it on her phone, proud of her achievement. She sends it to Sam, to boast a bit and to annoy him, because he’s currently stuck at his part-time job. Then she goes shell hunting, because she’s too giddy to do any actual work. The villagers recently rebuilt the small bridge on the beach, and it’s lovely to get to take a walk like this. She wants her house to have the same fresh feeling, so she visits Robin for an upgrade.

And she knows she’s paying for the work, but with Robin, she feels like she’s asking for a favour, so she must give something back. And because she feels guilty, for having thought so angrily and jealously about Sebastian and his life, she wants to say sorry in a way, even if he has no way of knowing why she’s doing it in the first place.

Robin’s outside the house, just having come back from an exercise class at Caroline’s. She greets her visitor just a bit more strained than usual, and well – there’s no doubt that if there’s a gossip mill in the town, that’s probably the weekly gathering of middle-aged wives.

The farmer sighs, agrees to wait in the house while Robin takes a shower, before they can discuss about work.

“Is Sebastian home?” she asks, and the older woman makes a dismissive sign with her hand, which means she can go and check for herself.

The door to his room is slightly open, and he actually asks her to come in when she knocks. She greets him from the doorway, suddenly shy when he speaks, suddenly guilty that she’s interrupting him. She sits down on the couch, starts by watching him work, and then eventually she gets distracted by the posters on his walls, and the huge book collection he is showcasing on his shelves. It’s work that she’s familiar with, the stuff she liked to read before, when she used to have time for her hobbies, about worlds that she could escape to only by reading about them in books, featuring magic and dragons and robots.

He doesn’t seem to mind her looking around, as long as she’s quiet. Then, he eventually finishes, and sighs, stretching out his arms.

“Sorry about that, had to finish what I was working on.”

“Ah,” she nods. “And what is that?”

“I do freelance programming,” he answers. “I just want to save up enough to move from here. You know, if I’d gone to college, I’d probably be making six figures right now… but I just don’t want to be part of that corporate rat race, you know?”

“As a rat,” she says, a smile already on her face, “I totally agree with you.”

He looks at her; this is the first hint he gets – of something more about her. He’s heard from Sam, of course, about her actual job in the city, but it’s different to know it from her, to know he has her trust, to hear the defeat behind her voice, even as she tries to hide it with humour.

Then the moment is broken, the ping from his IM breaking the companionable silence between them. Normally, he’d have to explain to people why he is not in the mood to meet up with others, his introversion something out of a freak show with the villagers, but she just nods at him in understanding.

But the next interruption is almost brutal, Robin returning to pass on Abigail’s message, so filled with dismissal at his work, and indifference at his preferences. The easy air about him, as he was talking about a work he clearly loves and his dreams, is now entirely stifled – and instead he, defeated, just accepts all of this, even if he complains. She’d like to press her finger to the frown on his forehead.

This situation makes her blood boil, though: because she’s been in his exact spot. She’s had people look down at her choices for as long as she’s decided to walk her path, out there in the city – and now that she knows what it’s like not to, she can’t take to be the witness to it happening in front of her. Of course, some people will always have something to say, but it should be different with those considered friends – considered family, no?

From the kitchen upstairs, Robin is calling out her name – now, suddenly, she doesn’t really want to go, especially when she knows her presence is soon to be replaced by someone else’s. So, she acts daringly. She touches his arm, as she raises to go:

“You know, I think you’re doing an amazing job, especially considering your conditions. And trust me, it really is better than being a clog in the corporate system, and your work is important, even if it’s important for you only.”

As soon as she came, she’s gone and he loses his chance of asking for more. She left behind another sloppily packed present on his desk, a piece of quartz inside. He gets up, moves to put it up on his shelves – and shit, he wonders if she noticed the other stuff she’s given him, up there.

 ***

So Robin starts coming around with her carpenter tools, sometimes so early in the morning that she’s welcoming her still in her Disney pyjamas. They drink instant coffee, warm this time – and they discuss recipes that she’d like to try in her new kitchen, or the kind of animals she’ll grow in the barn. She learns that Robin loves goat cheese, and she shares that she absolutely hates peppers. She asks about Sebastian and Maru’s childhoods, she tells of her grandpa’s favourite magic trick.

The sound of Robin’s hammer accompanies her through her motions, as she’s ploughing the land for the summer crops. She didn’t really understand how lonely she has been all these months, just going through what she has to do. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if just for a few stolen minutes.

Sebastian drops by during his breaks sometimes, to bring his mother’s lunch, and both women nag at him so much that he ends up eating with them, Max nestled at his feet under the table.

Once, she walks back with him towards the town; she needs to drop by Pierre’s, to order some kitchen utensils – and by Lewis’ house, to leave him a note with info on her next batch of syrup and honey, that she sells for some good prices. He strains himself to walk in a pace that matches hers, even if he just wants to hurry home and take a nap.

She noticed, how tired he looks lately: hair more dishevelled, the slight stubble on his chin, the dark under his eyes. She knows, from Robin, that he spent even more time than usual in his room, refusing to meet even Abigail or Sam. She’d like to press her palm on his forehead, check for any signs of sickness.

“Are you working a lot these days?” she asks, fumbling with the edge of her t-shirt, feeling shy and worried that she might be overstepping.

“Had a tight deadline, but it’s over now.”

He pushes the hair out of his eyes with his hand, pats the pockets of his jeans with the other. He takes out his cigarettes, and then swears.

“Shit, do you have a lighter?”

In fact, she does. Sometimes, when she goes to the mines, her flashlight flickers and dies out, so she started the habit of carrying candles on her expeditions, and always a lighter in her pocket. She offers the fire; she has to stand on her tiptoes and he has to bend down to make it work.

Sebastian looks at her; she’s determinedly staring at the ground. They’re so close that even in the summer heat, she can feel his breathe on her cheek. Once the cigarette is lit, she almost scrambles away, pressing her palms to her cheeks, complaining about the hot weather.

She starts walking faster, afraid of what she might do if Sebastian looks into her face. There’s a small smile on his face that she can’t notice.

 ***

Pierre’s store is more of a general hangout spot for his daughter, though – Maru is eating her lunch with Abigail in a corner, and she waves at the two of them as she turns towards the counter. Of course, Pierre convinces her to buy several types of flower seeds – and she walks around the town with those in her arms. She thinks she might actually be his best customer. Or easiest, which in his case, it is one and the same thing.

That’s how she meets Evelyn: in the town square, taking care of the flowers. In truth, she never stopped to think about who maintains the town, and now she seems to have her answer. There are many people around; Penny with the kids, playing in the water fountain. Mayor Lewis and Harvey discussing in front of the clinic, Gus sticking a request on the board.

But the old lady spots her shopping, and sits her down on a bench, where she lectures her on the proper way to take care of them.

Then, the tone shifts – and the older woman asks her about the animals she’s growing (they’re well), how she finds Pelican Town (nice) and what’s her favourite flower (hyacinth).

“You know,” she laughs. “I almost married your grandpa.”

She sputters, unsure how to take this wild what-if she’s presented with. Of course, if Evelyn would have ended as his wife, she wouldn’t be here at all. And still, her curiosity gets the best of her.

“What happened?”

“Oh, George – that’s my husband, dear – bought an old farm here in town and moved one day. The next thing you know, everyone was smitten with the new farmer, me included. And by then, your grandpa was already in the army.”

And when he returned from the army, he returned with a wife – that’s a story that she knows. Grandpa met her grandmother at one of the dance evenings organized for young soldiers, and if the story she was told as a child is to be believed, he danced with no one else that night, the next and all the other ones that followed.

“How was he like?”

Sometimes, when it comes to someone you love, it’s hard to consider them from another point of view than the one you were always familiar with. He has always been just her grandfather to her, yet Evelyn here has seen him growing, becoming all those things to all those many people: son, neighbour, husband, father.

“He always worked hard, stirred trouble wherever he went and loved this town like no other,” she says, a faint smile on her face, lost in memories.

That sounds like the old man alright.

“Th-thank you, Evelyn.” Her voice sounds a little chocked. Just a little.

“Psssh, please. Call me Granny.”

The old man takes her hand, squeezes her fingers in hers – and pats her butt when she gets up to go home.

 ***

“Hey, mom,” she says, pressing the phone closer to her ear. It’s the first phone call she’s making from the landline, and there are jitters all over her skin. She hates that she has to stay still, glued to one spot the length of the phone’s cable. Her brain goes in override.

“Darling!” her mother exclaims from the other side. There’s some shifting, the sound of a door closing, then a sigh. “How are you? How’s Pelican Town?”

She tries not to sniffle outright, tries not to cry that she wants her mother when she’s a fucking grown-up adult, but that really is how she feels. It was all okay, the construction almost to an end, her crops growing beautifully – and then Max gnawed at her only good pair of shoes, and the thing sent her into a spiral of self-pity. She really has no idea what on earth she is doing here.

Instead, she asks: “Did you like living here?”

She is grandpa’s only living child. After her older brother’s death, she simply packed her stuff and moved to a shitty dorm in city, got married in two months and had her almost immediately after. Nowadays, her father is drowning in alcohol and her mother is drowning in work – and she wonders if the first coping mechanism may be more useful than the latter, though her last experience seems to point to a no.

“No,” her mother says. “But depends on what you’re chasing, or what you’re running away from. So, do you like living there?”

She tugs at the phone cord, shifts on spot, looks at Max sleeping a few feet away.

“M-maybe? I don’t know.”

“That’s not a no,” her mother says, ending the call immediately afterwards.

She sits on the same spot, with the tone dead in the background for a very long time, just staring out the window at the setting sun.

 ***

With the new barn built, she visits Marnie about filling it with the appropriate animals. She’d like a sheep, just because she thinks knitting would be a useful hobby to pick up by winter. Maybe a goat, so she can make cheese and thank Robin properly for all the overtime work she put in finishing her house so early.

Jas is out with Vincent, but before discussing the price of the animal, Marnie hands her the straw hat and her picnic mat. She burns as she takes those from her, not knowing what to say. It’s been two weeks since she ran from the town’s celebration, and even now, she burns with the shame of that day. She starts looking around.

“He’s not-”

“At work, dear,” she says, and finally she starts calculating and writing down something at her desk.

“So you know.”

“Everyone knows,” she says and sounds forcefully cheerful, although she must understand what weight her words have, because the farmer is slouching in a chair, head hanging in her hands.

“There’s nothing going on,” she wails, looking up at Marnie, begging her to believe her – even if she’s just a stranger, asking for a bias against her own blood relative.

“Nothing going on anymore?” Marnie corrects, moves to pat her on the shoulder, signalling at the same time for the young woman to follow her. She nods her head, defeated, and Marnie has to wonder what exactly did this hard-working farmer see in her drunk nephew. She feels relieved to know that she put an end to it. Maybe exactly because she got involved with her good for nothing boy that she feels a bit more forgiving towards her.

She talks her in getting another chicken too, as an apology for having fucked around with her nephew. She doesn’t have the heart to correct this motherly woman that it was, in fact, the other way around. But either way, she’s forgotten.

She knows that because the next day, Penny calls her and asks her to spend the day together with the kids on the beach. She shouldn’t be that surprised to see Sam there too.

 ***

She asks everyone she gets along with over, after the house expansion is finished. She spent most morning just preparing various recipes, to fit everyone’s taste. Penny arrives first, dropping an apple pie on her kitchen counter and moving around the house to admire Robin’s work. She’s been thinking of doing something about her trailer-living situation for a while.

Abigail and Maru arrive together, with a plate of Robin’s spaghetti. Her and Demetrius decided it’s better to skip the evening, seeing how everyone else there is the same age as their children. She learns that Abigail is supposed to start her second year of university in autumn, and that Maru is going to do her master’s in astrophysics.

She whistles appreciatively, makes fun of her literature degree on the way. The two then huddle together in a corner of the porch, feeding Max stray bits of food and cooing at him when his tail starts wagging.

Sam and Sebastian arrive the last, each carrying a board game in their hands. It’s smart thinking on their side, because she’s not sure what she would have entertained her guests with otherwise. They huddle around the table, filling up plates with at least five different food recipes, passing iced tea and lemonade around. Abigail has this perfect skill of being able to imitate Lewis’ announcement voice perfectly, which in turn makes Sam snort his drink out of his noise. It makes everyone else lose it, and afterwards there’s no awkwardness hanging between them.

Penny helps Sam clean up in the kitchen, and they’re gone for way longer than necessary, though everyone else at the table is polite enough not to comment on it. Abigail and Maru, sitting one across the other, keep looking at each other while the other is not looking, and Abigail might be eating so much chocolate cake that she risks getting sick.

Sebastian sits next to her, smiling softly at a story that Penny is telling, from their time together in high-school. She should, technically, feel left out of the loop, but each time she mentions someone unknown, or a habit they used to have as a teenage group, Sebastian leans over closer to her, and whispers explanations into her ear. His voice, low and smooth, makes her feel like she’s melting down her chair.

Sam and Sebastian go out for a smoke, and she’s following them too, asking for a cigarette from Sebastian, letting her lighter pass around in a circle. The sun has already set, and there’s only the soft buzzing sound of her lamp in the air. The boys are talking about their rehearsal schedule, ask her over sometime, which she happily agrees to.

“Hey,” Sam says, kicking at her leg with his shoe. “Are you single?”

“What the fuck?!”

Sam raises his hands in the air, talking with his cigarette between his teeth. “Don’t shoot the messenger!”

She was ready to punch his elbow, but is now lowering her arm, frowning at him. Behind Sam, Sebastian continue smoking, refusing to get himself involved in this mess.

“Whose messenger?” she asks, though there’s a teasing edge in her voice, clearly proving that she doesn’t believe anything else but his own curiosity brought him to this rudeness.

“Look man – uhm, woman I guess, we’re all friends here, no judgement zone.”

“You just laughed at Maru for liking math two minutes ago!” she points out, this time her kicking his leg.

“You can just not answer the question,” Sam says, pacifying, turning towards Sebastian to offer him his lighter, as he’s already on his second cigarette.

“No, it’s fine.” She feels embarrassed for causing a scene, when it’s not even such a big deal. “I am single.”

She starts walking a bit away, making it seem like she’s inspecting the shrub just next to the stairs.

“So no Shane?” this time it’s Sebastian asking, which is surprising because she did not expect him to care.

“No Shane,” she confirms, her voice a bit weaker than she intended it to be.

Sam punches the air in a victorious movement, grinning at her.

“Thank God, that guy’s a fucking asshole.”

He shivers a bit in the cold night air, wearing only a t-shirt, and with a goodbye thrown over his shoulder, he goes back inside. Sebastian moves his hand in the air a bit, gesturing to his unfinished smoke, but she’s still not making a move to go back.

“But him and Penny… totally a thing, right?”

“Totally,” Sebastian says, and they both burst out laughing.

***

When Abigail phoned to tell her about Luau, she actually mostly whined that summer festivals are the most boring ones, because everyone is so busy tending to crops and making the most out of the long days. The farmer herself was actually taking a break, at the height of the summer heat, with a glass of iced water, but counting down the minutes before she’d be back in the garden, pulling out the weeds and gathering ripened fruits.

She still gets invited to Luau with everyone else; somewhat of a temporary, potentially forever fixture to their group. There’s a gaping hole opening in her stomach when she thinks of this, anxiety bubbling all inside her body making her feel sick. She feels like something terrible surely must happen soon, considering how much joy she gets from all these people.

She has sent some stuff to mayor Lewis, to add to the potluck soup: fresh tomato, some mushrooms, basil. But still, the thing looks completely inedible.

“Are we trying to kill the governor?” she asks, as she’s carefully looking at the bowl in her hands.

Sebastian laughs, turning his upside down in the sand. She’d really like to do the same thing.

“It’s tradition!” Maru explains, frowning at her brother.

“Are we choosing governors based on the quality of their stomach?” she tries again, this time sniffing at the stuff. Its consistency looks absolutely… gluey.

Sam joins the laughter this time, and Sebastian pats Maru’s shoulder in some attempt at an excuse. Abigail is the only one who actually eats the stuff, though her face turns somewhat pale as soon as she is done. The governor looks like he is perfectly fine, and even praises their soup, which makes everyone visibly relax.

 ***

Maru’s birthday was a solitary thing; just another ordinary working day, celebrated only with chocolate cake in the evening with the entire family. Robin builds her another bookshelf, Demetrius and Sebastian get the money for a new telescope. No other guests are invited, though random gifts still find their way to her mailbox: a stray astrology book, a new case for her glasses.

Sam’s not that different, though they all heard the rumours that immediately after his shift, he visited the museum, and spent a very, very long time there. They meet on Friday night at the Saloon though, so that the band can play and the others can cheer. They’re spectacular, as usual, and when doing something they love, all three of them look younger than she has ever seen them.

Penny is at her side, an arm looped around her waist, and they’re both swaying their bodies on the rhythm of the music. Sam winks in their direction, though the redhead pretends she doesn’t see it.

 ***

On one of their river discussions, Sebastian mentions frogs to her once; something she’s been terrified of for as long as she remembers. But there’s just such a soft smile on his face, and his voice is so calm: and as such, she thinks to give it a try. Which is exactly why he finds her one day, as he goes to visit Sam, by the river bank, on all fours, staring into the water.

She yelps when he hears him calling out to her, fluttering her arms in the air in a panic. It’s that movement that makes her stumble forward in the water. She doesn’t know how to swim, but the water is low enough to not be a problem, but as she gets up, sitting on her ass in the middle of the river, she scowls at him.

“I hate you,” she says.

He smiles, and with the sun at his back, it’s the most beautiful sight she’s seen. He offers her a hand, which she accepts gratefully, trying to remain as dignified as possible, considering that her clothes are now stuck to her body and there might be some mud on her butt.

“What were you doing?” he asks, and she immediately reddens under his attention.

She mumbles her answer; she’s a terrible liar, so she doesn’t even try. This time, Sebastian actually laughs at her, and she crosses her hands at her chest, both indignant and cold.

“I hate you,” she says again, this time accentuating each of her words. But there’s no fire behind it, so he ignores her remarks. Instead, he unzips his hoodie and, slowly, places it on her shoulders.

“But-” she starts, already moving to remove it, give it back, refuse the help, her natural instinct kicking in. He hasn’t stepped back, and having him so close, she notices the subtle smell of his aftershave, the dark marks under his eyes. She wants to get on her tiptoe and let her fingers run through his hair, so soft from up this close. Then he speaks, the magic breaking, and she moves her eyes down to her shoes, shy all of the sudden.

“Sam’s living real close, so it’s really no problem.”

He’s trying very hard not to move his eyes away from hers, face burning red with embarrassment – and only then does she realize she’s wearing a white shirt, and she’s wet –

“Oh,” she says, lamely, moving her arms through the sleeves and zipping it up. “I… I’ll wash it and bring it back to you.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he says, before awkwardly saying his goodbyes. Sam will chew him out for being late, and Abigail will frown at him for not letting them know about this ahead of time.

But their new farmer will stand by the river bank for a long time still, looking down at the water, even when Vincent passes her by and laughs at the wet pool that dripped at her feet.

***

She likes taking the mountain path, especially during hot summer days: less people to stop and chat with under the sun, more shade from the trees, chances to see a wild bunny or a squirrel, maybe picking up some wild fruit. She learnt to enjoy these things, that felt like such a chore back in the day, when she was simply a child helping out her relatives. Maybe because, from start to finish, in everything she does for her farm, she leaves a part of herself in there.

She’s as familiar with Robin’s garden as she is with her own, and that’s why it takes her brain a bit to catch up with what she is seeing.

She didn’t even expect to see Sebastian at all, and especially not like… this. Sprawled under his motorcycle, the picture perfect of her dream boy from high-school. It’s then when it dawns on her that she might have some other reasons too, for visiting Robin today, for picking the mountain path, for going to the mines so often, even if she’ll never admit it to anyone else.

For a second, she hates him so much for having been so kind to her, for having taken care of her, for his beautiful smiles and his unending understanding. For having made her like him so much, when this recluse and silent man seems to dislike everything that she is starting to like lately.

She crushes the feeling coming up in her chest; the despair and the need to go and run as far away from him, before they make eye contact, before her beating heart goes into override.

Sebastian heard her approaching footstep though, and as he’s coming up, t-shirt clinging to his chest, she closes her eyes. God help her not to jump this man right here and now.

“Hey you,” he says, the corner of his lips lifting up a bit seeing her.

She waves, taking a deep breath as she approaches him, taking a seat on the outside bench. He picks up the tool that he needed, and goes back to work. She stays put right where she is, watching him.

“You know, it’s fascinating to watch someone do something I know nothing about,” she laughs, thinking of her useless literature degree as well, her dirt stained nails and her dead-end job back in the city, so opposed to his programming skills and the coppery smell of his motorcycle.

“That’s how I feel when you talk about farm upgrades with mom,” he says, and then asking her for another tool – it’s the round one with a yellow handle.

She shifts closer; he gets out from under the metal labyrinth of his bike enough to nod at her in thanks when she hands it to him. But he understands her feeling better than he manages to put it into words, especially since he’s been an outcast in the village for so long; heck he’s not sure anyone else but her even accepts what he’s working, let alone understand it.

But if there’s someone who can get it, it’s certainly the city girl who gave up everything to become a farmer. Much as he wants to drop everything here just for a shot at the big city. It’s the same strangling hope in his voice, that she’s detected the first time they met, when he talks about his short escapades.

He gets up, wiping his hands on a dirty old rag. There’s a dark stain on his cheek that makes him so incredibly cute, and yet the contrast couldn’t be more obvious with his muscles.

“You could come with me next time,” he says, and he purposefully looks at her, digging out her reactions.

She blushes, all red, prettily and opens her mouth to say something, closes it again. Then, with a bit too much eagerness, that makes her seem just a bit too desperate to do the right thing, she says:

“I’d love to.”

“Great,” he says, and this time it’s a full smile that he graces her with.

They move to enter the house now, the sun setting at their back, and he holds the door open for her. She has to squeeze by him, so close that she can feel the smell of oil mingled with his sweat, and the always present soft aroma of soap.

Robin is in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate for everyone; Abigail is over too, in Maru’s room, the two’s laughter loud enough to be heard from downstairs. Demetrius is in his office, researching something in one of his biology tomes.

She immediately moves to help Robin; now familiar with the layout of her kitchen, with everyone’s favourite mug. His mother yells at Sebastian to go and take a shower before even daring to enter her kitchen, which is exactly the reason why he moves closer to her instead, loudly kissing her cheek.

Robin shrieks, hitting him with the spoon she’s holding in her hand. Their guest watches the scene with a soft smile; she likes it when there’s no bitterness between the two, which is something that comes way easier when no one else in their family is around.

She presents Robin with her first goat cheese; it’s experimental yet, really I have no idea if it’s any good, but she gathers her in her arms anyway, thanking her from the bottom of her heart. She carefully places it in her fridge.

And while Robin goes to Demetrius’ office, forcing a break out of this man as they plan to drink their hot chocolate together, she’s tasked to bringing up the girls’. She knocks, but it still doesn’t feel like sufficient incessant to stop whatever they were doing, because when she opens the door, Maru’s in Abigail arms, having a somewhat lost look on her face. Abigail’s lipstick is all over Maru’s neck, and smeared around her lips, and both their mouths are pulsing red with the pressure of shared kisses.

She blushes under their eyes, hates to have interrupted what she just did. It’s worse than if they were having sex, because the tension in the air is so thick she can choke on it.

“R-Robin said-” she tries, but she’s so embarrassed that she just leaves the tray on the desk, and all but bolts down the stairs.

Shit, she thinks.

“Shit,” she exclaims out loud as well. She’s so wind up she doesn’t hear the footsteps following her, and she almost screams when Abigail’s hand comes down her shoulder.

“Hey, look, let’s be chill about it and keep it a secret, yeah?”

“Of course,” she nods her head. “And I’m really sorry…”

“Our fault for being daring enough not to lock the door. But in our defence, we didn’t think that would happen,” Abigail says, winking at the other woman, before moving upstairs, probably to calm down her lover.

The theme of her life is that she is a big, stupid, idiotic fool. She’s been jealous for months on a relationship that didn’t even exist, and now she feels guilty and embarrassed all over again for what she did when overcome by those emotions. She stands in the middle of the hallway, hating herself so much that she would burst into flames if she had magical powers.

Sebastian finds her eventually, grounds her back to reality with a soft touch against her elbow and a soft call of her name. She startles like she’s been shot, almost jumping out of her skin, before things start refocusing around her. Sebastian, after his shower, smells like pine and mint, and he’s wearing shorts.

“Come on,” he says, slowly guiding her back to the kitchen, where their drink probably went cold already. At the back of his leg, Sebastian has a tattoo: a man lying face down, ten swords hanging above his body.

“That’s cool,” she nods her head at the design, sipping from her hot chocolate.

“Thanks. Sweet sixteen present, teenage rebellion and everything.”

“I ran away from home when I was sixteen,” she says, and Sebastian rises his eyebrows, clearly sceptical.

“For real!” she laughs. “I came here, to gramps.”

“Can’t remember you ever being up here,” he says, but now he’s curious.

“Well, of course, he called my mom the second I entered the house, and next morning she came to pick me up, but still.”

Sebastian snorts at her story, and she’s beaming at him with the largest smile possible, having gotten such a reaction out of him. It seems like it’s so easy for her to rile him up, or to get him involved enough in what she’s doing that he can’t filter his reactions anymore.

He walks her home that evening; she insisted he didn’t need to go through the trouble, since she’s out even later all the time, but Robin pushed, especially since Abigail was to sleep over, so she didn’t need Sebastian to walk her home.

In the end, she had company on the way home.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she says. Sebastian is smoking again, and only shakes his head. They continue their conversation from earlier, about how they used to be as kids and teenagers, periods in time that feels very far-away. Then she tells him of her past job, how she used to want to kill herself every time she entered the building, how there was no more city around her, and just the clutch of overwork and need for money.

She breathes easier here, she says. She hasn’t seen the stars in years, she adds.

She’s looking up at the sky, but Sebastian is looking at her.

She’s seemed lost on that first day, overwhelmed as she looked around at her inherited plot of land, and he’s given her two weeks maximum to survive in there. And here she is, rounding on six months, looking like she’s always belonged.

She hands him his sweater, thanks him again, in that sweet voice that matches her face, but not her personality when she’s swearing. He wishes the road between their houses was longer, longer than to Zuzu City, so long that they could have the entire night at their disposal.

 ***

“You’re late,” she says, from where she sits on the pier, her feet just a few centimetres above the water surface.

She’s barefoot, and she’s wearing a thin and short dress, and showing so much skin that Sebastian is a bit distracted at first. Technically, they haven’t set a meeting time, but he is indeed the last of the villagers to arrive on the beach for the dance of the moonlight jellies. By now, the others are also grouped together, leaving her alone.

She pats the space next to her. He sits down, yawning.

“Sorry, I was up until 3am reading a new book.”

She lights up then, shoots question after question at him: about his favourite authors and books, hints at the volumes he knows she’s seen on his shelf. They decide to buddy read a book together, and the next day he finds her favourite novel in his mailbox, he sends his instead. His are in pristine condition, while hers are underlined all over, notes scrambled over the margins that he spends a lot of time trying to decipher, corners dog-eared. The first few are a hit and miss, then slowly, as they go through the volumes, writing long texts and handwritten note with their thoughts on it or calling each other late into the night, they start to figure each other’s state, collections growing on each side.

On Penny’s birthday, no one can find the young woman almost the entire day. For that matter, they had the same problem with Sam too.

On Abigail’s birthday, she knocks on the farmer’s door in the middle of the night. The other woman is sleepy, bleary eyed, and she knows that something serious is going on because Abigail doesn’t even make fun of her pyjamas. She opens the door, wordlessly. Makes some tea, as Abigail plops on the rug on the floor, nuzzling Max.

She passes her a steaming cup of tea, sits in front of her in much the same manner.

“What happened?”

It takes Abigail a long time to reply, and when she does, she stumbles over words.

“I-I came out to my parents. Let’s say they didn’t take it too well. Sebastian lives with M-Maru so it didn’t feel like the smartest move, and Sam’s mother already has enough things to worry about. I had no-nowhere else to go.”

She shouldn’t be this surprised when the farmer leans closer, wrapping her arms around her, squeezing her close. Abigail reaches up her hands, tugs at the pyjama top and starts sobbing. There’s a large wet mark on the other woman’s shoulder when she is done, though she doesn’t seem to notice it as she’s running around her house, pulling out a rolled up mattress and building a make-shift bed in the middle of the room. She’s gentle as she moves Abigail to her bedroom, helps her in bed, petting at her hair, and chanting it’ll be okay over and over again.

Abigail’s already asleep when she moves to the kitchen, scrolling through her contacts list. It takes a few seconds before the person at the other end picks up, and Sebastian’s voice sounds muffled. She imagines him for a second, face half-hidden in his pillow, dishevelled hair. Then:

“It’s Abbie.”

The next day, Sam and Sebastian show up on her doorstep at 6am with chocolate cake, and they barely even greet her before moving inside, slamming open the door to the room where Abigail’s sleeping, essentially waking her up. But they also jump on the bed, squeezing themselves in the small space, peppering her face with kisses, even as she screams at them to stop, that they’re gross. But she’s laughing.

Over breakfast (eggs and salad and chocolate cake), they discuss what they should do next. There’s enough space here for two people, and it makes most sense to have Abigail live here for a while, until things calm down a bit.

“Did,” Abigail starts, unsure, playing with a tissue, “Maru tell your parents?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, and he feels like he really needs a smoke.

“I guess it went well.”

Abigail ends with a laugh that resounds dry and bitter in the room. Sam’s leaning towards her, holding her hand.

“Your parents will come around,” he says. “They just need to get over the initial shock.”

Except Abigail, everyone else nods. It’s hard to imagine Pierre staying mad at anyone, let alone his own daughter. But Pelican Town is a small enough place that such a thing might take a long time to forgive in the eyes of others. After the guys leave that first day, Abigail spends the entire day in bed. The next one, she joins her host for coffee, asks about the pumpkin patches.

When the Stardew Valley Fair rolls around, she helps the farmer fill Robin’s truck with her products. The older woman hugs Abigail that day like she’s a long-lost daughter, which makes her cry all over again.

 ***

The Fair itself is nice; the trees around had already started to turn orange, and it gives the place a really cosy atmosphere. Almost everyone in town buys something from her stall, and Marnie even comments that she fits right in. She enters Lewis’ competition with her pumpkins, but she loses to Shane’s chickens, which is a totally deserved win on his side, though she hates to admit.

Abigail makes up with her family that day, because the second she steps in town, her mother drops a crane of jars, swears, and runs up to her baby girl to hug the life out of her, cry and apologize. Pierre is sniffling at his stall, next to her – and she passes him her handkerchief.

Then, because Abigail is Abigail, she kisses Maru in front of everyone. George whistles, loudly and everyone laughs, which ends any discussion on the topic. With this scene, the farmer thinks she has just fallen a bit in love with the man herself.

Shane approaches her, to boast his win.

“Congrats,” she says, though she is pointedly not looking at the bow pinned to his chest. Jas has already been over, stopping everyone and showing it off.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, and she’s glad the stall stands between them, because she knows he would have liked to be much closer than this.

“Glad you took the hint.”

“Is the freak gang that entertaining, little girl?”

There he goes again, with his horrible nicknames and that shit-eating grin. She hopes he’d choke on all the bullshit he’s spewing, some day.

“Yes.”

She sounds firm, serious and soft at the same time. There’s a small smile on her lips as well, and probably it’s that combination that makes Shane realize she’s entirely truthful. So, he laughs. For sure, he must find her stupid and foolish, and yet she only feels relieved as he watches him walk away, shaking his head like he’s disappointed.

As evening approaches, Sebastian stops by her stall. It’s almost empty now, most of her products sold earlier in the day. He sits next to her, smoking, looking at Sam winning the big prize at darts for Penny. She all but swoons.

Sebastian gets up, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

“Do you want to walk around?”

She nods, he helps her up. She asks Pierre to watch over the rest of her stuff, and when they move from stall to stall, her and Sebastian are so close that their shoulder almost touch, though none moves to put more space between them. She keeps stealing glances at him, as he explains to her about his favourite stalls, and how it used to look like back in his childhood.

They eat Gus’ famous burgers, and her heart almost stops beating when he leans closer, pressing a tissue to the corner of her mouth. He starts by looking her in the eye, but then her own eyes drop to the flutter of his eyelids, the curve of his nose, eventually settling on the plumpness of his lips – and his gaze follows suit, tracing the same path on her face. They sit in silence, staring at each other, until Gus’ boisterous laugh makes them both startle.

She mumbles her thanks, looking at her plate, too afraid to look at Sebastian.

They play darts too, though she only manages to hit the target only once, and only on its furthest ring.

“Sam rigged this game, didn’t he?” she asks, which makes him smile.

Sebastian pays for his turn, raises his eyebrows at her when she’s expectantly watching him. He throws the first dart while still looking at her, and it hits bull’s eye. She screams in delight, clapping her hands together.

He moves his hand to the back of his head, embarrassed at her reaction, even if he so desperately wanted it in the first place. He asks her if she wants any of the prizes, but she shakes her head. As cheesy as it might be, for her it’s enough that she can enjoy the fair, and that she can do it alongside him.

 ***

When she counts her savings the next day, it’s not as much as she would have liked. So she starts going to the mine again, because she can sell well everything that she finds in there, and for a couple of weeks, it works out just fine. Until it doesn’t anymore.

She knows the place is old, but the crack of the stair giving way under her weight was not an expected problem. The lurking animals and the unmapped areas, sure. But not the wooden step of the stairs.

It takes her by surprise, and she doesn’t have fast enough reflexes to find another footing, so she falls all the distance to the ground. She lands on her side, and there’s a terrible crack in the shoulder that makes getting up so, so painful afterwards. She’s bleeding heavily from one of her knees as well, and several bruises are already blooming on her legs and arms.

Her flashlight also went out on impact, so at first she is disoriented, her head booming with the sound of her fall. Then she gets scared, her heartbeat in her throat, and before she can even think more of her wounds, she forces herself to count up to 100, as slowly as she can, bringing her breathing back to normal, forcing her body to refuse the incoming panic attack just yet.

No one knows she’s in the mine right now, so technically even if they were to notice her disappearance, it will take a while until they find her. And it was already dark outside, judging from the last time she looked at her watch, which makes searching for her unsafe until at least tomorrow morning. She can’t just stay here and wait for someone to find her, even if that is all that she truly wants to do.

She winces when she finally raises to her feet. She’s unstable and everything hurts, but she’s most worried about her arm. She tried to pick up her discarded flashlight, but the movement hurt so much she left out an agonized wail.

Tears start biting at her eyes when she bumps into the stairs, after fumbling through the dark for it. She tries not to think of all the steps until the surface, and then her walk back home – and instead tries to take it one step at a time. She can support her weight only on one arm, and her legs hurt each time she raises them, the skin at her knee ripping open a bit more with each move of her leg up. She takes it one at a time, stops often to breathe deeply, give some part of her body some respite. She struggles even more when she finally gets to the broken stair, and she has to cover twice the distance.

When she eventually collapses on the ground at the entrance to the cave, she can smell the fresh night air, and she can hear the rustling of the leaves, and she starts crying. Somewhere down there, where the mine caved in, trapping workers under the stones and dirt and in unending hallways, is the body of her uncle. Of course, she could have easily shared the same fate today, if she would have been a bit higher, if she would have fallen on one of the sharp stones littering the lower floors instead.

She forces herself, again, to just breathe. But even as she makes herself stand up and walk the long way home, her mind is drifting further and further away, the pain now more dulled at the edge.

That’s why she doesn’t catches when someone calls out her name, doesn’t realize she’s not alone anymore until said person catches her arm to make her stop. Unfortunately, it is her hurt arm, and she shrieks, tears pooling at her eyes, as she’s stumbling away.

Sebastian stares at her, mouth agape, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. He moves his eyes over her body, taking in her state, though he’s unsure in some spots, if the stains on her clothes are blood or dirt.

“Shit, you need to see a doctor,” he says, moving closer again, but she flinches upon his approach.

He passes a frustrated hand through his hair. Dumbly, she wonders what he is doing out here, by the river, in the middle of the night.

“Can I touch you?” he asks. He’s still keeping his distance, though he’s looking at her in a strange way, like she’ll fall off her feet at any moment. Although she nods, this time more aware, more in tune with her surrounding, this time around he approaches more slowly, careful with his movements.

She leans onto him, sighing in relief.

“This will hurt,” he says, and before she has time to think about it, he gathers her in his arms, head at the crook of his neck, her good arm around his shoulder, as he starts carrying her. She just whimpers pathetically, at his chest, blushing furiously and trying not to overthink the gesture, or her weight, or the fact that they’re stopping in front of Harvey’s clinic at fuck knows what time.

Harvey answers on the second knock, looks at the state she’s in and simply mumbles I need my coffee, allowing them inside. Sebastian is still carrying her the flights of stairs up, before finally setting her down on a bed. He’s breathing hard by now, but he’s not complaining. In the light, she can see how wild and panicked his eyes are, how deep his frown is as he searches her body for wounds.

Now that they can see, her shoulder is at a weird angle.

“I’ll have to set it back,” Harvey says, sipping loudly from a fresh cup of coffee, sitting on a chair next to her bed. He looks up at Sebastian, checks the time on his wrist watch. “You can go if you want to.”

“I’ll stay,” he replies almost immediately, making her shiver on the bed, a movement that both men catch. “If that’s okay with you.”

She nods, pleading with Harvey to let him stay, to which he agrees. His job is not made any more difficult, since Sebastian looks perfectly healthy, the weird sleep schedule aside. She doesn’t notice when Sebastian moves, shifts so he can sit next to her on the bed, wrapping his fingers around hers.

Harvey descends like a shadow above her, snapping her bones back in place. She squeezes Sebastian’s hand in her good one, so hard that his bones crack, her fingers digging in his skin until they draw blood. But she only inhales sharply, letting out a string of soft curses, teeth grinding together in pain. When she looks at them, she feels only betrayed, because they both clearly knew what was to come, and did their best to make it as fast as possible.

Harvey hands her a glass of water and some painkillers, and only then does she realize she’s still holding onto Sebastian’s hand. She lets go slowly, smiling at him, patting his hand in silent thanks, though Sebastian cannot smile back at her.

“So what happened?” Harvey asks, moving on to cutting open the leg of her pants, cleaning up the cuts, disinfecting her wounds.

She speaks, evenly, though her panic shows through in some parts, and Sebastian rubs calming circles on her back with his palm. She leans into his touch, swaying in place, eyes fluttering closed, opening them again at a slower and slower pace.

“You should sleep here tonight, so I can monitor your condition,” Harvey says, and Sebastian rises, helping her lay down on the bed, covering her with the blanket, as she’s already fallen asleep.

The two men move downstairs in silence. The clock on the wall shows 4 a.m.

 ***

She wakes to Granny knitting on a chair next to her bed. It’s such an odd image that it takes her a while to recall all the events of the night before. Then, she startles upright.

“Easy, darling, all’s good,” Granny says, though she didn’t even look up at the younger woman.

She learns that Marnie visited her farm earlier, feeding her animals. Abigail took Max to her place, Penny came by with pie. And Sebastian is downstairs, on his 3rd coffee of the day, not having gone home since he first dropped her at the clinic.

Granny smiles to herself when the patient looks longingly at the door, her skin on fire.

 ***

Harvey keeps her for one more night, though she is feeling alright, and she insists so to everyone coming around to check on her. She thought Robin will pick her up, something that she agreed to after much pestering from the woman, but instead the one waiting for her in front of the clinic, leaning on Robin’s truck, is Sebastian.

“Mom had something come up,” he says, moving to get her backpack, filled with the stuff from the mine and some clothes that Abigail picked for her. He opens the truck’s door for her.

“I could have just walked,” she says, though her leg is still stiff.

He shuts the door on her, and until he joins her in, she has time to mull over what exactly she wants to say.

“Thank you,” she beings. “For everything and I’m sorry.”

She fidgets on the spot, as he starts the engine and begins driving.

“Why are you apologizing?” his voice is soft, the corner of his mouth tilted up just the tiniest bit.

“For all the trouble?”

It sounds more like a question,

“You know I’d gladly be troubled for you.”

She does not know that, in fact. She turns to look out the window, at the stretch of trees on the road to her farm, and she wonders when she became such a person to others.

When they arrive, she invites him in, but he politely refuses. She needs to rest. But he does walk back to the car, fiddling with the gloves compartment, coming back with something in his arms. He presents it to her, carefully wrapped, and watches attentively as she opens it, catching her reaction.

In her hands, she has the first volume of what she knows is Sebastian’s favourite comic.

Abigail will tell her, later on, that before he came to pick her up, he drove all the way to Zuzu City so he could pick a copy for her. So on an autumn rainy day, she makes herself a cup of tea, and curls in her bed, opening the book.

She takes her sweet time, searching every detail in the art, rewriting particular quotes in her journal. Then her thoughts fly without her even wanting to, to a particular someone she’d like to have next to her, to explain her favourite parts. She’d like to have him by her side more than that though, as she wakes and works, a person that makes it so much easier for her to just be.

She’s a fool – she tries to tell herself, hugging the book close to her chest. There’s nothing she can offer Sebastian that would make him stay in this village he so obviously loathes. She’s just dumb enough to have fallen for the man she cannot even bring herself to ask to love her back. But the image is now stuck on a loop in her mind: stray sun rays filtering through the curtain, and Sebastian in the door frame, with her mug of coffee in his hands, offering it to her as she wakes.

She tortures herself with thoughts like this afterwards, whenever she finds a moment of respite in her work, as she hurries to sell the last of her crops, to preserve the mushrooms, fill the sill with grains for the animals and the storage outside with wood.

 ***

The first time she gets out of her property after the accident is to attend a dinner on Robin’s birthday. In the town here, it’s not a big deal, so she feels particularly honoured to have the older woman invite her.

However, Robin sends Sebastian to pick her up. She’s on the porch, bundled up in her favourite sweater and a shawl, petting Max, when he pulls up in her courtyard on his motorcycle. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and as he moves to get her helmet, she’s only staring at the way his muscles are straining under the material.

He helps her put it on, clasping it under her chin, his fingers lingering on her skin, and they stare in each other’s eyes for a few long seconds. Then, he holds out a hand, helping her get up, and guides her arms around his waist.

She’s basically glued to his back, and she wonders if he can hear how loudly her heart is beating. He tightens his hold against her arms, signalling that she should hold on tighter, and she does, even though she closes her eyes to will the embarrassment away.

Robin welcomes her with an enthusiastic hug, and she’s delighted to see Abigail has been invited as well, and she’s now sitting next to Maru at the table, discussing something with Demetrius. She’s sent her present in the mail earlier this day, more goat cheese and a few quartz pieces, and the redhead thanks her happily.

When she passes Sebastian on the hallway, she stops for a few seconds to thank him for the ride, warmly clasping his hand in hers. Then just as quickly she lets go, joins everyone else in the kitchen.

Most of the conversation is just the parents dotting on the newly formed couple, though there is a passing comment of the pumpkin soup currently served being Sebastian’s favourite food, so she makes a note to ask the recipe from Robin the next day. There’s an anecdote about how Demetrius and Robin first met, though it makes both their children cringe at how young and lovesick they still sound recalling it. Abigail talks about her studies, Maru continues, though their degrees are vastly different.

The farmer turns to look at Sebastian.

“What about your work?”

The conversation stills, a bit awkward. No one ever asks what Sebastian is doing, since freelancing is such a grey area in their mind – though they fail to see that almost everyone in this town is the goddamn owner of their own work.

“Well,” he starts, playing with the food on his plate. “Actually I’ve got a promotion recently and a really big project coming up.”

She clasps her hands together, beaming up at him.

“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

Everyone at the table nods politely, Robin even congratulation her son. But he thinks of her question, and lately the answer seems to be no, because each of his successes brings him closer to leaving Pelican Town, and he’s not sure he wants to anymore.

 ***

By the end of the evening, everyone is more or less tipsy, made soft by the drink and the warmth of the house. Robin insists that she should sleep over, afraid to let her return home this late. She almost puts Sebastian and Maru in one room, but the daughter refuses so vehemently, that Sebastian instead just tells her he’ll take the couch. Their mother stares for a long time after both of her children, as each turns to their guest, and instead decides to retire for the night, together with Demetrius.

That’s how she ends up sitting on Sebastian’s bed, as he’s searching for a towel and some clothes for her.

“Maru is leaving next spring for a research program,” he explains. “That’s why-”

“She wants to make the most out of it,” she continues.

“Yeah.”

He understands the feeling; it’s why he’s more often than not out of his house these days, afraid that one day he’ll have to root himself out of this place, and he will leave many things behind to regret. And many people he will miss.

He throws the clothes in her direction, points her to the direction of the bathroom.

She’s feeling more awake after the shower, and she’s drying her hair with a towel as she enters his room again. She wears one of his hoodies, but on her it looks almost like a dress, coming down halfway to her knees, sleeves rolled several times over. The sweatpants are equally as large.

“I like your socks,” she says, wiggling her toes, an ugly, green gooey face dancing with the movement.

She’s way too freakin cute, Sebastian thinks, though he only smiles at her as he passes her to go and take a shower. When he returns, she’s snuggled in his bed, a comic book in hands, the sequel to the present he’s given her before. She doesn’t hear him come in until he plops on the couch, and then she looks up at him, cheeks immediately flushing.

“Aren’t you cold?”

He’s wearing a tank top, loose enough around the chest area that she can see his collarbones. She knows she’s staring, yet she can’t tear her eyes away from the skin of his arms, or the taut stretch of his top against his chest. When eventually, finally, she moves her gaze up to his face, he’s smirking, clearly having caught her in the act.

“I never get cold,” he replies, shrugging, though he tenses the muscles on his arm, and her gaze immediately snaps back there.

He’s outright laughing right now, which makes her turn her back to him, pulling the blanket over her entire body and mumble an embarrassed good night.

But she has a very, very hard time falling asleep.

 ***

“I don’t wanna go,” she whines at Sam, pulling at his clothes, dragging him away from the maze.

He just laughs, tugging her harder instead. His little brother scared her as soon as she arrived for Spirit’s Eve, and since then she refused to leave his side, on edge all the time.

The town is decorated in skulls and supersized spiders, and Abigail took to walking around with a witch hat on and a sword in her hands, which everyone agreed was cool but also relatively worrisome.

She swears, loudly, clinging even closer to Sam’s arm, when Sebastian joins them, carrying two glasses of punch. He chuckles, but still passes one of them to her.

“You don’t celebrate Spirit’s Eve in the city?”

“Well,” she says, taking a large gulp of her drink. “There it’s more about getting shit-faced in a club, and less about your heart going for a run when you turn the corner of the street.”

“Amen, sister,” Sam yells, grabbing her glass and downing it all in one go.

“Hey!” She punches his shoulder.

“It made you laugh though!” he says, leaving so he can get her a refill, and well, he’s not wrong, because now she feels way more at ease than before.

Sebastian shifts closer to her, for which she is grateful.

“Is it really that bad?”

“I just hate jump scares,” she whines, again. “And I’m sure the maze is filled with them.”

“You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, right? We can just sit on a bench and watch the skeletons.”

“We?”

He’s pressing his palm to his neck. “Well I’ve cleared the maze every year, so.”

So they sit, together.

 ***

Back in the city, she can never tell when it will snow anyway – but here in town, the air is crisp and cold for days before. Robin shows up one early winter morning, and helps her isolate the house as much as possible, around the windows and the doors, so that no cold seeps in, so that all the warmth stays. She might need to renovate the house next year, but for now, it will have to be enough.

Robin sips at the coffee she’s been offered, and pretends not to see Sebastian’s books sprawled all around the farmer’s house, on the kitchen counter, on the bed, next to the TV. She also equally doesn’t comment on one of Sebastian’s jackets hanging on the back of the chair that the young girl is currently occupying. Robin takes another sip, and smiles in her cup.

Back in the city, when it snows, it never piles; part car fumes, part all the people walking around doing their business. But here in the town, when she wakes up one morning, all she can see around her house is a wide expanse of whiteness. Max runs past her, jumps into the snow, comes back in so wet but so happy, that she doesn’t mind having to towel him near the fire from the fireplace.

But she’s left with too much time on her hands; she watches Queen of Sauce almost obsessively, following along in her own kitchen, surprised when her food is actually good. She starts knitting, phoning Granny each time she stumbles through a row. She reads, almost obsessively. And she does go to the mines, but for shorter periods now, scared of not repeating her injury, even if the Adventurer’s Guild repaired the broken stairs.

Then Sam calls her over one day and welcomes her to the world of DnD, him and Sebastian more or less forcing everyone else to start a new campaign with them. It’s the happiest she’s seen them both, so she tries to keep up with the characters, stops to ask about plot holes. They explain things in tandem, finishing each other’s sentences, for almost an entire hour, because you see, this race can’t have this magical power. Sam pulls out his guide, passing it around so that everyone can look up the kind of character they want to create.

That first evening together, that’s all they do in fact: filling stat sheets, searching reference pictures on the internet. And they eat Jodi’s delicious snacks, gossip a bit about Marnie and mayor Lewis’ affair, that the whole town knows about but somehow only the two of them missed this detail.

They turn it into a weekly meeting, rotating their meeting place through all their houses, sometimes the Stardrop Saloon in the days when they know it’ll be more empty and calm. They fight imaginary battles, Sam’s voice guiding them through cities and enemies and friends, saving each other’s asses and forging alliances. It’s the best fun she’s had since arriving in the town, though if anyone were to tell her this a year ago, she would have laughed directly into their faces.

They break the tradition only once, when instead they decide to go ice-skating. Each winter, if the temperatures are low enough, the lake freezes, making it a perfect rink. To be fair, it’s her favourite sport – probably only sport that she’s so excited to do, that she jumps on the spot as she waits for her turn to lend a pair of skates.

She’s looking a bit ridiculous, wearing 3 different layers and one of her grandpa’s padded vests, a beanie on top of her head. Sebastian finds her just really cute. She skates around holding one of Maru’s hands, Abigail the other – because she’s the only one who doesn’t really know how to do it.

Then Sam starts a game of tag with Jas. So they start chasing each other around, yelling when they’re caught only to start again. Penny almost trips, but Sam’s catches her hand and stabilizes her, even if he’s it now. Abigail and Maru skate around holding hands, working more like one person than two separate ones, though Abigail lets go only when it’s her turn to chase someone; and she’s fast as a flash, her turn over in under a minute.

She touches the farmer’s back, and she’s left in the middle of the frozen lake, trying to think who to go after. Her intention is to go after Vincent, his voice shrill with happiness when he realizes he has to run away from her, but her skates catch in the ice.

She only has time to gasp out a swearword, preparing to fall flat on her face. But there’s an arm around her waist, though the angle is awkward and her weight too heavy, so both of them fall to the ground.

She blinks, trying to make sense of the new position. She didn’t hit the cold ice, instead Sebastian’s body cushioned her fall. She’s on top of him, hands on either side of his head, and she’s staring into his eyes. She’s so close that she can feel his chest heaving.

“You good?” he asks, a hand moving to settle around her waist.

It snaps her out of it. “Shit, I’m the one who should be asking that.”

She’s trying to get up, though she’s embarrassed and fumbling, and her first movement just positions her ass on Sebastian’s thighs and crotch area. He shudders, inhaling loudly – and she can feel him stir under her.

“Oh,” is all that she can say, eyes blown wide catching his. Though there’s something more there: curiosity, and a growing interest.

“You guys okay?!” Sam’s voice is distant to her ears, though she waves a hand in the air, to both show that they’re okay and ask for a break from their game. Sebastian says nothing, looking up at her like a man found guilty of murder, face flushed, though he hasn’t moved his hand from her waist.

She grinds her hips, pushing harder against Sebastian’s body, watching in fascination as he’s squeezing his eyes shut, a frown on his forehead.

“Stop,” he says, sounding wound up and chocked.

So she does, rolling from on top of him, pulling herself to her feet, smiling when offering him a hand up. Though he’s not smiling back, he takes her hand.

***

“Happy birthday!” she shouts, when Sebastian opens the door to his bedroom, holding up her present to him.

Behind him, music plays loudly, and she can see Sam and Abigail arguing about who gets the last slice of pizza. She’s the last to arrive, but that’s also partially because outside there’s a real blizzard. Penny comes to hug her in greeting, and she high-fives Sam. Most of the time, they just drink and joke around, chatting about random things, his oldest friends telling tales of Sebastian.

After a couple of hours, Sebastian catches her eyes, motions towards the outside. Sam has given up smoking, being more of a social smoker, just like her. But since he got together with Penny, a fact to which they finally admitted after merciless teasing from Abigail, he quit.

They stop in the hallway, putting on their coats – and she hands him the present again, though he hasn’t noticed her coming up with it.

“You might find useful what’s in here.”

So he opens it to find a matching hat and scarf, in a dark navy. They’re clearly handmade, and handmade by her he suspects – and he’s touched by the time and care she had to put in her gift. Nestled between the material, there’s also a frozen tear.

“God, I-I love this. Thank you.”

She beams at him, obviously relieved. He puts the frozen tear carefully in the pocket of his jacket. She helps him with the scarf and the beanie, her hands lingering on his shoulder for a second afterwards, admiring him.

Outside, in the courtyard corner where they’re smoking, there’s a snowman. Sebastian almost feels like kicking it when she mentions in passing that it’s cute.

“I built a snowgoon but Demetrius made me get rid of it, yet Maru’s cute little snowman still stands…”

He didn’t mean to sound this bitter. She shifts, coming in closer, taking his empty hand in hers.

“If I just disappeared, would it even matter?”

He means it like a rhetorical question, just for himself – but she’s strengthening her grip on him, forcing him to look at her. She wants him to understand that she’s entirely serious.

“It would matter to me.”

 ***

It’s drizzling, a mix of snow and rain, weather suddenly warming up. On the beach, anyway, snow never piles up, and when Sebastian turns around, he finds her standing a few feet away, staring out into the sea. She is drenched, shivering lightly with each gust of wind, and now that her concentration has been snapped by his movement, she’s staring at him instead.

He gestures her closer, and she stops by his side. Now, closer, he can see that she’s shivering more violently than he initially though, and she’s certainly not dressed properly for the weather.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes, head leaning toward his touch, and he finds himself cupping her cheek without thinking too much about it.

“What are you doing out here?” she counters, blinking up at him.

Maybe it’s the absolutely pathetic state that both of them are into that makes him answer honestly to the question. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s her.

“Looking out at the bleak horizon… It makes me feel like it’s worthwhile to keep pushing on.”

He shrugs, trying not to look as serious as his statement. Lately, he’s been having more reasons to believe that same thing, but old habits die hard, and there’s a particular calmness in being somewhere where no one else is. Or, he thinks, looking down at her, almost no one.

“I just like the sea,” she says, and any awkwardness that he still felt dissipates with her admission. The water is raging, stirred on by the storm, crashing violently against the pier, and they stand in silence, his hands carefully petting her hair, pulling her closer when she shivers again.

“Fuck, do you want to catch your death?”

He undresses quickly, placing his jacket over her shoulders. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but it’s more waterproof than what she’s wearing, and also carrying his warmth. He pops open the umbrella he’s carrying, and with an arm around her shoulder, pulls her to his chest.

“You know,” he starts, his palm rubbing circles on her back. “I would normally feel anxious doing this with anyone. But somehow, you’re the exception.”

Her head turns, chin resting on his chest so she can look up at him.

“I want to kiss you,” she says, and Sebastian chokes on whatever he wanted to say before. “Can I?”

She’s on her tiptoes now, her lips so close to his that their breathes are mingling, yet she’s giving him the choice of covering the remaining distance. Which he does, hungrily, almost desperate for it, both hands cupping her cheeks as their mouths clash. The umbrella falls into the water, and yet they don’t care enough to notice it.

They stop for a moment, coming up for air, and then they’re back at it, and despite the fire growing at the pit of her stomach, the kiss is languid, exploring, tongue pressing against tongue. Slight movement, a change in their position to deepen the kiss, her fingers now playing in the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands at her waist.

He kisses her like he never kissed somebody else, and went hungry for it all this time. His fingers move under her sweater, and the sudden cold touch makes her break apart. His touch turns comforting, pressing against her skin, and she sighs. Their foreheads meet.

“Fuck, I wanted to do that for so long,” he breathes and she laughs.

“We are two idiots, right?”

“Big idiots,” he nods, and she takes his hand in hers, starts pulling him in the direction of her house.

 ***

She starts the fire in the house, as he’s slowly undressing layer after layer. In the bathroom, the bathtub is filled with hot water, waiting for him. He’s down to a t-shirt and his boxers when he cups her elbow in his hand.

“Join me?” he asks, voice a bit strained, but firm.

She can only nod, dazed, not trusting that this is not just a dream, afraid that speaking will ruin the moment. He sits down on the edge of the tub, gesturing for her to come closer. She’s standing in front of him, and he’s gentle in guiding her out of her clothes, letting them drop to the floor. He strays from his purpose sometime, to press a kiss against her hip, or at the tip of her fingertips.

When she eventually ends up stark naked, his eyes are hungry, but his touch not, as he guides her inside the hot tub. She sighs in pleasure, closing her eyes. She opens them again when she hears the rustling of clothes, to watch him undress. He’s a bit slow, a bit shy, joining her inside the tub. The water almost spills over. She tries not to think of his cock, the precum leaking. She tries to ignore the uncomfortable heat growing between her legs.

She helps him shampoo his hair, he washes her back. They go off track from time to time, kissing lazingly for a long time, his hands massaging her breasts, her teeth grazing his neck. Until she moans, a loud sound. Until he gasps, her name caught between his lips.

Then, with ease, he helps her out. They share one, large towel, huddling together until they reach her bedroom, giggling like children. They’re almost to the bed when he stops, looks at her.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

He’s a liar, because his cock is pulsing with want and she can feel him against her hip. She pouts.

“But I want you.”

He kisses her pout away, pushes at her shoulder until she falls to the bed with a yelp, hands wrapping against him, taking him down with her. She’s laughing, pleased with having him on top of her, when his mouth moves downwards on her body, kissing against her collarbones, sucking at the skin, biting at the skin, until there’s a dark mark behind. He throws her a pleased grin, moving lower yet again.

Sebastian takes one of her nipples in his mouth, a hand moving up to tease the other. Her hands immediately wrap in his hair and she gasps. He pulls at the sensitive area, with his teeth and his fingers, licking it better immediately afterwards, and she writhes under him. He kisses his path downwards, though his lips kiss at her hips, he bites at her thighs, always circling around where she most wants him.

“Seb,” she whines. “Please.”

He stops his ministrations to look at her, frowning and pouting, hair dishevelled against her pillows, her body flushed all over, his marks so obvious against her skin. He feels himself growing at the sight, though he smirks at her.

“Please what?”

She blushes.

“Please eat me out?”

It sounds like a plead and a question and a prayer and a command all at once, and he’s on her in the blink of an eye, tongue lapping at her folds. Her back arches, but his hands are keeping her in place – and he maintains a constant, slow rhythm.

Until he doesn’t, one of his fingers entering her in full, with ease. Sebastian chuckles.

“You’re so wet, baby.”

Her walls squeeze at the nickname. He adds another finger; watches, transfixed, as it disappears inside with the same ease. He starts pumping them inside her, and the sound of her wet pussy taking it all in is so hot, that he groans.

Buried down in her to the knuckles, he opens his fingers apart. She moans, pushing down, searching for more, more, more. He scissors her, spreading her wide – and his head moves lower yet again, lips kissing against her clit at first.

Then, he adds a third finger. He can feel her stiffen under him, so he pulls her clit in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, just as he starts pumping his fingers inside her. Now her hands are holding on to her sheets, and she’s mumbling some curses, halfway lost to her pleasure, moans louder and louder as he speeds up.

He raises his head just for a second, to chuckle against her heated pussy.

“Come, baby.”

So she does, and he continue pumping inside of her, letting her ride her orgasm. She still sighs when he pulls out his fingers, immediately missing the feeling of being filled up with him. He moves to pepper her face with kisses, petting at her now sweated forehead.

“You did so well, baby.”

He’s teasing her, knowing how much she likes the nickname. So instead she looks down between their bodies, his cock against his navel, leaking – and looking like the most beautiful dick she has ever seen in her life. It’s not the biggest one she’s seen, but he’s thick and she’s never wanted to taste something more than the cum that’d spill out of it.

Still staring, she moves her hands to grab it, her fingers dancing over it, starting with his leaking tip, spreading his precum all over his length, before stopping with a slight squeeze at its base. Sebastian shivers over her, eyes closed, mouth open in an unspoken prayer, because he’s not sure even god can help him now.

Holding his dick in her hands, she helps him adjust at her entrance. At first, he teases against her cunt, pressing his cock between her folds, rocking his hips back and forth as they both moan in tandem. She’s already dripping over the sheets again.

He grabs at her hand, fingers entwined.

“You ready?”

“For that dick? Born ready,” she says, chuckling, but not moving her eyes away from where he’s starting to push inside her.

“Fuuck,” he says, just as she moans, only the tip in. The stretch is painful, but so fucking delicious and she’s a blabbering mess begging for more, pulling him closer with her free arm. He slams inside her, forcing the rest of his length inside in one go, and she swears. He kisses at her eyebrows, at the tip of her nose, apologizing softly.

“Tell me when to move again,” he says, and true to his words, he seems content to just kiss her, tongue at her neck, words whispered and lost in her hair, but making her shiver nonetheless just because there’s the hot breath so close to her skin. She’s trying to adjust to his entirety of him inside her, not hurtful but not entirely comfortable just yet either, and his mouth now licking at her hypersensitive nipple seems to slowly do the trick.

“Move,” she says, and he does.

He’s slow at first, almost frustratingly so, pulling out almost entirely, before slowly filling her up again. She moans, drawn out sounds, with each movement – and she almost doesn’t notice when the speed picks up, when she starts moving her hips to meet his actions. They’re a mess of grunts and moans, gasps and swears – and he squeezes so hard at her hip when she comes again, the orgasm washing over her with an intensity that it’s almost blinding, that she’s sure he’ll leave bruises.

Sebastian looks like a man in pain, inside her as she’s coming back to herself after the orgasm. She kisses his cheek, hands rubbing against his chest muscles.

“Do you want to cum all over me?”

He almost trips with the haste that he’s pulling out of her. She’s waiting, on her back, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Sebastian rises on his knees – it’s embarrassing that he only needs two more pumps to come. Most of it falls on her tits and neck, though she’s happily licking every bit that she can reach with her tongue, swallowing it all like a good girl.

“Fuck,” Sebastian says, falling next to her on the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

She beams at him, getting closer. They kiss for a while, bored and tired and messy, teeth clanking together, tongue at the corner of the mouth. There’s a string of saliva between their lips when they separate.

She gets up, goes to the toilet, returns all cleaned up, before coming back to the warmth of the bed, dragging the covers over both of them. Sure, the sheets are dirty, but that’s a problem for her future self, because right now, all she wants to do is snuggle at Sebastian’s back, an arm draped over his waist. So that’s what she does.

 ***

When they wake, they fuck on the kitchen counter, the angle hitting her just right. Truthfully, half of her butt is in the air, her legs wrapped around Sebastian’s torso, as he snaps his hips up in her, deeper and deeper each time. She’s never been so glad she doesn’t have neighbours in her entire life. Maybe because it’s been so long on her part, or because Sebastian is really just that good, she’s loud – and she loves to feel him stirring inside her, with each of her moans and praises.

“So good,” she gasps, fingers digging almost painfully in his back, and he proves his point by ramming into her, ripping a sob of pleasure out of her.

He’s wearing a condom this time around, so there is no mess to clean up, and they drink their coffee afterwards – talking about this and that, not even skimming the topic of what they’re doing, or why.

He kisses her goodbye though.

And on Winter Star, while she’s getting ready for the feast with everyone else, Sebastian comes by. He welcomes him warmly, and he sits on the side of her bed, watching her finish her make-up and doing her hair, and though he doesn’t move, she keeps catching his eyes in the mirror, looking at her every movement hungrily.

“We’re not fucking after all this effort I just put in,” she says, pointedly plucking her lips and applying a bright, red lipstick.

“I want to take you out on a date,” he says, ignoring her childish theatrics, but shaking his head with a soft smile.

“Sure.”

She tries to sound nonchalant, but her heart is beating in her chest. As much as she’d like to have him bend her over the table and take her like a bitch in heat, she’d much prefer him being her boyfriend while he does so.

“Good, let’s go then.”

“Now?” she yelps, when he grabs her hand and walks her towards the entrance.

“Now,” he says. He helps her putting on her beret, she straightens the scarf around his neck. “I’ve already called Sam and told him we won’t make it to the feast.”

“You did? What did he say?”

“To have condoms on me,” Sebastian says, face serious, which is why it makes her snort.

“And?” she’s wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Do you?”

He slaps her butt as she’s getting out instead of a reply. She turns at him, the slightest darkness in her eyes.

They go for a ride, promise not forgotten. They drive for a long time, and when they finally reach their destination, he tells her to keep her eyes closed, keeps his palms against her eyes as he guides her steps.

When he moves his hands away, she gasps. Spread ahead of her, the lights of Zuzu City against the usual darkness of the night. Sebastian moves next to her, grabs her hand in his.

“I come here when I want to get away from everything and just… think.”

He’s been doing this a lot lately, ever since she came to the valley, became his friend. Torn between his dreams of the city and the familiarity of home, he came here often thinking about what he should do.

He’s fumbling with his cigarettes, before eventually lightning one. Leaning against his motorcycle, she’s still looking out at the landscape in front of them.

“It gives such a strange, sad feeling…”

She’s almost saying it to herself. She doesn’t understand why he is showing this to her, and she can only think of how much he wants to be a part of those lights shining in the distance. She knows, if he is to walk that path, there’s nothing she will do to stop him.

Sebastian gets close to her, slings an arm around her shoulder. His gaze is still fixed to the city out in the distance, but when he speaks, it’s all just for her.

“The city used to draw me in… but now I’m finding myself happier at home in the valley.”

Her head snaps up so fast that it almost hurts. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything, afraid she’s overstepping, afraid she actually misunderstands whatever is going on, afraid to hope too much.

He turns to her, knuckles slowly caressing her cheek.

“You’re the only one I ever brought to this place. You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”

She shakes her head; wants to hear it. He leans down, pulling her close with his other arm, covering her sound of surprise with his mouth, kissing her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to his kisses; he’s a passionate but patient kisser, drawing out the movements for as long as possible, biting and licking at her lips, smiling smugly and lazily at her when he is done.

“I want us to be together. For real.”

She jumps in his arms, the move making him stumble a bit, but they’re not falling. She looks in his eyes, the gaze as touching and passionate as it’s ever been.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

“Wha-”

But she kisses him.

 *** 

She’s obsessed with saying those three words. Now that she has the right to say it, it blooms out of her at his every gesture. She says it out loud without embarrassment or care as to whoever else can hear it. She says it as good morning and as good bye. She says it when he stays the night, and when he asks her over to play a new game together. She says it in front of Maru and mayor Lewis. She says it when he comes inside of her. She says it when he lets her borrow his sweater. She says it when he calls her in the evening after work.

It makes him dizzy with how wanted she makes him feel.

It’s the middle of the night and they’re waiting, alongside everyone else from the city, for the clock to strike exactly 12, and the fireworks to blast into the sky. She’s holding onto his arm, chatting happily with Sam about a cover song they’re planning. Her weight, next to him, is something new to get used to – but she’s always fitting herself right there with so much ease, that it seems almost natural.

The countdown begins, mayor Lewis’ voice booming across the square. At 8, she joins in. At 3, he does too. The fireworks blast with a loud noise, and she squeezes herself closer to him, her eyes to the colouring sky, her lips to his ear.

“Make a wish, babe.”

She closes her eyes, thinking of everything she wants in the upcoming year. He looks at her.

“So, what did you wish for?” he asks.

She tugs at his jacket, kisses him.

“You.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Still a Little Bit Yours (Part 1) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, bit of Tim Drake and Maya Ducard Pairing: jondami Summary: Damian broke up with him, out of the blue. It didn’t make any sense. But, as it turns out, there’s a reason why it didn’t. A/N: Damian and Jon are in their mid-twenties and no longer go by Robin or Superboy (but not really Batman or Superman either, Tim’s last line is kind of a joke.) Title, and maybe vibe of this part, is based on ‘A Little Bit Yours’ by JP Saxe.

Part One | Part Two

~~

The phone almost slipped from his fingers.

Damian…did Damian just say what he thought he said?

“…What?” He whispered near breathlessly. “W-what did you just say?”

“I said I think we should see other people.” Damian replied calmly. “It would be for the betterment of both of us.”

“Since when?” Jon snapped, anger flaring immediately, but instantly morphing into confusion and sadness. His heart breaking by the second.

They’d been together for three years. Secretly pined after each other for the two years prior to that. Had recently talked about moving in together. Had been happy.

Jon was so, so sure they’d been happy.

“Since…recently.” Damian hummed blankly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“And the thought of doing this in person didn’t occur to you in your fucking contemplation?” Jon snapped. “Christ, Damian, we were just talking about getting an apartment!”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I know this isn’t what you want.” There was a hint of regret in Damian’s voice, but not enough for Jon’s liking, so it only fueled his growing anger further. “I…I don’t know what else to say.”

“Oh, really? Three fucking years and this is all you have to say?” Jon hissed. “I know you’re emotionally constipated, Damian, but…god. This is low. Even for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not!” Jon shouted. A store clerk nearby glanced at him. And that was right, he was in the grocery store. He’d…forgotten. Forgotten the whole world existed, forgot it was collapsing around him by the second, as Damian hummed those words. “Because if you were sorry, you wouldn’t have fucking done it this way in the first place!”

He heard a mother a few aisles down murmur to her children to not use language like that. That people who talked like that were pathetic.

“I…I don’t know what your game here is, Damian.” He whispered harshly.

“It’s not a game.” Damian promised. “I respect you too much to play games with you. I’m just trying to be honest.”

“But you don’t love me enough to break up with me in person, apparently.” Jon countered. He closed his eyes, wouldn’t allow the tears to fall. “I…Damian, I’m going to hang up on you right now. I…I don’t want to say something I might regret.”

“That’s fine.” Damian promised. Then again: “I’m sorry, Beloved.”

Jon scoffed and pulled the phone away from his ear. He hit the call end button so hard the screen cracked under his touch.

…Great.

He stood there a moment, trying to take deep, even breaths. But it wasn’t working real well. Each breath was trembling, and it’s like his lungs suddenly didn’t work, couldn’t hold any air.

Did he do something wrong? Did he say something? They’d fought before, all couples do. They were getting better at communication, Damian was coming out of that emotional shell the League of Assassins put him in.

They’d kissed yesterday. Jon had held him in his arms, had kissed his nose and told him how beautiful his smile was. Damian had laughed and held Jon’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheek.

And now…now they were here?

“…Honey?” Jon jumped as a hand gently touched his elbow. He spun to find an old woman in an apron matching the store’s color scheme glancing up at him. “Are you okay?”

The world around him came whooshing back. He was in the middle of the grocery store. He…he was sobbing in the middle of the grocery store. Fat, ugly tears rolling down his face as he practically crushed his phone in his hand.

“Do you need me to call someone?” The woman whispered.

“No, I…” He gently placed his shopping basket – half full of this week’s groceries – on the floor and backed away. He clumsily ran his nose along his sleeve, a trail of snot left in his wake. “I’m alright. I’m…I’m sorry.”

He turned and barely stopped himself from flying out of the store.

~~

Jon laid in bed for two days, exhausting himself racking his brain, trying to figure out what happened, what changed, what he did.

He texted Damian, almost exactly twenty-four hours after the fateful call, but the other never answered. Never answered any text Jon sent. Or any call that he drunkenly made after that. Didn’t even give him the knowledge of being left on read.

He cried a few times, threw things a few other times.

None of this made any sense.

He thought about going over to Gotham. Walking up to the manor and banging on the door until someone answered. Thought about staging a protest until Damian agreed to see him, if the door answerer wasn’t said boyfriend.

…Ex-boyfriend.

Tears welled up in his eyes every time he thought of the term.

Ex. Boyfriend.

Jon closed his eyes, buried his face in his pillow. Honestly, he thought they were going to get married. He thought they were going to be together forever. He wasn’t ready to plan a life without Damian, not yet. They were supposed to grow old together, die minutes apart like in the movies. Holding hands until the end.

He didn’t lose Damian to death, like he always thought he would. He didn’t lose Damian to space or assassins or even to grief in the potential loss of Bruce or Dick. He lost Damian because Damian…simply didn’t want him anymore.

God. They weren’t supposed to break up after three years. They weren’t supposed to part ways in their twenties. They weren’t supposed to end things for no reason.

He thought he’d gotten pretty good at reading Damian. His ticks, his quirks. What upset him, what didn’t. He thought he was an expert. The world’s leading expert in Damian Wayne.

Apparently he was fooling himself.

He sighed, pressed his face further into the fabric of his pillow. Tried to ignore the memories threatening to overflow. Of he and Damian in this bed. Kissing, cuddling, lazing. Of Jon promising Damian the whole world, and Damian countering with the whole universe instead.

He wondered if he should call Kathy. Or Maya. Hell, one of Damian’s siblings. See if Damian had talked to them, if they had seen any signs. If they knew of anything going on.

He just burrowed under his covers, and kept his eyes closed.

~~

In the end, he didn’t tell anyone about the breakup. Not even his parents. There were intergalactic wars starting and government coups commencing – they had more important things to worry about than their youngest’s love life. And judging by the fact he hadn’t heard from any of the Bats, he had a feeling Damian didn’t mention it to his family either.

Just as well. They were adults. They could handle this as just that. Adults.

So he wallowed in self-pity for a few days, but eventually forced himself up. Took a deep breath, dried his own eyes and distracted himself with continuing his life. Focused on his job, on heroing. The world kept turning, even if he and Damian weren’t together.

His heart hurt less as the days passed on. Not by much, his heart was still utterly shattered after all, but it didn’t hurt as much to inhale. Didn’t hurt as much to smile. Didn’t hurt as much to get a text or a call and it not be Damian.

Damian never answered when Jon tried to contact him. The first few days were understandable, but now the texts were housekeeping. Do you want your shirt back? I think you left Alfred’s cat treats here. I have a box of your stuff and your apartment key, if you��re in town soon, you can stop by and get it.

And still, like always, nothing. Damian was always stubborn, but now he was just being downright rude. It’d been almost a month now! Surely if someone as emotional as Jon could somewhat start to get over it, someone as stoic as Damian had probably completely forgotten about it by now!

He huffed as he watched a couple walk by the park bench he was sitting on, taking the momentary surge of frustration-induced courage to hit the call button on his (recently fixed) phone and hold it up to his ear.

They wouldn’t have to talk. This was just tying up the loose ends. Getting rid of the sentimental things. Getting rid of things that didn’t belong to him. That was all. That was all.

But the line didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. And the frustration turned to hurt. Did…did Damian change his number? No, impossible. It still went to Damian’s voicemail, his phone was just off.

But Damian never turned his phone off. No hero did, and especially no one in the Wayne family. They were always on call, even when they shouldn’t be.

So, for Damian’s phone to be off…was he avoiding someone? Avoiding Jon?

He lowered his phone to his lap and stared at it. He was one of those people who put emojis in people’s contact names. Damian’s name was surrounded by the pink, growing heart, and the cat emoji that looked like Alfred.

He didn’t have the strength to take those away. Not yet.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there, and put his phone back in his pocket.

He’ll just ship Damian his shit, then.

~~

He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. It’d make him the crazy ex. The ones Taylor Swift wrote songs about.

But at least once a day, he found himself listening. Tapping into his powers and listening for Damian’s heartbeat.

He didn’t do it often while they were together. Mostly because while together they were almost always together. Physically. So he could just reach out and hold Damian’s wrist. Put his ear to Damian’s chest. Watch the pulse as it beat along Damian’s neck.

It was a coping mechanism back then, used to calm himself. When the world got too much. When his day was bad. He could just focus on Damian’s heartbeat in any form. Drown the rest of the noise out.

Damian’s heartbeat now sounded far away, but Jon didn’t feel like pinpointing how far. It was slow and even, and that almost made him angry. Damian was calm. Damian was relaxed. Probably sitting at his easel drawing without a care in the world, while here Jon was listening for him like some kind of fucking lost puppy.

Every time he listened, it was slow and steady.

Stupid Damian, he’d think as he tuned his powers back out, furiously go back to whatever he was doing. Stupid relationships.

Relationships were overrated. Damian was overrated.

~~

“He what?!”

Maya’s shriek had Jon pulling the phone away from his ear with an amused grimace. He laughed as he switched the audio to be on speaker, and absently opened an app on his phone.

(A…dating app.)

“You didn’t know?” Jon hummed. His friend had called to ask some questions on a man she was tracking, someone who rumours said was from another planet. Kathy hadn’t known of the solar system, so she was trying the next best alien. As they talked, something about a crime scene came up, and she asked if Damian could help, if Jon could give him the phone. He had to break the news. “I thought you guys talked like…every day.”

“No way.” Maya scoffed. “Once a month, if that.” Jon could hear the frown in her voice. “And we did talk about a month ago. Maybe a bit longer. He didn’t say anything. In fact, he told me you guys were going to move in together, that he wanted me to plan a trip back to the States for a housewarming party.”

“Well…life comes at you fast, I guess.” Jon chuckled bitterly, remembering that call. He was in the room for that call, dozing in Damian’s arms, half listening to their conversation. He sneered at the choices the app was giving him. None of them were very attractive. “Because about a month ago was when he called it off.”

“Huh.” Maya mumbled. “I’m so sorry, Jon. If I’d had known that’s what he was planning, I would have beat the shit out of him. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, for gods’ sake! What the hell did he willingly throw it all away for?!”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jon shrugged. This potential match wore a shirt that said Joker’s Biggest Fan on it, and Jon cringed instantly. “He didn’t give a reason. Just said that it was for the betterment of both of us, and that he was sorry.”

“Fucking turd.” Maya sighed. “I’ll call him here in the next few days, and see if he’ll tell me anything.”

“Good luck.” Jon drawled. “He hasn’t answered a single text or phone call since he broke things off. And I don’t know if that’s to just me or everyone.”

“You ask one of his brothers? Which one’s friends with your brother again? Jason?”

“Tim.” Jon corrected. He hesitated on this potential match option. Just stared. It was a woman. Dark hair, tan skin, standing in a desert. She was beautiful. And she reminded him of Damian. “And I haven’t seen or talked to any of them either. No cases have taken me out to Gotham lately.”

The next match had sharp eyes, ones that said they were smarter than everyone else. Cocky. That was like Damian too.

“Eh, they’d probably cover for him anyway. They’re all a bunch of freaks like that.” She grumbled. “Are you…doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jon lied, and he knew Maya heard right through it. “Time heals all wounds and all that. Better every day.”

“Oh, Jon…” Maya sighed sympathetically. Jon didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed at her pity. Not when the next person on the app was standing on a rooftop, flag tied to his neck, blowing gloriously behind him. Looking far too much like every hero persona Damian’s ever been. “Hey – I’ll be back in the States soon. And I promise, I’ll make my first stop coming to see you so we can get drunk and stuff ourselves with pizza and scream about what an asshole Damian is. Okay?”

The next match was posed in the photo in a fencing match. Damian. The next surrounded by Great Danes. Damian. The next playing a violin. Damian. The next wearing a Batman costume at a Halloween party.

Damian.

Damian. Damian. Damian.

He sighed and closed the app. Stupid.

“Yeah. That sounds like exactly what I need, Maya.”

“Great. It’s a date.” She paused a moment. “Love you, dude.”

Jon hesitated, because he hadn’t said those words since Damian. Hadn’t thought them. Hadn’t wanted to think them, not for anyone. Not for family, not for friends. Not for a single person in his life. Still left in his life.

“Love you too, Maya.”

~~

Jon wasn’t a dreamer. He didn’t know if it was his Kryptonian side, or just how he was, but he didn’t dream often. And if he did, if he remembered them, it was only flashes. Only later moments of déjà vu. Never full sequences. Never lucid.

But…this.

They were in Kansas, out in one of Pa’s fields, lying among the wheat. Damian was flat against the ground as Jon laid over him, kissing him as hard and deeply as he could. They both had their arms around the other, grips tight and unyielding. Like if one of them let go, the whole world would disappear.

He doesn’t know why, but it was a noise Damian made. A quiet moan, and his fingers digging desperately into Jon’s shoulders that snapped him out of it. Made him realize.

This wasn’t real.

He began to lean back, pulled his arms from Damian’s shoulders to steady himself. Damian shifted too, but only to hold Jon’s face, to try and chase his lips.

“No, I…” Jon stuttered, his body wanting to do just that. Dive back in and devour Damian whole. But his mind didn’t let him, forced him to continue back until he was on his knees. “We can’t.”

He got to his feet and backed up a step, half turning away. Couldn’t bear the sight of Damian lying in the dirt, shirt half open and hair disheveled, chest heaving from arousal and exertion. “…Jonathan?”

“You’re not real.” Jon almost whined, running his fingers through his hair.

“Is that so?” Damian scoffed. “Since when?”

“Since I know we haven’t been back to Kansas in like a year.” Jon sighed, turning back. “Since I just remembered you broke up with me.”

“Absurd.” Damian laughed. Jon glared down at him, watched as Damian stood, and wiped the dust from his butt. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Well…you did!” Jon spat. “And over the phone! Not even in person!”

“You’re not listening to me.” Damian scolded. He raised his sharp gaze. “I would never do such a thing.”

“…What?” Jon whispered incredulously. “I just…I just told you that you did! And I…” He snorted, shook his head. “You’re not even real. Why the hell am I even trying to argue with you?”

“Because despite what you tell those around you, you miss me.” Damian sauntered over to him with a smirk, and poked at his temple. “Now I need you to use that big brain of yours and focus on what I’m saying. What it means.”

Jon looked down sadly. Gently reached up to take Damian’s hand in his, and turned so he could kiss his palm, could hide his face against Damian’s hand.

Damian just smiled warmly, stepped closer into Jon’s space. Cupped his other hand around the side of Jon’s throat. “Please just remember.” He begged softly. “I would never do such a thing. Never.” He leaned up on his toes, and pressed their foreheads together. “Not to you, Beloved.”

Jon leaned into the gesture, and parted his lips to kiss Damian again.

But then he woke up.

He woke up in the dead of night, with tears streaming down his face, and the memory of the dream burning against his skull.

I would never do such a thing.

“But you did, Damian.” Jon sobbed, clutching his pillow, curling his knees to his chest. Because it felt like his heart was going to tumble out, all the pieces that it had shattered into were going to come spilling out onto his sheets. “You did.”

He didn’t go back to sleep.

~~

Jon let out a low growl as he stomped out of the café. That was a bust. That was a huge fucking waste of his time.

But that’s what he got for trying to jump back into the dating pool.

The girl seemed nice enough in their limited texting interaction. She was cute and not purposefully looked nothing like Damian. She was bubbly and loud, and also not purposefully acted nothing like Damian either.

(Totally not purposefully. Totally.)

But he’d just spent the last hour listening to her rant about conspiracy theories that were already disproven one hundred times over, and rave about how Lex Luthor was the best and coolest and smartest person to ever exist, because he was rich and going to get them all to Mars. She never stopped to let Jon talk. Never stopped to take a breath for herself either.

Needless to say, there’d be no second date. He’d frankly excused himself with a lie to get out of this one early.

(And she’d already texted him about how great of a time she had, and she couldn’t wait to see him again, despite still sitting in the restaurant ten feet behind him.

Jon didn’t like to ghost people – not like certain ex-boyfriends of his – but this one…he couldn’t wait to.)

So it must have been fate that he chose that moment to leave. Not a few minutes before, or decided to suffer through the rest of his rendezvous. Because as soon as he walked out of the café, he spotted one Tim Drake coming out of the building across the street.

Funnily enough, Tim spotted him at almost the exact same moment. Except instead of waving or smiling like Tim normally would, his face visibly paled and his eyes widened, like Jon was the last person on Earth he wanted to see.

Jon frowned when he saw Tim glance around, like he was looking for an escape route. “Tim!” He called before the other could do just that, glancing up and down the street before jogging quickly towards him. “Hey, wait up!”

Tim took a step backwards, like he was going to try to bolt, but in the end stayed where he was, waited for Jon to reach him. Quickly pulled his phone out and scanned the screen before pocketing it again. “Hey Jon…what, uh. What’s going on? How are you?”

“Oh…been better. But trying to stay positive.” Jon laughed knowingly. Tim didn’t react. “How’s the family?”

“Good. Busy.” Tim shrugged. “Lots of, uh…stuff to do. You know how it is.”

Jon nodded, and the two fell into an awkward silence. Tim pulled his phone out again, but quickly threw it back in his pocket.

“How’s…” And Jon didn’t want to ask, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Wasn’t desperate to actually know, instead of guessing and assuming. “How’s Damian?”

But to Jon’s the surprise, at the sound of Damian’s name, Tim seemed to practically deflate. He threw his hands across his face, began shaking his head. “God, Jon, I’m so sorry. I know we should have called, or kept you in the loop or something. But we didn’t want you to become a target too or get hurt, or…”

“What?” Jon cut off, gut suddenly dropping. “What are you talking about?”

Tim peeked between his fingers, eyes narrowed. “…What are you talking about?”

“I…I haven’t talked to Damian since he broke up with me.” Jon murmured. Tim’s eyes instantly widened even more in surprise. “I just…wanted to know if he was doing okay?”

“Damian broke up with you?” Tim whispered. “When?”

“Um, I don’t know a month or so ago?” Jon shrugged. “Why? Tim, what’s going on?”

“How did he break up with you?” Tim demanded, suddenly all but lunging at Jon. His eyes darted between Jon’s desperately. “Was it in person?”

“No, it was over the phone.”

“What day?” Tim asked, almost giddy now. “What day did he break up with you, exactly? What day did you get that call?”

“Uh…” Jon pulled out his phone, and went to the call feature. He scanned the list until he found the one he was looking for. The one that ruined his whole life. “The seventh.”

“What time?”

“Like three or four in the afternoon?” Jon huffed. “Tim, why is this relevant? What happened?”

“Have you talked to him since then?” Tim continued, undeterred. “In any way? Text? Call? Carrier pigeon?”

“What? No! I…I tried calling him a few times, to return his stuff and all that, but he never answered.” Tim suddenly backed away from him, running both hands through his hair, like a case was just blown wide open. For the third time, Jon asked: “Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, then looked Jon dead in the eyes. “Damian’s been missing for a month.” He said plainly. “He disappeared on the morning of the seventh.”

And just like that day on the phone, it felt like the world was being swallowed into a black hole beneath him. That the universe was disappearing around him, that it wasn’t real.

He could barely breath. “…What?”

“He, Duke and Cass were on a case in France. Without warning all three of them went radio silent. When we got there, we only found Duke and Cass half dead in a vineyard. They said they were attacked by a…a shapeshifter or something, lured them in by transforming into members of the Justice League. That they saw the shapeshifter and their crew dragging Damian away, but they didn’t see where to, or even what direction.”

Jon’s head was spinning.

“We’ve been looking for him day and night ever since. And when you didn’t come looking for him…” Tim winced. “We assumed he’d told you that he would be away on a mission, potentially for a long time. So your absence didn’t concern us. In fact, like I said, we were grateful. We didn’t want you getting wrapped up in this too, and potentially hurt.”

Jon was barely listening anymore, too wrapped up in what he’d just been told. That Damian had been missing since that day. That the reason Damian’s heartbeat sounded so far away was because he was, he was somewhere in Europe. That he wasn’t answering his phone because he was being held captive.

…That it wasn’t Damian on that call.

I would never do such a thing. Never. Not to you.

“…Beloved.” He murmured. Tim instantly stopped in his ramblings.

“…What?” Tim asked.

“On the call, when he broke up with me. First, he never gave a reason, which I thought was crazy. I guess…I guess it makes sense now.” Jon said thoughtfully. “But before we hung up. He said ‘I’m sorry, Beloved.’”

“…So?”

“That’s what Damian had me as in his phone. Not my name.” Jon explained. “Why would he still call me Beloved if he was breaking up with me?”

“…He would have said your name.” Tim said, the truth dawning on him. “The kidnapper wouldn’t know that. They wouldn’t know your name. So they called you what you were listed as.”

“And recognized that I was someone important to him.” Jon finished. “But…why? Why call me just to…break up with me? Why call me at all?”

“I don’t know. We can think about it later.” Tim was instantly back in detective mode, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because we can track where that phone call came from.” Tim wiggled his fingers impatiently. With his other hand, he pulled out his own phone, typing furiously with his thumb. Jon realized that’s why he was checking it so much, that’s why he was in Metropolis at all. He was looking for clues for Damian, anywhere he could. “And that might take us to where this bastard took my brother.”

“...Need a ride to the Batcave?” Jon asked with a sheepish smile. “…The sooner we get there, the sooner we can track this fucker and find Damian.”

Tim pursed his lips in thought, clearly not thrilled at the idea of including Jon, not after they all tried so hard to keep him detached, but eventually returned the grin.

“Get us in the air, Superman.”

[sweetestlamb]

I’m Not Okay(But That’s Okay)

Summary: Mun-Yeong accepts Gang-Tae’s harsh rejection and learns about love and life from unexpected friends, meanwhile Gang-Tae starts to realize what he had and tossed away and fights to win back Mun-Yeong’s heart. 

Genre: Healing Romance and then smutty smut smut. 

Author’s Note: This story started out as a revenge fic because much like my Queen MY I like to get even but then I started thinking, it should be more than just getting back at GT. So this is a story of realizing your worth and learning who you really are, without other’s opinions. Both of our babies realize their worth and find their way back to each other. 11k, my longest one-shot ever. Hope you all enjoy! 

Salty tears fell uncontrollably as she held herself, shaking like a leaf in the bitter winter cold. She felt as if someone had scooped her heart out with a jagged spoon, scrapping everything until there was nothing left. She cried, each drop falling and joining the oceans crushing waves. Wondering if this was how the ocean was first formed, the tears of those who had endured unimaginable pain. Weeping for lovers who would never return. 

You were like a firecracker to me. A one time event. 

Sobbing, she fell to the ground remembering her own harsh words, visceral and acidic on her tongue. She didn’t want to be a bomb, not anymore. She had gotten a taste of what love could be like and it was ambrosia, cloying saccharine on her tongue. With one small press of his lips to hers he had awakened emotions in her that had not only laid dormant, but had been beaten and hardened into something grotesque. He hadn’t healed her, she knew now that she wasn’t broken just a little fractured, a cast had been wrapped around her heart until it was ready to fully beat and pump love, but he had definitely woken up her emotions. 

Now, standing on that beach, the wind whistling through the soft strands of her hair, she clutched at her chest, trying to keep her heart from crumbling into pieces, holding so tightly that her fingers burned and ached from the pain. 

When no more tears came, and all she had left was gut-wrenching sobs, she finally let go. 

Then she started walking, her legs were heavy as if they were filled with lead but she pushed on, each step taking her away from the disaster site. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at the ocean again without feeling like she was drowning in its vastness. What was it about drowning that made you feel so alive? 

The cursed castle looms over her and the idea of being here, alone elicits goosebumps all over her skin. The coldness that had smothered her after his remorseless rejection made her bones ache and she saw her body fall to the ground, as if she were an entity outside of herself. Her body too weighty to lift a second time, she viciously pushes back memories of his strong hands picking her up and keeping her balanced. The ocean pours from her eyes. 

This is how Sang-In finds her, an empty shell of the woman he knows. Openly weeping on the ground, dirt sticking to her hands and her face ash-fallen, heartache visible in her countenance. Gone was her fire and brimstone and in its stead was ash and soot. She hears the footsteps approaching and hates herself for the seed of hope that starts to bud in her mind.  

“Mun-Yeong.... are you okay?” He whispers to her in voice akin to one you would use with a startled animal. Worried, that even the the press of your lips forming around harsh constants will send them bolting.  Arms outstretched as if he too, was waiting for the explosion. The wail she let out sounds inhuman even to her own ears, she can’t fathom that she could make such a sound. Cautiously he approaches her, over his shoulders the wide doe-like eyes of  Seung-Jae are shining bright, unshed tears glistening like fresh dew. Her rosebud lips curl up in despair as their eyes meet and she falls into Sang-In’s waiting arms. 

He exhales a short breath, surprise evident in the tightening of the muscles in his body. 

She sees the castle moving closer through blurry eyes, her tears so hot and pathetic on her face.  She never meant to give anyone this much power over her and he took it easily, until he was done and once again she was tossed away. She wants so desperately to hate him. 

She can only muster up the will to hate herself. 

“I’ll get you some water.” The chair he places her in, scraps across the wooden floors, the sound obscenely loud in the eerie silence of the castle. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Aching arms ascend up, crisscrossing on her shoulders, tap, tap, tap. The cotton balls begin to clear from her head, the fuzziness declines until she opens her eyes once more and meets those of the little art director. 

“Why are you here? Aren’t you scared of me?” 

She looks long and hard, eyes darting all over Mun-Yeong’s face. Until her heads moves softly side to side. 

“It’s hard to be scared of someone, who looks so afraid them self.” Her lips snap shut and Mun-Yeong feels the usual desire flow through her, scare her, break her, hurt her. The feeling of warmth on her hands yanks her back from the darkness, that swarms inside her. She looks down at the hand that encompasses her own hand on the table. Wanting to pull away and show her that all these hands know are destruction, they are only capable of pain and death. 

But. 

She’s so warm. 

Sang-In’s eyes broaden in sheer astonishment when he returns to the warm scene but he knows better than to comment. Knows that her hands will become razor-sharp, ready to attack if provoked. 

“Here’s your water.” He places the glass to her lips and gently tilts the glass, pouring back all the fluids she expelled from her body. Her eyes begin to droop in exhaustion, he looks at Seung-Jae and her small nod is the only answer he needs. 

Together, they carry Mun-Yeong’s complacent body up the stairs and tenderly place her in the large bed, its sheer size dwarfing her small frame. Sang-In gazes into her empty eyes and lifts his hand, suspended in time before he thinks better of it and simply pats the bed and silently walks out without a second glance. 

Her thick blanket is drawn up to her chin and the warmth almost brings the ocean back to her eyes. 

“Just sleep. “ Seung-Jae murmurs, no words of encouragement or of better tomorrows, just a simple command and again that warm hand encircles her own and she drifts off into a deep slumber.  She dreams of nothing. 

The sounds of morning wake her from her sleep, she lays in bed, still, comatose until she hears movement in the kitchen and she rushes from her bed. Running, Sprinting. Not bothering to get her slippers, rushing down the stairs, gripping the railing to prevent herself from falling, she can’t miss them swiftly turning the corner and-

Her heart fissures. 

No Sang-Tae. No Gang-Tae. 

Yellow and green bags, cover the table instead of hot soup, rolled omelets, fluffy rice, quail eggs, and steamed tofu. Disappointment cripples her heart and she wonders if it will always hurt this much? Will she have to cauterize every memory she has with them? Burn them close so the scars can remind of what everything she lost and stop her from ever doing it again. 

“Oh you’re awake, here we bought breakfast.” Sang-In presses a sandwich into her hands, sitting down to drink his own coffee and on auto-pilot she crosses the cold kitchen, all of its warmth sucked from the room with the removal of the brothers. 

She turns to look at him with a curious eye. Recalling all those years ago, as she thrashed on her hotel bed, apparitions of her mother haunting her dreams, the rigor mortis in her dead hands not enough to stop her from squeezing the air from her lungs. His fist hand banged on the door, before kicking the door open and shaking her from her night terrors. His face had been ghastly as he looked upon her own wet face, words caught in his throat and she had lashed out when he tried to embrace her. 

Vicious scratches like a wild cat, until he finally gave up and sat down on the ground beside her bed. Minutes passed before he started to hum a nameless tune, she had fallen asleep with his baritone hums soothing her back to sleep. After that, there was a minute shift in their relationship, her cruel words didn’t seem to land the same way as they had done before. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the very first time. 

He was looking at her like that once more. 

Then his eyes shifted and he picked up his own sandwich. 

They ate in silence and she vaguely wondered where the doe had gone with her big Bambi eyes and warm hands. But she didn’t inquiry out loud, people were prone to leaving. She would stop letting that shock her. 

Next day, Bambi as she had taken to calling her showed up. Containers of warm food tied in a bag. She forced herself not to think about where they had come from and instead, chewed the delicious food slowly savoring each burst of flavor on her tongue. 

This went on for days. Some days it was just her and Sang-In and other days Bambi- Seung-Jae was there, and sometimes all three of them ate together. She got used to their constant bickering about everything. On days, when one was there without the other, she noticed that they would turn with complaints on their tongues and ready to engage in a verbal skirmish before remembering that the other wasn’t there. She realized that friendship wasn’t always nice. You were allowed to bicker and rage and then deflate and carry on. 

She watched them do it and heard Sang-In’s words echo in her mind when she asked him about it, his face was as shocked as when she had asked him who he liked more, her or the two-faced bitch. He replied with a finger on his newly naked chin, “ Friendship is complicated because people are too. Anything good is always worth a fight.” 

Gang-Tae had looked like all the fight had fled his body that day at the beach. No.  All his fight for her. He was willing to fight for his brother but he had made it clear that she wasn’t worthy of fighting, of complications, she could be picked up for a good time and then abandoned when the show was over. She was temporary. 

She stayed in bed for days after that heart-breaking revelation. 

Only leaving to eat with Sang-In and Seung-Jae. 

Sunlight trickled through her curtains, as she got dressed. All black armor wrapped around her body. The sleeves of her floor length black dress, puffed up daring anything to get close to this dangerous creature. The bodice of the dress was almost too tight across her chest, molding the shattered pieces of her heart into some semblance of normalcy. She completed her ensemble with a large black netted hat that draped into her face, partially covering her eye and her towering black heels. 

Death, itself would shudder at the sight of her. 

Sang-in and Seung-Jae both perked up in admonishment at seeing her in something other than a dressing down. 

“Mun-Yeong, you dazzling beauty!” He sang standing, hands clapping together in joy, he walked around to meet her and saw that the frost that had lined her eyes these past few days had melted a little. 

“Where is my sandwich?” She demanded, humming in acquiescence when Seung-Jae bounded over to hand it to her, eyes lighting up as she informed her that she looked better. 

She felt better. 

It was time to stop mourning she thought ironically enough, whilst looking like the human manifestation of a funeral itself. 

“I have to go to a conference today, so I won’t be here for lunch.” Sang-In stated, pointed looking at his assistant and before she could read between his lines- you need to be here to have lunch with Mun-Yeong. She looked up and said, “I won’t be here today. I called the hospital. I’m going to teach my class today.” 

She didn’t miss the silent conversation that transpired between the two but her mind was made up. She needed to keep moving, staying still wasn’t an option anymore. 

“Okay, I’ll drive you.” Sang-In said leaving no room for argument, she wasn’t used to seeing this side of him. Did he care about her? 

The smile that he was brandishing made her think the answer, might be yes. 

The drive was pleasant, she watched the trees and foliage as the car zoomed past them. Cherry blossom petals falling as if begging someone to catch them. 

Her heart raced as they pulled up in the parking lot, all the times she had done that before flashed in her head, arguing with Sang-Tae about the radio and who should sit next to Gang-Tae all washed over her. She let it. Taking a moment to feel it. Before opening the car door and closing the door on it. 

“I’ll pick you up later.” Sang-In called, pulling out as Seung-Jae waved goodbye, soft smile spread across her innocent face. She ached to wave back but only nodded her head in affirmation, before gripping her bag in her hand. This was it. 

I can’t believe she’s here. Did anyone tell Gang-Tae? What if they run into each other? Do you think they’re still dating? 

She heard all the whispers from the nurses who seemed to have endless time for gossip but none for much less, she had the bruises to proof it, all except Ju-Ri who avoided her like she had the plague and that at least made sense to her, it was just like when they were kids. At least she was consistent. 

Her class had ended a few minutes ago and to her surprise she had missed the idiot patient with the too-bright eyes and endless optimism. Everyone else had nodded in agreement as she told them that “The Little Mermaid” was a tale of making yourself smaller to receive love, that love wasn’t gentle or unconditional but rather controlling and retraining. Trade in your values, beliefs and even voice so you could feel love’s tight grip and even then it wasn’t enough. 

A-reum- she recalled her name-  would have stood up and revolted against her and her bleak outlook on love, would have argued that love was a compromise and sometimes you had to make sacrifices for it but they were worth it. It was easy for her to say that when she had someone who thought she was worth fighting for, Mun-Yeong thought. 

She walked the hallway aimlessly, until her feet brought her to the cafeteria. The same one she had watched him eat in, so many people around him, unlike her people gravitated towards him. Like he had his own orbital pull, but was completely unaware of it or its power. 

Finding an empty table in the back, she walked there not knowing why she felt the need to be here. She slid on the smooth solid plastic of the chair, placing the lunch Sang-In had forced into her hand this morning as she had left the car. 

Soon, she could be a representative for Subways, the way they were consuming it daily. 

The sandwich was cool to the touch, but she didn’t mind. She had high internal heat. She ate alone, taking bite after bite of the sandwich, eyes down at the table before she heard the chair across from her being pulled out. She didn’t look up at first, swallowing her bite and taking a deep breath before she willed her eyes to rise. 

She saw something she had never seen before. 

A warm motherly smiled greeted her. 

“I didn’t know you were back already, you look cheerful.”  Soon-Duk teased, taking in her outfit with an amused grin on her face. 

“This is my happiest black.” She responded, almost jumping at the burst of laughter that her joke garnered and she shyly smiled back, taking another bite of her sandwich. 

“What kind of lunch is that? I will get you some real food.” She moved faster, than Mun-Yeong thought a woman her age should but within seconds, she was back with her delicious home-made food and despite her sandwich she felt her mouth watering. 

Lunch was a compilations of here try this, eat up, no put this with this, you like that? She ate until she thought her stomach would explode. 

“How are you?” Chopsticks stopped midair on their journey to her mouth. How was she. Everyone was asking her that. She had never had so many people worry about her well-being before, it was unsettling. She wasn’t worth any of it. The sooner everyone followed his lead the better. Didn’t they know that everything she touched turned to ruins? She was a harbinger of death, a bomb that would kill everything in its wake. 

She never got a chance to answer that innocuous question. 

Ju-Ri and Gang-Tae were frozen, across the room. Eyes wide in trepidation as she ate with their mother-figure. She wondered if they were scared for her? Terrified, that even being this close to her would result in anguish? 

“Thank you for the food.” She surprised even herself with the words, before standing and walking away, a warm hand on her wrist stopped her escape, “You’re welcome. You can come to me anytime.” She fought back the tears that threatened to spill at the compassionate offer. She nodded. Then continued her escape, never one to stray away from confrontation. She met their eyes, one filled with contempt and the other....too many emotions to read. It wasn’t shocking to see them together, if Mun-Yeong was a firecracker, then Ju-Ri was a wet rag. Dependable. Damp. Lackluster.   Jealousy burned like acid in her stomach as she quickly left the room. 

She never saw those dark soulful eyes, watch her very move, drinking her up like he was dehydrated and she was the only source of relief. 

So lost in her, that he didn’t notice two pair of eyes watching his rapture. 

Life continued, like it always did she thought bitterly. The Earth didn’t stop spinning for any of us. It had been days since her not encounter in the cafeteria, Sang-In had picked her up as he promised and there had been another not encounter, Sang-In’s eyes had hardened while opening the door for her and she turned around to meet those dark haunting eyes. 

He stood silent, as his brother rambled on about... someone named Terry? The circuit when their eyes met had been electric, fizzing through the air. He broke the contact first, eyes gazing over with...something as he looked down at the guiding hand her manager had placed on her back as he ushered her into the car. His other arm looming over her head as he opened the car door for her. The proximity between their bodies minuscule.  That sharp jaw had tightened before he seemed to snap out of it and grab Sang-Tae’s arm, changing their course. 

Giving them a wide berth of space. 

Are you jealous?

Her own words echoed in her mind, as she remembered his aloofness as the fan had sat besides her. Showering her with praise and glowering at her every move, enraptured in her as she was simultaneously enraptured in the pen. The table had jilted from the force with which he slammed the coffee down with, his body turned away from them in overly zealous nonchalance. Until she had started writing her number down, he couldn't stop his contemptuous glances then. She had seen the anger in his eyes has she had pressed this stranger’s hand onto her waist.  She has reveled in his jealousy, mindlessly taking that as proof of his feelings for her. 

His reprimands afterwards had not doused the flames at all, his jealousy was palpable then. The addition of words to his actions, painting an even clearer picture. You’re mine. 

What a load of bullshit. 

Was she is his Mang-Tae? Something you hide away in a drawer only to possessively clutch at it when someone else tried to touch it? 

Anger blistered under her skin, recalling with disdain how happy that moment had once made her. She was a fool to confuse possession with love. 

Not so long ago she had seen them as two sides of the same coin. But she was learning that she was wrong. Everything she had been taught about love was wrong, soured by her mother’s volatile love and her father’s discernible hatred. 

His jealousy brought her no satisfaction now. It might nothing if he wouldn’t fight. She was ready to go to war for them and he could barely pass a punch. It wasn’t equal, and love should be. 

Pale pinks and reds enveloped her body, her pink chiffon dress was soft against her skin, a sheer red covering outset the ensemble resembling Aphrodite herself, her hair was curled in soft waves that framed her face perfectly. The gold-heart necklace that Sang-In had gifted her this morning sat on the prominent clavicle of her chest. On her feet she donned bloody red heels, matching the red of her lipstick that she swiped across her lips. 

Perfect. 

“You look beautiful Ms. Ko Mun-Yeong!” The wide Bambi eyes glimmered in happiness, as Seung-Jae hopped up and clapped her hands, curling wand still in her hands. 

They had been up since morning, the usually frightful art director had dragged her from her a bed with a quick birthday song- do you have a death wish?- before begging her to allow her to help her get ready today. 

It was the first time, she had ever had someone besides her mother touch her hair. She had counted until the panic had subsided. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...... 

Before looking up and seeing that her hair was all glossy, bouncy curls that she had never been able to achieve on her own.  She had reached up to touch the wondrous curls before a soft hand smacked her own away. 

She looked up in shock and met the terrified eyes of Bambi before she cracked a smile and watched the girl do the same, breathless laughter followed close behind. 

“Don’t touch. Your hair is so silky it was really hard to make it curl, don’t ruin all my hard work.” 

Sang-In pressed in soon after and her skin tingled from all the praises, she looked in the mirror and agreed with all of them. She looked pretty. 

“She’s in a good mood.” She hears one of the patients whisper as she passes by, she can’t deny it. She is. Today she had allowed them to create their own fairy tales, instead of her usual lectures. Their first creative writing session and they were all engaged, stories about princesses and ogres and witches and she smiled as she listened in as a patient defended her decision to make the witch the protagonist and hero. There are good witches! 

Their time soon comes to a close and she hears them all whine in displeasure, “Can we finish them next week and read them out loud?” The old man begs, with pleading eyes, flustered by their evident interest in her class, all she can muster up is a nod. 

Without much thought, she finds herself going to the cafeteria knowing that she will get a few moments with Soon-Duk before they are interrupted. 

She had always relapsed this morning, fingers aching to send him a message. To let him know that today was important. Before remembering that today wasn’t important to him, he had his fun and she needed to leave him alone. 

His rejection still stung and she wouldn’t let it burn her today. 

“Well don’t you look gorgeous.” She perked at the sound of her voice and couldn’t help but smile in response. Warm hands encompass her own and Soon-Duk, walks her to their table, still hand in hand. Mun-Yeong wonders how they look, if they look like mother and daught--

They lapse into a comfortable conversation, she regales her with stories of her class today and how ridiculous some of the stories had been. Soon-Duk’s gentile smile makes her realize that she sounds like a proud teacher speaking of her students and their mishaps. A weird feeling flutters in her stomach. 

“There she is, the birthday girl!” A new voice interrupts their conversation, looking up she sees the kooky director himself, a stupid grin on his weathered face. 

Shock blazes across her face, looking at Soon-Duk who winks in response before leaving without a word. 

“....... my son is a businessman, you would like him! He has always been a big fan of your work. I think it would be wonderful if you two were to met!” She tunes back in, catching the final part of whatever the madman was talking about. 

For whatever reason, she had learned that Soon-Duk liked the director, they teased each other mercilessly, bickering like an old married couple and every once in a while he would join them and bore her with his stories of courtship. How had had fought off a band of thugs to save Soon-Duk’s live with only his watch, as the woman in question rolled her eyes stuffing more food into his ridiculous mouth to shut him up. 

This was the primary reason she found herself agreeing to meet his son later today, This will be his first time visiting me at work, he’s a very busy businessman! 

She liked Soon-Duk a lot, she wondered what had made Ju-Ri such a two-faced bitch when she had that for a mom? 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mun-Yeong, happy birthday to you!” That woman must have been a magician in her past life because she suddenly reappeared with a small cake, perfectly round with heaps of sweet frosting and glazed fruits, strawberries and mangoes, her favorite. 

Her cheeks were red from all the attention, the old man is singing terribly and loud, bringing everyone’s eyes to the tables, looks of curiosity and others called out “Happy birthday!” as well and she wasn’t prepared for any of this so she sits quietly, letting emotions she had never had the opportunity to feel wash over her- gratitude, joy, acceptance. 

She felt her throat constrict from the emotions, her body overstimulated. 

A perfectly cut slice was placed in front of her with a fork, “Eat up.”  And she did. Treasuring every bite, like it was her last. 

She felt their eyes before she even looked up and it was her time to leave. Happiness washed over her and without thinking, she pushed out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Soon-Duk. The warm body stiffened and she felt the rejection turn her blood ice cold, before those warm arms melted the frost away. Pulling her tighter into the spontaneous embrace. She hugged and let herself be hugged. 

Remembering where she was and who was watching, she pulled way but not before those those hands were on her cheek, brushing away rogue tears she never knew had dropped.  

Clearing her throat, she picked up what was left of her cake and started walking to the exit. She supposed she could give some to her idiot manager and his hapless assistant. 

A hand shot out and grabbed her elbow, and when she looked up and saw who the hand was attached to- her reaction was immediate, she ripped herself out of his hold and felt fury bubbling under her skin. “Don’t touch me.” 

She watched her words, stab him like daggers and his hand squeezed again as if still feeling the phantom touch of her arm. 

He wasn’t doing good job at hiding his hurt at her words and actions and she momentarily imagined the satisfaction she would feel if she just smashed the cake into his face.  Smeared it all over him and fled without a word. The cake was delicious though and she could feel Soon-Duk’s watchful eyes still on her. 

That wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore. 

She mustered up her courage and walked away, she had imagined what she would do if he ever approached her again, plead for him to stay, ask him to hold her, fall into his arms. Now that he was here, she still felt the desire to just forgive him but.. nothing had really changed. He was still the same coward and she was tired of being strong on her own. 

“Happy birthday.” His soft statement, made her pause for a moment,. Her heart telling her turn around and run into his arms, feel his love for however long he allowed. 

But she knew that she deserved more than he was willing to give. She wanted to be a faithful wife, not a dirty mistress. 

So, she kept walking, until she was outside and sat on the bench, the one where they first met, when she had grabbed hold of him as her destiny, it was now time to let him go and let herself in. 

The day was supposed to be enough, he wasn’t lying when he told her that he had been waiting for that day all this life. Experiencing it with her had made the day even more bittersweet, they had so much fun. Her smiling face had been the prettiest sight and then he had kissed her. 

A quick press of hunger lips, arms folded behind his back to stop them from dragging her into his arms and never letting go. it had been pure torture, resisting her the night before, she had looked at him with those ravenous eyes and sweet mouth and he wanted to let himself be eaten alive. 

But this was going to be his only day and he didn’t want their first kiss to be a drunken mess of tongues and spit, he wanted the kiss that had been taken from him all those years ago, when he had handed her his heart and she had trampled all over it, leaving him bleeding at her magnificent gate. 

That kiss had awakened emotions in his soul that he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, and that should have been the wake up call he needed. But he ignorantly thought that he could have his cake and eat it too, and then Sang-Tae had taken his heart out and slashed it into small pieces. The water that had hit him was nothing compared to the guilt that crushed him, a tsunami wave that shoved him to the ground. 

It was all his fault, he knew that now. He had wanted too much and dreamed a dream that was never his, he had let his brother down and betrayed his mother. You must always protect your brother, that is why I gave birth to you. 

He failed. 

But Sang-Tae had forgiven him, hugged him for the first time in years of his own volition.  And then everything was fine. 

Her crying face had haunted him in his dreams and he woke up in cold sweats, her screams still ringing in his ear, I’m a bomb! I don’t disappear after, I explode and kill everyone! Then dream Mun-Yeong had exploded, her limps sprawled all over and he woke up with silent screams. 

He ignored the dreams and the pain in his chest. This was all for the best, Jae-Su had agreed and reminded him daily. He didn’t need anymore excitement in his life, his brother was enough. 

He didn’t need to celebrate her birthday with her, they weren’t a couple. He wasn’t hurt watching her leave a room every time he entered.  He wasn’t jealous of Ju-Ri’s mother for getting to hold her, a beautiful sight in her airy pink dress, her new hair in curls that he had never seen before. He hadn’t yearned to pluck her from the mother’s arm and hold her in his own, he was fine and everything was fine. 

He didn’t mean to touch her but she had been so close and looked so exquisite, he heard Ju-Ri’s exhale of surprise when his hand reached out to graze her skin and he savored its softness before she had ripped herself away, her words cutting deep, dagger sharp. 

His words had stalled her, but she kept walking not looking back and he wondered what was that breaking noise he heard so loudly in his head? 

“Let’s go sit with my mom.” Ju-Ri stated exasperation profound in her tone, he wanted to tell her to go away and chase after Mun-Yeong. 

He followed her to the table, sitting down before her mother started to share out their respective meals, seeming to have endless supplies of food at all times.  He was always given the most, he noted with shameful pride. 

“Well I got her to agree, to meet my son. I think they’ll really hit it off!” The director exclaimed, pure glee in his eyes as he almost danced in his seat. 

“Leave the girl alone, she has enough on her plate. If your son is anything like you, she’s better off running for the hills!” 

“I told you, he takes after his mother. He is a gentleman if I say so myself, when I mentioned it was her birthday he was adamant about picking up a gift for her!” He said with a voice laced with pride that only a parent could have. 

Gang-Tae felt every muscle in his body harden at his words and the realization at what and who they were talking about. 

He devoured all the food before him to stop himself from, lashing out at the director like he had with Sang-In. She’s mine. She’s mine.

It wasn’t his place to think that, much less act on it. He had said cruel things to her, thrown back all the affection she had given him because she was right he was a coward. He didn’t deserve her. He knew that. But knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to punch the director in his face as he spouted out more information about his perfect son. 

Who was perfect for Mun-Yeong. 

He couldn’t sit here and listen to this any longer, even his patience wasn’t infinite. He launched himself out of his seat, ignoring Ju-Ri’s cries and her mother’s grasping hand. Tossing the rest of his food out, he pounded out of the cafeteria. Never seeing the twinkle of victory in the director’s eyes. Or Soon-Duk’s slap to his arm, chastising him for his obvious ploy. 

He distracted himself by actually doing his job, something the other nurses seemed to be immune to. Nearly punching Cha-Young in his smug face, when he had boldly asked if he and Mun-Yeong were over and if he wouldn’t mind if he asked her out. His only response was a growl and the slam of his locker door, the lazy nurse had taken his hint and quickly ran off to gossip some more. “Sheesh it was just a question, she’s crazy but she is hot.” 

He eagerly awaited the end of the day, counting the minutes until he could go home and recharge. 

There was no preparation for the scene that greeted him at the hospital’s entrance. Mun-Yeong stood with an overwhelming bouquet of flowers, held tenderly in her small hands. Vibrant pinks, reds and whites that matched her outfit perfectly. She was smiling that soft smile, that usually came before her wrinkle eye smile. He had only ever seen that smile directed at him and felt his heart constrict in jealousy, that someone else was on the receiving end. 

It felt like a sucker punch to the gut, when his eyes leveled with the someone else. That fucking guy from the coffee shop.  He felt satisfaction at being correct about this guy, he was a stalker, how did he even know where she worked? Had they spoken after that first meeting? No. She had told him that she had not been interested in him at all, as she waxed poetry about the beauty of the stolen pen. 

Mun-Yeong was many things but she wasn’t a liar. 

All the female nurses cooed at the flowers and congratulated her as she struggled to wrap her arms about the expanse of the flowers. Coffee shop guy reached out to help her and the desire to beat him to a pulp was almost staggering. 

Then the director swaggered out and placed a hand on the stalker’s shoulders and with another sucker punch to his gut uttered, “My son, you never do anything in moderation huh? This is quite the bouquet for a first time meeting.” Despite the reprimand in his words, he looked jubilant at the sight of his son, his son. How was this possible? 

“Sorry dad, but actually we met before. She was kind enough to take a picture with me. When you told me she was here, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to surprise her on her birthday.” His answering smile made Gang-Tae sick to this stomach.  

He didn’t have enough resolve to watch this. His hand on her shoulder with undeserved familiarity. Her sweet smile in return, as she let herself be guided away by the father-son duo. 

He stomped out of the hospital, ignoring everyone’s calls of goodbye. 

His foul mood lasted all evening resulting in his brother hiding away in his tent, after he had snapped at him for spilling some milk on the floor. He couldn’t stop thinking about her with him. What were they doing? Where they still together? Was she smiling at him? It was driving him crazy, imagining her looking at someone else the way she used to look at him. 

The cool rooftop air did nothing to cool off his anger. 

“You really have some nerve, don’t you?” 

He turned at the voice, meeting the cool eyes of Soon-Duk, calmly walking over to the table and pushing him over to make room for her to sit. 

He didn’t respond to her biting words. 

“She told me what you said to her. If you don’t want her, then let her be happy. You owe her at least that much.” She continued on and his eyes filled up with tears, knowing she was right he had to let her go, she did deserve happiness and he couldn’t give it to her. 

His job was taking care of his brother and nothing else. It didn’t matter if the thought of her with someone else made him want to throw himself off this roof. it didn’t matter if she was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at nights. It didn’t matter if he dreamed of hugging her and kissing her and loving her.  None of it mattered. 

Then why was he crying?

He cried long and hard, finally letting himself feel. Tears scorching as they cascaded down his face and he felt warm arms circle around him. Holding him as he shook, patting his head soothingly, before harshly smacking him. “Stop torturing yourself already, what do you really want?” 

He was scared to answer. The answer was clear but to state it out loud was to acknowledge it and make it real. Was he ready for that? Once he said it he would need to do something, that thought made him hesitate. 

But the thought of her loving someone else, spurred him on. 

“Mun-Yeong.” 

The hospital was abuzz with gossip when he entered the next morning, he tried his best to tune them out, but could’t escape the talk of their date. They had left together, and both entered his car, the female nurses gushing at his chivalry, he had rushed forward opening every door for her. Carefully placing the flowers in the backseat before, driving off to enjoy a quiet dinner. 

He wouldn’t lose her again. Destiny had brought them back together and he had stupidly fought tooth and nail to work against it, he was done with that. 

He was ready to fight for her. 

But first he had to speak to his brother, after work he sprinted home, nervous and anxious but determined, he didn’t have to choose. They could all be happy again, living in the castle together. At least he hoped they could. 

Convincing Sang-Tae that he wasn’t losing him had not been easy. He cried and screamed and retreated to his tent, he waited him out, repeating “I’ll always be your little brother.” Until his brother’s frantic cries finally stopped and the sound of the zipper opening flooded the room. 

“Why can’t it just be us two? We’re brothers all we need is each other, we’re brothers.” He repeated with sad eyes, looking like the world was crashing down on him and Gang-Tae almost lost his resolve. Mun-Yeong’s face flashed in his mind and it came back with a vengeance. 

“Because she makes me happy too. You both make me happy and I don’t want to choose. I want to be happy with both of you.” He answered honestly, smile lighting up his face thinking about the times they had all had dinner together. Smiling and laughing as they talked about their day, Sang-Tae sharing his stories about the pizza shop as they both looked on with fondness. 

“Happy. Gang-Tae is happy.” He felt his brother’s finger trace his smile with juvenile innocence, and he smiled even harder because he was happy and when he got her back, he would be even happier. 

They fell asleep shortly after, he cuddled his brother until his breathing was steady, drifting off to thoughts of her dark tempting eyes and candied smiles. 

He peeked out the closet door, waiting for that familiar head of lustrous short hair and impeccable fashion. She was looking radiant today in midnight blue, he reached out with trembling hands and yanked her into the small room with him. Her indignant, “What the hell are you doing?” was cut short by the slam of the door. She pulled her hand from his grasp, looking up at him in the dark before her vision settled. Her lips formed a perfect o. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He accused boldly, recalling all the moments he had attempted to speak to her this week only to see her spin around and walk run in the other direction. Once, he had actually chased her only to collide with the director who needed help picking out a tie for his meeting with a donor, he had looked back in annoyance as he was pulled further and further away from her. Then another time, he had arrived to lunch early, bullying Cha-Young into switching breaks with him.  

As soon as she saw him approaching, she had bolted with all her food in her hand looking like a squirrel hibernating. 

He ignored the amused eyes of Soon-Duk, who appeared to be enjoying his suffering immensely for someone who had told him to stop torturing himself. 

So, now here they were. In this closet. She reached for the doorknob and he extended an arm over her shoulder, forcing the door shut. 

“What are you doing? Do you have a death wish? Let me out!” She pushed at his chest in petulance, he didn’t budge even an inch. 

He placed his other arm over her shoulder and bracketed her in, leaning in close and watching her face. She looked beautiful, face flushed with anger, he really hoped she didn’t have any sharp objects on her. 

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.” 

“Fine, then I’ll talk and you can listen.” 

She tried to bolt again, trying to pry his hands off the door, even at one moment seeming to think about kicking him but he caught her leg with his own and pressed her into the door. 

“Stop. I just want to talk.” He pleaded with her. 

“I don’t care what you have to say. Leave me alone.” 

“Mun-yeong please....” 

Her eyes softened momentarily before the frost grazed back over them. 

“What do we need to talk about? if you’re looking for fun I can’t help you, firecrackers only go off once. “ She spat back at him, going for the jugular. The desire to check his throat for blood was immediate. 

He knew those words would be thrown back at him. He deserved them, when he had said them he knew they would hurt her to her core. But he said it anyway, because he was a fucking coward. He had lied to so many people around himself, including himself, he had felt trapped in the vortex of his own deceptions. So he lashed out and pushed her away, angry at himself. As soon as he had uttered the words out loud, he knew that he had damaged whatever trust they had build with tentative hands. He had taken a sledge hammer to the foundation of their relationship. 

“I’m sorry I said that, I’m so sorry. I never should have said those things to you. You were right, I am a fucking coward- her eyes widened at his curse- and I pushed you away because you scared me. What I was feeling for you scared me. I want you so badly, that it terrifies me. But I’m ready to fight now, Mun-Yeong I’m ready to be strong for us. “ He poured himself out at her feet, giving her all the ammunition to hurt him and trusting that she wouldn’t.  

But like he said he had been the one to break their trust. 

Her cold laughter made him take a step back, “Oh you’re ready to fight now? Should I be thankful? Should I drop everything and follow you like a lost puppy? Oh wait, I already did that. You told me to get lost. So about you take your own advice Gang-Tae, stop stirring up my miserable life and get lost.” 

She pushed him out back, harder than before, finally managing to escape, the door slamming behind her. 

Damn. 

That could have gone better. But he wasn’t giving up. Not now, he had hurt her and winning her back wasn’t going to be easy. 

Their game of cat and mouse continued, with her running every time he was in her vicinity and he watched with anguish as he started to pick her up after her classes. 

The first time, she had been on her phone talking to Sang-In berating him for his tardiness, “Get here now or I’ll kill you.” When he had showed up, and he despised the way she smiled at him, hanging up without a goodbye and walking into his open arms. His hands had soothed down the material of her baby blue sundress and Gang-Tae wanted to break each of his fingers. 

“Sang-In told me he was running late and asked me to pick you up.” He offered as a way of explanation, handing her an iced coffee, which she happily took placing the straw between her plush mouth, sucking hard. 

He tightened his fist, watching that punk, watch her with hunger in his eyes. 

“Okay, I won’t kill him tonight then. I’m starving, what are you going to feed me?” She asked him as they left, arms linked, that was supposed to be him. He had taken those moments for granted, her arm linked through his, her adorable face as she consumed pounds of grilled meat and still demanded more.  Now he had to watch another man, take his place and make her happy. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could do this. 

Every time he saw them together it was like salt in his wound. 

He knew this was all his fault, he had brought this on himself. But did it have to hurt this much? Did his heart have to throb this way? 

After the closet incident, it became impossible to find her around the hospital. It was like she knew exactly where to hide so he couldn’t find her. 

It was time to fight harder then. 

The gated loomed ominously before him as he pushed them open with determined hands. He knew that she was home today, he had Sang-Tae text her to make sure, as they were talking again, best friends once more as he was now the outcast. Unlike when he tried texting her, she had immediately responded to Sang-Tae, I am home, you can come over if you want. We can have fun. 

It had been difficult, stopping Sang-Tae from getting dressed and taking up her offer, “That is what best friends do. They hang out and have fun. I have to go!” 

He had distracted him with Teary, explaining that Teary needed his attention right now, it was still early days since the dinosaur had joined their family. 

With a deep breath, he climbed the marble decaying stairs and put the key in the lock, twisting it open. He had never gotten a chance to return it to her and he was thankful for that now. The door creaked open and he glared at it with betrayal, this would only work if he caught her by surprise. 

He heard her sultry voice, coming from the kitchen, “I don’t need a babysitter you can go out with the two-faced bitch. if I get bored I’ll call Sang-Tae or Daniel.” He ignored the pain that shot through his heart at not being one of her options. “ He is working late, but he promised to call me after and drop off food. Okay, have a good time. if she gets drunk and hits you, make sure to hit her back!” 

She meandered out, still unaware of his presence, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, long silk nightgown sheathing her lithe body, the silk draped into each and every crevice of her body and left his mouth dry. Parched. 

“We need to talk.” She jumped at the sound of his voice, grabbing a.....lamp defensively and readying it for her attack. Until she realized it was him, she only lowered the lamp marginally. He was going to take that as a small victory. 

“How did you get in here?  Are you stalking me now? What is wrong with you? Get out!” She fired off her questions and command, all in one breath, her voice higher and frantic. 

“No, we need to talk. I need you to listen to me.” 

“I heard you the last time, you’re ready now. I HEARD YOU. I just don’t care.” 

He sidestepped the lamp as it flew from her hands, and hugged her close to him, feeling the tremors run through her body. She was wild in his embrace, scratching and fighting to break free, he pinned her tighter.  Holding on for the ride. 

“I want you, and I think you still want me too.” 

“No, I don’t. You were just something to pass the time. I’ve moved on now.”

He marched on, “Does he make you feel like I do? Look me in the eyes.” 

He grabbed her chin in his hands, gentle but firm, forcing her eyes to meet his and he watched them surge with anger, so much anger but he also saw lust and he was going to cling to that. 

“It doesn’t matter. “ She twisted out of his hold, sprinting to the stairs, he followed right behind her, grabbing her wrist and jerking her around to face him. 

“It does matter. Answer me, does he make you feel like I do?!” He roared now, his anger so close to the surface, he refused to spend another minute without her, refused to watch her run into someone else’s arms. They went hand in hand, bomb and safety pin. 

She refused to meet his eye, vengeful tears filling her eyes, “No, he doesn’t.” And victory sped through him, his smile was instant, before it fell, “And I don’t want him to. I don’t ever want to give someone that kind of control over me. I like what he makes me feel, it’s easy and fun. it doesn’t hurt like this does. “ 

He should leave her alone. Walk out the door and through the gate. Walk all the way back home. Eat dinner with Jae-Su, Ju-Ri, her mother and Sang-Tae. Should go to sleep and accept his loss. Accept that he ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. Should be happy that she has something fun and easy. 

Well, he doesn’t do any of that. Doesn’t listen to his head, that’s telling him to accept his defeat gracefully. 

He eats her mouth, there is no other way to describe the ravenous way that he devours her, prying her mouth open with his tongue, swirling around, their tongues meet in a heated duel.  Presses her hard, into the wall, hands lost in her hair as she tugs at his shirt, exposing his hot stomach to the cool air. At first, she fights him, biting him hard enough to draw blood, she is vicious. Then her kisses soften and her nails rake over the crevice of his abs, leaving welts in their wake, he moans at the painpleasure. He trails down her elegant neck, sucking the hot skin into his mouth, doing his damnest to leave a mark. 

She pushes him back and he smirks, unashamed. She looks absolutely wrecked, panting on the wall, her nipples hard through the silk of her nightgown. He can’t wait to roll them through his teeth and watch her body writhe in ecstasy. 

Time stands still, as they stand panting, eyes glazed over in pleasure, waiting to see who will make the next move. 

She does. 

She throws herself into his waiting arms and he hooks his hands under her ass, drawing her close as she sticks her wet, slithering tongue into his mouth. She kisses like how she does everything else, explosively. Biting at his lip, forcing him to open his mouth wider to accommodate her demanding tongue.  

He walks backwards, praying that he won’t drop her, she might actually kill him then. Until his knees hit the couch and he collapses onto it, taking her with him. He moans as she straddles his lap, the heat from between her thighs is searing hot and he grinds up into her, dragging her down to meet his thrust. 

Finally, their kisses breaks, both taking a gulp of much needed air, a string of spit connects their mouth, before she licks her lips, splitting it. 

“Only I can make you feel this way.” He proclaims with confidence, everything they have been through has brought them to this moment. They aren’t perfect and there’s still so much they need to learn, but they can do it together. 

She sits in his lap, eyes shining, taking in his declaration before she suddenly grips the bottom of her nightgown and slips it over her head and then he has a lap full of half-naked Mun-Yeong.  Her rose-petal pink panties glow on her pale skin, the moonlight trickling in, makes her look ethereal and he almost pinches himself to make sure this is real. 

He comes alive. 

Running his hands from her neck, between the valley of her breast, down to her wet center, bringing his finger to this mouth for a taste, he moans as he licks her essence away hungry for more. 

She watches in fascination, before grabbing his shirt and dragging it over his head. Her eyes rake across his broad chest, tampering down into a tight narrow waist, he already knows that she likes his body. She had looked like she wanted to lick him all over last time.  Unlike that time, he doesn’t push her away as she presses her body against his. Pleasure shooting through him as her nipples catch on his. 

They spend minutes just grinding on each other, his hard dick presses up into her moist opening, and she bounces on his lap, breathless moans leaving her swollen mouth every time they meet. 

“Please, please I need more.” She begs prettily, the p popping off her lips and he wants to make her beg even more, wants to make her a filthy mess on the couch. 

He hoists her to the side, chuckling at her huff of indignation, his baby has never been patient but right now he can’t blame her. He wishes he was inside her, like yesterday. As quickly as he can he rips his pants off and pauses at his boxers, his swollen length standing at attention, the head visible through the slit. 

He is unprepared for her mouth to slide down his entire length, her hand gripping the base that is still in the boxers. She swallows around him and he fights to keep his hips still, her wet mouth is obliterating all of his thoughts until all he can think is fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck. 

That sinful mouth, suctions around his heavy dick, licking at his sensitive head causing him to buck up, deeper into the cavern of her mouth. She toys with him, bringing him to the edge only to, slide off completely and start all over. 

Her eyes stay on his the entire time, and it is pure unadulterated gratification, watching his length move in her mouth, in and out, in and out, it is hypnotic and he is lost in the pleasure. With a smirk she releases his cock, with a loud slurp, tongue coming out to lick him from her lips, lest she miss anything. 

With strong hands, he seizes her and tosses her over the arm of the chair. Putting her dripping, wet pussy on full display, he pries her thighs open and laps up all the goodness. He has never done this before, but is eager to please and porn was a great teacher. The girls in those videos had never been able to get him this hard, their moans fake and repetitive. But now with Mun-Yeong naked and squirming in front of him, he understands why men have gone to war for this. 

He would happily wage war for the chance to taste her. 

With broad strokes of his tongue, he licks at her folds, biting at her enlarged clit, chest puffing out in pride at her answering squeaks of pleasure, he presses his tongue inside the hot tunnel and she thrusts back in reckless abandon. 

Riding his face, now. Bouncing on his tongue and demanding more more more so he slips in a finger and the noise she lets us could rise the devil, himself. It is music to his ears. He thrusts his finger in while exploring her with his tongue, both scraping out every drop of pleasure from her body. 

With weak hands, she reaches back and forces his head away from his meal. He sneaks in one more lick, before allowing her to push him away. 

Their pants reverberate off the walls, he looks over and she is still hanging over the arm of the couch, looking every inch the temptress she is. He grips himself in his hands, pumping up and down, squeezing at the base to draw this out, he still has to make her beg after all. 

She watches him over her shoulder with rapt eyes, reaching back to touch her own wet pussy, pressing in two fingers and curling them roughly inside herself. 

She draws those sinfully wet fingers out with a soft squelch and beckons him closer, with the seductive curl of her fingers. He flies across the couch, easily covering the small space that separates them. 

He drags her back into his lap, with her back facing him, grinding into her hot core, groaning when his cock head dips in but moving away before she can fully sheathe him. He takes her soft breast into his arms, rubbing the nipples between his fingers and kissing her neck, as she wraps her arms over her head and around his neck.  Giving him full control and access to her body. 

He sucks hickey after hickey into her skin, in places others will see and hidden places just for his eyes. She is a whining mess in his lap, lifting up to catch his cock, but he snaps his hip away every time, only allowing it to slide through the wet folds. He rubs his dick against her clit and she starts to wail, nails scratching at his shoulders and that’s going to hurt tomorrow. 

He looks forward to it. 

She twists her head around, finding his lips again, distracting them from the hickey they were sucking into her neck. They wrestle for control, pushing and pulling, tongues meeting into a wet battle and he blames that diversion for his surprise as she lifts up and sinks slowly onto him, engulfing his fattened cock in an indescribable heat. 

The connection is like a life wire. 

Their hips smack together, colliding over and over, he can’t help but look down and watch his cock disappearing into her, captivated by humanity’s oldest dance.  She rides him hard, feet planted on the side of his thick thighs, begging him to go harder, faster, more as he squeezes her jiggling breasts and pushes even deeper into her depth. 

Fucking fuck fuck. 

Gradually, she starts to slow down, the movement of her hips faltering, he feels the fatigue in his own body but desire pumps like adrenaline through his veins and he wraps his hands around her slim waist, pushing her into the couch, her chest flat with the couch and her ass high in the air. His cock never slips from her body. 

He fucks into her hard, delighted at how deep he can move in this position, she thrusts back meeting him, and he does it again, watching her ass shake with the impact. His broad hands gripping the globes of her ass, spreading them, to get a clearer view of his dick inside her.  

His movements quicken as he feels the end drawing closer, he doesn’t want it to end, wants to be with her like this forever. But his balls hang heavily, waiting to expel all their fluids into her willing hole, that clutches and pulls him back with every thrust.  Reaching around and pressing his fingers to her mouth, he pants, “Suck.” She sloppily takes his fingers, when they feel wet enough he pulls them out from her mouth, praising her, “You’re so good baby, so good to me.” 

She grows wetter at his praise and presses back even harder, and he winds his fingers down to her engorged clit and rubs against it until she breaks apart underneath him, he wraps her up in his arms and rides her through her orgasm, feels her juices gushing out and the clenching of her walls, shoves him over the precarious edge he’s been on. His thick cum coats her walls, shooting out as he falls in a heap over her back, just catching the arm of the couch before he could bash his head into it. 

Euphoria washes over him in waves, until his vision rights itself and he sees Mun-Yeong still beneath him, fearing that he’s crushing her, he uses the last of his strength to lift his body off hers, flopping onto the other side of the couch. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Her heads snaps over to his in shock, he looks back at her, his eyes wide and hopeful. Some might say that they do things backwards, but he just likes to think they move to the beat of their own drum. 

She rolls her eyes before nodding yes.  “if you ever make me cry again, I’ll kill you. “ 

He pumps a victorious fist into the air, take that coffee shop guy. 

They spend the rest of the night, cuddling in her bed as he caresses her head and promises to make her happy for as long as she will allow him to. He whispers apologies onto her skin, until they fall into peaceful slumber. 

He isn’t trying to stake his claim or anything domineering like that, but when he sees Mun-Yeong sequestered in a dark corner with Daniel the next day, he wanders over and catches the tail end of their conversation. 

“I’ve had a lot of fun with you, but there’s someone else I was trying to forget. I hope you understand.” 

“I do, spending time with you has been amazing. if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.” 

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Fuck you very much. 

Mun-Yeong starts to walk away, making her way the exit, leaving Daniel despondent in the hallway when he calls out to her, speeding up to catch her by her waist, she stops and rises an eyebrow, challenging him to act and he accepts it happily. 

He drags her into a kiss, pressing his tongue into her mouth while stroking the hairs at the nape of her neck. Her immediate moan, making arousal sear through his blood. Imagining how else he could get her moaning.  

“Oh my god, they’re kissing!”  Sun Byeol’s high-pitched voice reaches his ear and he kisses her harder for good measure.  

Pulling away, he sees Mun-Yeong roll her eyes again but he also sees satisfaction in those eyes, she’s just as possessive as he is. She secretly loves that she brings out his primal side, so different from the blushing shy Gang-Tae. 

He looks over at coffee shop guy with a smirk, before walking out the hospital with his girl on his arm. 

He was never letting her go. Destiny had brought them together, but they had made the decision to stay that way. 

[walker-journal]

At Hell’s Gates (Bea, Adam, Luce- POTW)

Participants: Beatrice Vural (Spellcaster- Fiona), Lucinda Vural (Spellcaster-Cal), Adam Walker (Hunter- Tapir)

Summary: Adam brings Nell’s skin talisman to the Vural house to plan a rescue operation into a Hell Dimension with Luce and Bea as time runs out. 

Content Warning: Allusion to sibling death in the Bea resurrection plot

In a way Adam appreciated the breakneck speed of preparations, the staggering level of planning needed to even attempt this almost impossible task. Every second fussing over environment resist gear, talking to Naomi about atmospheric poisons, and running over possible dimensional scenarios with mom was one where he wasn’t thinking about Nell being tortured in hell. Eventually he just had to drug himself to sleep, as he’d be no use on the mission already exhausted. 

Adam caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows of the Vural home. He looked like someone about to venture into a radiative wasteland or wade through mustard gas, heavy boots, sealed armor, and a gas mask hanging from his belt. In truth, even with all this equipment he was pathetically underprepared for what was coming. 

But as always, Adam put on a face of stony resolution. He’d mastered the unphased action hero act a long time ago, even if his reflection had a numb thousand-yard stare that didn’t quite fit. 

“So what’s the magic plan?” 

The bracelet around Luce’s wrist had pinged the second Adam had crossed the boundary line, the magic a reminder of the sister she had lost. Nell had been the one who’d insisted upon the bracelets, something simple and small that they could always keep on them. She’d been so different back then. Younger. Unburdened by the weight that this town placed on its inhabitants. Luce let out a sigh and made her way to the front door, letting Adam inside. He looked like he was going to be rolling up into Chernobyl and, for all any of them knew, he would be. They didn’t know what was on the other side of those portals. And as much as Luce wanted to rush into the first rift she saw, she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave Bea here, alone, to worry and to curse her name. 

Cupping a glass of water in her hands, Luce looked over at her older sister, uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m not the one with the master plan, not this time.” Not ever really. She was just here to get things done, to bring Nell home. She might have lines now, boundaries she wouldn’t cross. But she needed to bring her sister home. “Bea, you find anything in the books on how we can get her back?”

In her early twenties Bea had been worried about her breakups and losing touch with her friends, how different that was from her sisters’ lives. How different that was from Adam’s life. He was walking into war for her baby sister and the eldest Vural could not help but see the flash of the blade cutting down when she looked at him. How many people would risk their lives for Nell? Would Adam be added to the list that had lost theirs for her? Nell, of course, was worth it, but Bea couldn’t help wishing that Adam and Nell could simply lead a life that was similar to Bea’s at their age. 

Her shadows swirled at her feet, agitated by the whirling emotions suffocating their mother, they clung to her ankles as she moved to grab a tome she had taken from Nell’s things. “We’ll be using her magic for this. Or at least we will be using an adjusted version of her magic,” Her voice flowed confidently through the space, coating every surface with honeyed hope that she did not feel. Is this how Luce and Nell felt when they lost her? Luce, now, had witnessed both of her sisters gone, taken unfairly from this world. In an impulsive move, Bea found her little sister’s hand, squeezing as she thought of the terror that must be drowning the middle Vural. “Adam, we will get her back.” Bea would destroy this world for her sister, if it meant she was safe. She would tear the fabric that kept this plane stable. She wondered if the universe knew, if it was prepared to go to war for Penelope Vural. Bea was ready. 

Adam had always been cautioned against hope. It was a purely therapeutic emotion, meant to comfort the dread of uncertainty. Esther Walker had instructed her children that facts should be assessed only for what they were rather than what we want them to be. We are not gods. This is not Hollywood. The cold universe wouldn’t fudge the numbers just because some monkeys on a random rock in the Milky Way had feelings in their skull. 

But Adam knew that not everyone grew up with their mom bluntly stating that they’d eventually lose everyone they care about in the long war. While Adam knew this grimness was Esther’s way of loving him authentically, it’d probably be cruel to give Nell’s sisters the same treatment right now. 

“Hey if we got a plan anything’s possible” he assured Beatrice with a confident lie of smile. Trying not to look at the darkness bubbling at the deathless woman’s feed, Adam turned his attention to Luce briefly. “Hey uh, resident fire scientist. Any way I could get something that might give me a chance if like...there is like an inferno or something? Just a few seconds to get the fuck out?” 

Adam shifted his weight, leather and alloyed kevlar creaking with the moment. “How do we get access Nell’s magic then?”

Bea’s hand slipped into her own and, for the first time, Luce realized just how changed her sister was. The familiar warmth, the heat that had always matched her own-- a source of both frustration and comfort that had followed their whole lives… It was gone now. Bea’s fire was gone. She didn’t have it anymore. She never would. But she was still here, still standing, still trying. And Luce was going to try too. She’d reclaimed her fire, she’d manage to fan the spark back into a blaze, and now that she had the power back? The least she could do was help Adam. To keep him safe. Fuck. She nodded slowly, mulling over how she’d manage something like that. Their mother, she’d made charms to protect Nell from their fire as children, back before they had total control. “I think we have something that we could use-- a necklace Nellie used to wear when she was little. Kept her safe from us, before we could control our fire.” She said, dreading the idea of going into Nell’s room to look for the charm. She didn’t want to step foot in there. Just because she could expect the same anguish that had overtaken her when she’d went into Bea’s room last year-- that didn’t make it any easier. This town, this fucking town. She’d thought that the nightmare had ended, that Bea was safe, that Nell was safe. But nothing changed here.

Looking at the book in Bea’s hand, Luce swallowed. “That’s one of Nells. I don’t know how to do what she does, Bea. Neither one of us do. Summoning, blood magic-- I… What are you planning?”

The charm. Bea had forgotten about the charm that used to keep Nellie safe from them. A physical reminder that she was different from her sister. Bea didn’t blame her for not keeping it on her as an adult. “Do you know where that is?” Nell could have thrown it out years ago, but the youngest Vural tended to know when to hold onto things that could be useful. Bea hoped that she had classified this as something useful enough to hold onto, even with it’s baggage. “I don’t know how to either, but Leah is going to help me research too,” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “We have some luck on our side, we’re already somewhat connected. Her magic is, obviously, connected to ours, but by bringing me back we’re even further intertwined. Your magic combined brought me back, so we can use that as a way to channel her too.” It wouldn’t be that simple though, there were more steps that she wasn’t quite too sure on yet. “We need something else, something to track her too, but I’m not completely sure how to do that yet, if you have any suggestions.”

Adam nodded and mouthed thanks to Luce as Beatrice spoke. He hated to part the sisters with something that reminded them of Nell but when you are about to try a longshot, anything that could ease the odds even slightly was needed. Beatrice's question brought a stab of pain as Adam stirred from where he’d sat, reached into a pocket, and withdrew a battered compass. 

“Nell gave this to me, it was uh a present,” Adam’s stomach clenched at the cruel irony of being given a six months dating present by a sad fire cat. It’d been the morning after he’d taken Nell out to ask their relationship to end for safety’s sake, only for that to be the mistake that caused the disaster he’d hoped to avoid. 

“It points uh,” the answer was that it pointed towards home, though Nell had cautioned that it was more metaphorical than literal. “It can take me to her,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Shifting uncomfortably, Luce swallowed. “It’s in her room. I can…” I don’t want to go in there, not alone. But you could never understand, Bea. You weren’t left behind the way we were. “Get it. Yeah, I’ll grab it.” She said before pushing back from the kitchen table, her hand slipping from Bea’s. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Adam pulled out a worn looking compass. As Adam explained what it was, Luce couldn’t help but wonder how Nell had gotten her hands on something like that. And just how lucky they were that she had. Luce nodded. “Good. That should… definitely help.” She was dragging her feet, she knew that. Just bite the bullet. With a slightly forced smile, Luce patted the door frame. “I’ll get the necklace.”

The walk up the stairs and down the hall to Nells was a short one, but every step filled Luce with that same anxiety she’d felt every time she had walked past Bea’s door last summer. It was a dread, a fear. That no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be enough. And that all that would be left of her sister would be tucked away in a room. That everything inside would stop being a part of Bea, of Nell, and start being a memorial. A memory. She didn’t want to step foot inside that room. But she had to. If they wanted to find Nell, this was their best shot. Luce pushed open the door and forced herself not to pay attention to the potted plants on their shelves, their leaves wilting a little from lack of care. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the desk with books still open, the bed unmade with rumpled sheets, as though Nell had just left for the day. These were all reminders of her sister that she couldn’t handle. Instead, Luce began to look for the necklace. 

It wasn’t until this past year that Bea truly understood love. In a sense, she had looked at love the same way her mother did, based on what the other person could do for her. Bea had collected people for their skills, pocketed the ones who were the most useful and claimed she understood love through them. It wasn’t until she had been lost that she got just how powerful love was and even then, though she had seen so much work put into her resurrection, she hadn’t witnessed it all. She hadn’t seen the planning or the original mourning, she had not been involved in the panic and grief. She was unable to escape it here, where love twisted into melancholy suffocating them as aptly as summer heat did in the afternoon. 

Bea reached out to Adam, “Can I hold it? I’ll give it back to you after.” She couldn’t take the physical piece of Nell he had left, but looking at it would help her form a plan. They were all relying on her to make a plan that would bring Nell back. With Luce gone searching, she looked at him for a long moment, considering him. “Adam, I know how much a person would do for Nell.” I know sacrifice and I feel like I’m looking at one. “Please do your best to come back to us too.” Some of that honey sweet hope had dissipated now that Luce was gone, Adam didn’t need that, not in the way Luce did. “Is there anyone who can go with you as back up?” Please, don’t do this alone. 

Adam pressed the compass in Beatrice’s hand. It took Adam a bit to answer Beatrice's request. His wide distant eyes and the lost way they drifted around the Vural’s home, looking anywhere but Bea’s face, revealed the lie behind the firm set of his jaw.

It’d been a long time since Adam had felt his age. Uncertainty and finding yourself were unnecessary when you’d grown up already knowing you’d be a soldier and what war you’d be fighting in. His civilian peers had gone through heartbreaks, angst, anger, cycles of rebellion, maturation, acceptance, and reinvention. But Adam had already grown up at sixteen, when he signed away his life to fight and die in service to humanity. He’d learned how to make bombs, lethal holds, blades, marksmanship, and how to keep his head in a warzone when everyone else had been fretting about what school clique to fall in. 

But now Adam suddenly felt like a child in this tactical armor. It was as if he’d finally woken up from a dream to realize the weight was too heavy for him, but it was already way too late to learn all that stuff the other kids took for granted. Adam marveled at how narrow his own knowledge of the world was. 

Honestly? He knew way more about how to kill monsters than how to be human. 

With bittersweetness, Adam realized that made him exactly what Nell hadn't needed, and only now that she was trapped in Hell was he an ideal partner. 

“I promised Luce I’d come with her back to Earth,” was the only assurance Adam could offer Beatrice. He shook his head at the matter of back up. “I’ve got family and Hunter friends who volunteered but I can’t ask them to take this risk. Besides we need all hands on deck to deal with all the shit coming out of the Portals.”

There were times people should be selfish and this felt like a time, but Bea knew that Adam wouldn’t agree. She could spend all night trying to convince him otherwise and it wouldn't work. He was more stubborn than Nellie sometimes, which was saying something. They were the only people that could get through to each other sometimes. It reminded her a bit of how she and Felix could be with each other. 

“Is it going to be that bad?” She had no idea what these portals could mean for everyone else after all this. Honestly, she didn’t really care what happened as long as the people she loved were going to be okay. “You aren’t asking them if they offered, Adam.”

“In situations like these the portals often get worse, opening wider till they let bigger and bigger things through, stuff that our weapons won't work on,” Adam claimed, suggesting perhaps that the already deadly things coming through the dimensional breaches right now were just small fry compared to what really waited in the beyond. 

“Eventually we get what’s sometimes called a Hellmouth,” the Hunter said, numbly staring at a wall as the present mixed with another time where doomsday had loomed near. “Unless its stopped reality itself could be permanently fucked around here...well...fucked even harder I mean, in a way that can’t be covered up from the outside world any more. They’ll probably notice the tentacle godzillas after a bit.”  

Everyone had called Dad a hero. Had he felt like this, just another expendable piece of kindling thrown on the fire to keep ‘normal’ going for just a little while longer? 

“Hey uh,” Adam prevaricated with a shrug knowing Beatrice was correct. “I’ve ask people for supplies and stuff. They’ve been very generous, but actually going in is something I don’t think I have the right to ask.” Of someone that wasn’t raised to die that way, was rest that was left unsaid. 

It was always the end of the world, it seemed. No matter what everyone did to fix it, something else would come and take the mantle. Bea couldn’t help but feel as though sometimes these things were inevitable. It didn’t stop her from understanding the need to fight, if anything she got that this made people fight harder, because at least they had done something then. Still to fight for a world that didn’t know you were doing it must be exhausting. “So, it needs to close or else we’re all going to die via horrible ways.” The countdown they had already started to tick faster. “I guess it's good that we have people who are going to help then.”

Her throat tightened with unsaid words of caution and unnecessary attempts to dissuade him. Bea knew the look in his eyes, knew that no matter what she did or said, he wouldn’t turn from this course of action. She was sure she would have seen the same look in her own if someone had dared to stop her before she found Nell. “I suppose giving you supplies is enough.” It wasn’t. 

Bea went back to Nell’s book, hoping that skimming again would reveal something else. And it did. She looked between the compass in her hand and the word bone. “Adam, do you know if Nell’s been keeping anything she’s killed? Like the bones of a monster?” The words came out quickly, excited by the potential that laid between them now. 

Adam nodded. “On our first mission together, there was an Alchemist dude who was using a Dolophage to harvest intense emotions and memories from trauma patients,” the Hunter explained, swallowing down the bittersweet feeling of that recollection. It was hard to imagine that’d hadn’t even been a year ago. “Nell forged the Reversal Talisman so the Dologphage’s powers reflected back on it when it tried to tentacle my brain,” Adam explained, poking his ears to illustrate that he’d volunteered to get fed on by the demon as bait. “After we killed it she kept its bones.” 

Digging around in Nell’s room wasn’t easy. Luce had known it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was so much uncertainty and that sense of doubt loomed over her every move. The moment she’d heard that Nell was gone, the second she’d heard from Adam, a pit had formed in her stomach. Or maybe it reopened-- maybe it wasn’t a pit so much as it was a gaping wound, created by Bea’s death, that she’d barely been able to tend to. She hadn’t stopped to process the loss, the grief, the anger. The anger. She’d only managed to get a hold of that until it was too late. And just as she was finally coming to grips with the events of the past year, White Crest found a fucking way to open up the wounds. Shutting the dresser drawer she’d been pawing through, Luce settled down on the edge of Nell’s unmade bed. 

Luce clenched her jaw as she tried to sort through her thoughts, trying to figure out where Nell might keep the necklace. But all she could think of was how much it would hurt if she had to do this for real. If she had to pack up boxes of Nell’s things. She hadn’t had to do it with Bea, they’d known how to bring her back, known exactly what they needed to do, even if they weren’t sure if it would work. But Nell was lost. Gone. And Luce had no fucking clue how she could help. Swallowing, Luce wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before her gaze fell on a simple box on Nell’s bookshelf. Luce moved towards it, apprehensive. Her fingers lifted the lid and inside were little trinkets-- magical in nature. Some of them familiar to her, others she didn’t know where Nell had even found them. But there it was. The necklace Nisa had enchanted all those years. Luce took the necklace from the box and closed the box before hurrying out the door. She didn’t want to stay in that room, didn’t want to see that place again. Not until Nell was back. Not until they were all safe.

“Hey. Found it.” Luce said as she held up the little silver charm necklace. “We might need to re-up the magic, but it should help. And hey. Might help with the tracking situation. She wore this all the time.”

Plans were beginning to race rapidly through Bea’s mind, wheels spinning so quickly that she was almost scared they’d burn out. “With that bone we could connect with her,” She mused, before grinning at Luce. “And with the necklace we’ll also be able to tell how close Adam is to her. He’ll be able to use the compass, hopefully, in the dimension to find her quickly.” With eyes brighter than they had been since Nell was gone, Bea looked between the two younger adults,“We have a plan now, a really good one, with three ways to track her. We’re going to get her back.” And the moment she got back, she was going to get the lecture of her fucking life. 

Adam nodded. “Hey...thanks both of you, like I know you’d do this for Nell anyway, but I still appreciate you folks having my back on this.” 

Luce leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Bea, determined, her old fire lit inside her with this new mission to get her sister back. Adam, weary in a way that no one should be at his age, but filled with the same resolve. And then there was her. She fell somewhere between the two of them-- somewhere between grim determination and optimism. They were going to bring Nell home, come hell or high water. Which, in this town? Either could happen. “Sounds like we’ve got a game plan then.” Luce said with a nod. “Of course, Adam. And… thanks for leading the charge here. We’re gonna bring her home.”

[dawn-aethwyn]

Crimson Sunshine

[Trigger Warning: Self Harm / Mental Instability]

Process. Nijah needed time alone to process. It made sense. She dumped a lot on her at once. Things she kept to herself all the time from everyone else. It was a lot of heavy stuff, things that would make people think twice before befriending her. So, a reaction like this, taking time to process feelings and thoughts-- this was understandable, right? But then why did it hurt so much? Was she being childish again? She brought her hand up to stare as she rested her head along the back of the porcelain tub.

It was fear that gripped her heart. That harrowing sensation that she might lose the one person who was her source of empathy and relief. Her solid rock to lean on and find balance. The person who helped her regardless of her pain, self-pity, and sadness. Nijah had always been there to offer a guiding hand. Not one that coddled, but one that was there to help her walk on her own two feet again, hovering just far enough away to catch her if she fell. She was always there to offer an objective standpoint or practical solutions to her own perceived problems.

Perhaps it was because of this absence of objectivity or practicality that Dawn felt lost and her mind wandered to more insensible thoughts. The water in the half-filled tub had grown tepid and her exposed flesh felt cold to the touch. She held the tip of the thin blade to her forearm and hesitated. Would this count as another secret? Would this make her lie more? Would this be something she’d have to keep from Nijah? If it never came up, would it ever be an issue? But, what if she found out? What if she needed more space to herself, more time to process things?

What if she processed and realized that she no longer wanted to be around her?

A light moan and a shaky breath escaped her delicate lips as she raked the razor along her flesh. In that precise moment she hadn’t mired herself in what-ifs. It was just the feeling. The physical searing that took away from the pain in her chest. If she was going to hurt herself with a myriad of thoughts that ranged from abandonment and heartbreak, wasn’t this the lesser of two evils? Small lacerations were clean and easy to heal with a bit of conjury, after all. At least she rationalized it that way in her head. But it was just that, wasn’t it? A simple excuse.

Justifications, reasons, excuses, none of those really mattered as she made her second cut; blood from the first trailed down her arm as drips sounded in the water. She didn’t need to worry about the why’s or torment herself mentally anymore. This feeling gave her a distraction. Was this foolish? Was it reckless? She didn’t need to worry herself over the details; what mattered was that the piercing feeling in her chest felt lessened as she cut into her flesh.

‘Weak.’

Harsh judgement came from the voice echoing in her skull. Weak? Of course she was. That’s why she was there in the tub in the first place. She felt the voice slowly creeping in some more and opted to drown it out with another slow and methodical incision.

The voice wouldn’t relent as the soul crystal around her neck began to burn red hot. Her veins nearest the stone darkened and red strands started spreading beneath the flesh-- her flesh felt on fire while the fine branching blood vessels underneath her pale, near translucent skin began to form crimson lines resembling the intricate webbing of a spider or perhaps the splintering of glass that had shattered but retained its form. She dropped the razor and her hands gripped white-knuckle tight on the edges of the tub as her form writhed.

‘If all you want is pain, I can give you that.’

How long had it been since she had been forcibly absorbing the dark aether from the soul crystal? Weeks? Months? The woman it had belonged to, the woman whose voice it was that spoke to her now, had led a sinister life and wielded a grim power reminiscent of those harnessed by Dark Knights; the crystal, of course, was from a long line of those avengers who embraced their emotions to call upon the abyss. They did this to exact vengeance, cold, harsh, and mercilessly upon those that they deemed deserving. These dark deeds and acts find their way to carve themselves upon a person’s soul no matter how well-intentioned. The scars from these acts were carved along with the memories and aether stored in the stone- pieces of their souls; and instead of learning from their whispers and memories, she had been absorbing them.

The most prominent of which was the soul of the woman who was slain in agony by Nijah herself: Adala Himaa. Now Dawn’s soul was entwined with hers and their fates tied together. Whatever remnants that remained of Adala were becoming a part of Dawn. She did her best to keep this change at bay but it would slip out-- in a physical altercation here, a life threatening situation there, a heated work conversation, an argument laden with emotion: anger that seethed from within.

Just when she had found some sense of normalcy in her life everything seemed to work against her.

Some sense of normalcy…

“Nijah!” her eyes shot open and she grabbed the stone, pulling it off her neck and away from her chest. The vessels along her chest began to return back to their natural state and she was able to catch her breath from the searing pain.

‘Oh? Found some inspiration did we? To escape from the pain? I thought you wanted to stop thinking about that?’

“I know! I know I’m weak. Okay?!” she shouted at no one. “Can’t you see that?! Why I’m doing this?! Don’t you know that I know?!” her reddened eyes swelled as tears escaped them. She brought her hands to cover her face and sobbed pathetically.

‘Causing yourself pain, mutilating yourself, that accomplishes nothing. Are you going to sit in your bathtub and do this every time your feelings are hurt or when you want to numb the pain? Or when you’re finally so numb that you do it to feel something? Is that it? Grow up. Face the pain.'

“But it isn’t going away if I don’t do this!” she pleaded.

“And it won’t go away if you keep doing this. You have to face the difficult things. The things that hurt you, the things that you’re afraid to lose, the things you’ve lost. It won’t be over quickly, it never is.”

“It’s not just about how I feel! I-- I d-deserve to…”

‘Oh please spare me the wailing. You feel guilty so you deserve it, right? Penance, as it were? So is it that or that you want the pain to go away. Make up your mind. Weak. Pathetic. Foolish.’

“I told you. I already know that I am!”

‘Then stop. Being. That. Way.’

Dawn sneered and rasped out, “You make it sound like it’s so easy, like I can just flip a switch and things will be all rainbows and butterflies!”

‘Does it have to be one or the other? Suffering or contentment? Not everything is so black and white. Not everything is so absolute. Look at you, it’s either one extreme or the other, mn? There are plenty of shades of gray. And in those shades is where you find truth. Pain is a part of life, and you have to learn to live with it and grow with it.’

“I’ve lived with pain. I’ve known pain. I’ve known suffe-”

Her rebuttal was interrupted by a singular thought from the familiar voice.

‘What would she think of you right now?-- Oh? Cat got your tongue? Go on, tell me about how you’ve learned to live with pain. Look at yourself right now and then say that you’ve learned to live with the pain.’

Her voice was weak and she seemed as if all the strength had been sapped from her as she sank into the water tainted with her own lifeblood, “It’s not the same. When mother died, I learned to live again. When father sailed away, I learned to live again. When I lost my eyes, I learned to live again. I don’t want to learn to live again…”

‘Oh, boo-hoo, is it too hard? Or is it that you can’t anymore without her? Hah. The thought hurts you so. Appropriate. At least you can feel some anguish with me since your loving murderess was the one who killed me. Sounds less like love and more like an obsession to me.’

“And? So what? What if I’m obsessed with someone that I love?”

‘Obsession can kill you.’

“So can love.”

[ickle-ronniekins]

truth or dare

request: from anon: hi love!! can i request fred one shot with #28 & #29? thank you in advance!!!

prompt(s): "professor, i swear, it was me.. just—don't hurt him." | "oh my god, you're in love with the bloke."

word count: 2k

A/N: changed up the prompts just a little to fit the story—i hope that’s okay, love! and i’m bringing juvenile muggle games into this because it‘s silly and definitely sounds like something fred would love to do. also, writer’s block is hitting hard, been trying to work on requests for days and this was honestly really bloody difficult to write.. yikes! sorry if it’s rubbish

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @perksofbeingawf @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx | message me if you’d like to be added!

“Truth or dare?”

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement—now that Umbridge had taken over almost completely, there was barely any area of the castle that was not overturned or watched. At least you still had your sanctuary. She couldn’t bother you in there, could she?

For all she knew, each Gryffindor was sound asleep.

“Isn’t that a bit.. juvenile?” Hermione asked as she flipped through a book, not looking up from its pages.

Ron just rolled his eyes, turning back towards the group and continued on, completely ignoring Hermione’s statement. You could hear her huff loudly on the other end of the common room. “So—who’s up first?”

Katie Bell nervously said, “Can’t we just play truth or truth instead?” You playfully slapped her on the arm and continued to laugh.

Seamus snorted and replied, “That’s hardly a game at all!”

“Blimey,” Dean said, plopping himself down on the floor next to Seamus, “I’ll go first.”

As the sky grew darker and the fire grew warmer, it was becoming easier and easier for Gryffindors to spill their most well-kept secrets. Was it the Butterbeer? The impending doom of Umbridge completely destroying what was left of your school? Voldemort’s return that people were still not entirely believing? You weren’t sure—all you knew is that for the first time since returning to Hogwarts this year, Harry actually looked happy, for once. You reckoned the distraction was a good one.

You turned towards Fred, who had been strangely quiet during the game—merely observing, grinning cheekily, waiting patiently to take his turn. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” you told him, “got something up your sleeve, have you?”

“Aw, Y/N—what perfect timing you’ve got.” He playfully nudged your arm and stood up. “Pipe down,” he told everyone, their laughs continuing to bounce off of the walls in the common room. He glanced right at you and raised his eyebrows up and down. Shit. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. Sure, Fred and George were your best friends, but it didn’t stop them from teasing and pranking you mercilessly. If anything, it just gave them more of an excuse too. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you blurted out a little too quickly, because whatever Fred Weasley had planned, you knew deep down in your heart you did not want to do it.

“Finally going to admit to everyone you’re in love with me, then?” He winked.

You were sure your face was red now. Maybe you could blame it on the copious amount of Butterbeer you’d consumed? Blimey, it was warm—you wished the fire would die down. Everyone seemed to be snickering but not necessarily taking Fred that seriously. Doing your best to not wear your heart on your sleeve, you rolled your eyes at him and replied, “I’m not in love with you, you prat.” So that counted as your turn, yes?

But Fred just peered at you and cocked his head to the side, as if to say, Really, Y/N? You’re a bloody awful liar, which was true. You were. A bad liar, yes, but also—head over heels for him. Always had been. You thought you’d kept your feelings rather hidden, but nothing could slip past Fred Weasley, you supposed. Next to you, George kept glancing at you and was doing his best to stifle a laugh. Bloody hell—couldn’t get anything past him either? You shoved George, took a breath and asked mockingly, “Anything else? Or does that count?”

“Nah—but I haven’t any more truths,” Fred told you, shrugging his shoulders.

“Got to do a dare now,” Harry said, and you shot him a look of, who’s side are you on, Potter?

“Reckon Harry’s right,” George said, and when you narrowed your eyes at him, he put his hands up in surrender, “just playing by the rules!”

You groaned and stood up. “If doing this stupid dare is going to move this game forward, then this dare I shall do.” You turned towards Fred, whose arms were folded and he was looking rather impressed indeed. “Let’s have it, then.”

“Sneak into Umbridge’s office with me,” he began, and you already didn’t like where this was going, “want to give her a little gift, courtesy of George and I—some toffee she can have with her evening tea,”

“What will it do?” Ron asked admiringly. Hermione rolled her eyes yet again.

George laughed, “Hopefully her tongue will swell so much she won’t be able to bloody talk for awhile. Can’t stand listening to that woman speak.”

The common room erupted with laughter while Fred awaited your response. “You’re both idiots. Well—you coming, or not?” You asked him as you walked towards the portrait hole. “I’d like to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“You’re actually going to do it?” Neville asked you, his eyes growing with worry.

“If it gets Weasley here off my back—yes,” you replied, and then a bit softer, “no worries, Neville. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

The two of you climbed through the portrait hole and out into the corridors, being as quiet as you possibly could be. “Enlighten me, Fred,” you whispered, walking stealthily throughout the corridors, keeping close to one another, “how in the hell d’you expect to get into Umbridge’s office and lure her away from there?”

“I happen to know for a fact that Umbridge spends these evenings in Dumbledore’s office, going over rules and guidelines straight from the Ministry,” he shook his head in dismay, “so we’re in the clear. Besides, nothing like a bit of an adrenaline race, eh?” You were closer to him than you ever had been before, and he was right—your adrenaline was racing, but not due to the dare.

It was seemingly easy to break in, actually. A simple Alohomora unlocked her office door—kind of pathetic, really, quite an easy bit of magic—and you walked into the irritating sounds of meows coming from every which direction. “Blimey—how many bloody cats does this woman have?”

“Just hurry up, Freddie,” you growled through gritted teeth, watching the door like a hawk, as Fred took his time placing the toffees down gently, neatly mixed in with the cookies already next to her tea cup she’d surely gotten from the kitchens. “I’d like to get back to the common room in one piece.”

“Oi, relax, woman,” he replied, making sure nothing looked out of the ordinary, “I’ll get you back before your bedtime.” You nearly shoved him into her desk as he stifled a laugh, and he then gently guided you towards the door.

You were out of the office, thank Merlin, and nearly halfway down the second corridor back towards the Gryffindor common room when Fred said, “Look at you! Being all adventurous—didn’t hurt now, did it?”

“I hate you,” you replied with a grin, before you felt a hand grab at the back of your shirt and pin you both against the wall.

A sickeningly sweet giggle reverberated off of the walls and you shot Fred a glance, as if to say, If we survive this, I’m going to murder you. “Bit late in the evening for a stroll, yes?”

“Couldn’t sleep, Professor,” Fred replied and cleared his throat.

“Ah, so it was your idea to sneak out of your common room so late at night, was it, Mr. Weasley?” Umbridge seethed, “Planning another one of your pranks, perhaps, yes? Where is he—your twin—I reckon he’s out here too?” Umbridge looked so short compared to Fred, but she wasn’t afraid to place her wand right up to his face. “Clearly, the discipline at Hogwarts is not working the way it should. We need something that will—sink in, yes? Perhaps—yes, maybe a bit of torture would do?”

What? She was out of her bloody mind! For sneaking out of a common room? That was hardly a reason to torture a student—mind you, it was illegal! What kind of brainwashed maniacs worked at the Ministry, anyway? Fred sucked in a breath and raised his eyebrows at you, as if to say, Run while you can, but instead you found yourself drowning in fear and tugging on the ends of Umbridge’s robes—

“Professor, I swear, it was me.. just—don't hurt him.”

What had gotten into you? You might as well have just blurted out that you’re in love with him, at this point.

“What?” Umbridge and Fred asked at the same time, surprise noticeable in their voices. Then Dolores continued, “Taking the fall for your boyfriend, are you? Noble, yes—but, you silly girl, now you’ll pay—”

Just then, Peeves swept himself throughout the corridor, laughing maniacally and tossing many things at Umbridge’s head. Screaming and letting go of Fred’s shirt, she began to run throughout the corridor as Peeves chased her down towards the Great Hall—surely, her yells waking everyone in the castle. Without thinking on how Peeves just saved you both, you tugged on Fred’s arm and said, “Let’s go!”

You both stopped short right before the portrait hole, gasping for air and breathing heavily. “What a night,” Fred teased, noting the annoyance in your eyes.

“I could seriously kill you,” you replied, swatting him with your sleeve, “you’re lucky she didn’t beat us! That crazy old bat.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed, running a hand through his hair and smirking excitedly, “but c’mon, don’t lie to me—I know you enjoyed yourself. Want to do it again?”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing you do with George?”

“Maybe I just wanted some alone time with you—you know, since you’re mad for me, and all. No denying it now—you took the fall for me,” he mocked Umbridge, and continued to tease you mercilessly.

Well, guess you couldn’t get out of it now? You smirked at him and shook your head.

“Maybe he was helping me out a bit?”

What? “You’re mad,”

Fred reached out and placed a piece of hair behind your ear. It was a small, intimate moment, but one shared just between the two of you—and it wasn’t something you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon—you knew that for sure. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. “Maybe I am,” he said, and grinned from ear to ear. What the bloody hell was he doing?

You heard voices around the bend and jumped—desperately scrambling to get back into your common room. When you both climbed back through the portrait hole, your heart beating rather rapidly, you were tugged to one end of the common room with the girls where they began giggling animatedly.

“I can’t believe you did it! Tell us everything!” Parvati squealed.

A few minutes later, you heard the boys erupt in laughter and yells on the other end of the common room, while the girls listened with baited breath for you to finish your story about your untimely encounter with Umbridge. Then, Hermione peered at you questioningly.

“Why on earth did you take the fall for him?” she asked you, squeezing your arm. “You’re lucky Umbridge didn’t throw you in detention—or worse—actually use that Unforgivable Curse on you!”

Katie replied, “What—you in love with the bloke, or something?” She, Ginny, Parvati, Angelina, and Hermione all fell into fits of giggles, when you peered across the common room at Fred, who turned away from the boys to meet your eyes, and winked at you.

You wished everyone else would leave for their dormitories, leaving you and Fred alone. You wished you had more time to sneak around the corridors late at night. But everyone was awake and alert, doing stupid things throughout the common area and revealing silly secrets, even though it was now nearing two a.m.—and besides, it was your turn now, anyway. You couldn’t wait to get Fred back for his ridiculous stunt.

“So,” you started, sitting yourself down next to Fred, and waiting to continue as everyone took their places. Fred’s firey eyes met yours, and you wanted nothing more than to pull him close to you and press your lips to his. But after the night you had, you knew you’d have a lot of time for that—was sneaking out of the common room going to become a new thing for you both? He placed his hand around your waist and squeezed your hip. Yes seemed to be the answer.

You narrowed your eyes, shooting him a smirk that would certainly send him into overdrive, “truth or dare, Freddie?”

reblogs + feedback are always apprecated, darlings :)

[miioouu]

Single Father Bakugo (3) Birthday Dad

More cute single pa Baku!! Honestly idk i just got this idea randomly sooo. Also idk if i said I'll update you guys on Single Father bakugou once a week, buuuut i don't think that's true, I'll post a part anytime an idea comes to my mind. Anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAKUBOO❤️

Ten months…. 

It's been almost a year since Bakugo was taking care of his little baby. Ever since, his life seemed a little brighter, a little more colorful. Even behind his tired, sleep deprived eyes, happiness and joy can be seen. Life has changed drastically, but he wouldn't have it any other way. And to say he wanted to put the little girl up for adoption! So pathetic Katsuki. 

Even though it's his birthday, things were going on normally, being a dad meant that he wasn't able to go out and party, enjoy his special day like every other young person his age. He could still ask his mom to keep an eye on the child, but honestly he'd rather spend the day with her than surrounded by drunk sweaty bodies, annoying music filling his ears. He'd much rather listen to his baby girl babble and babble incoherent words and him pretending to understand and have a conversation with her. What he didn't expect was that this year, he'd have the most wonderful gift of all time. 

Holding her on his hips as he was making himself a birthday dinner, the little girl always looking up to him, hand gripping his thin sweatshirt, incoherent sounds would come out of her mouth every now and then making the young father look at her and reply with a "yes, you're right" and "I know right?! Unbelievable!". Bouncing her to the rhythm of whatever song that was stuck in his head, focusing on the task at hands, he almost missed the sound coming out of her little lips, if it weren't for her hand tugging harder at his top and other one patting his strong arm, a gesture that she learned would get his attention anytime. Dropping the wooden spoon to the side, seeing her mouth open and close, trying to get out something. "Come on baby! What do you have to say? Dad's listening!" He didn't want to get his hopes too high, knowing that it's still a bit early for her to say her first word, but maybe it's his dad instinct telling him to listen closely, or maybe it's just the little bit of hope that she'd say her first word on his birthday that told him to focus on whatever that was about to come out of her. "Ba… BaBa". That's it! That was it! Wide smile stretching on his face, tears threatening to fall, since when did he become so soft? Well it doesn't matter now... He couldn't believe how lucky he was, to have his daughter's first words be "baba" and on his birthday! He was on cloud nine! Hugging his baby tightly, telling her how much he loves her and treasures her, he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the evening. 

He spent his first birthday as a dad calling up his beloved ones, telling them about the most amazing gift he's ever gotten. 

5 years….

Growing up and growing older together, was everything Bakugou ever wants. His little baby now five, how did time pass by so quickly? It felt like just yesterday he was teaching her how to walk, and now he's begging her to stop running around the house, afraid she'd knock her head on things. It happened before, hearing his angel cry, making his heart drop, he never again wants to hear her in pain again….

His birthday wasn't his special day anymore, it was their special day. Making it a ritual to always spend it together, they'd either go out and celebrate it over ice cream, or they'd stay at home, playing and cuddling watching movies as she drifted to sleep in his arms. He never asked for gifts, she's a child, and even later in life he wouldn't. He never liked his birthday, until he became a dad, the first year she gifted him with her precious first words. The second with a hug, the third with a kiss, and the fourth with morning snuggles. His little bundle of joy completely changed his perspective of his birthday. What will she do this year? 

Apparently, something really special, as she was hiding from him all day, running away from him everytime he tried to get a hug or a kiss. Making him a little angry as he just wanted some affection from the little girl, but he's not getting any of it. Well at least he didn't have to wait that long, lunch was approaching and so did his baby, well not so baby anymore, hiding something behind her back as she was making her way to him. Giving her a little smile as she finally, for the first time today, showed some interest in her father. Pressing her head on his leg as she couldn't reach higher to get his attention, like he wasn't already waiting for her. Bending down to get to her eye level, he gave her a little cheek kiss as she revealed what she was keeping a secret from him all day long. It must've been something on a paper or something like that, but he couldn't quite tell as glitter was covering all of it, looking behind her to see the trail of orange and pink shimmers that would definitely be a hassle to clean. Though he didn't care right now, the only thing that matters was his gift, as narcissistic as it sounds. Taking the present from her hands only to open the envelope to reveal a folded paper. Shaking his hand in a sort of way to get rid of the sparkles, gently unfolding the paper. Eyes wide, then softening as a grin made its way to his lips. It was a family drawing. There she was holding hand with what he assumed to be him, wearing his hero costume, and their little cat to the side. Not forgetting to add her uncle Kirishima but it seemed as she crossed him, writing a small no to his side, making the blond giggle. And on the top of her paper, in bold multi-colored pencil a big "Happy birzday Baba" with a crooked heart next to it. It was nothing amazing, but he can see the thought she put into it, the love and passion she dedicated in the drawing, making him ever so proud of his girl. Giving her the biggest hug, lifting her up in the air as he thanked her. He was honestly having the time of his life, always, with his little bundle of joy…. 

14 years….

Rituals are bound to fade one day. And considering spending his birthday together as a ritual, he wasn't that surprised when it broke. But it still hurts. It's the first birthday in 14 years he spends alone, without her by his side. With her laughs to fill the air, with her hugs to warm his heart, with her "I love you dad"s. Instead she decided to spend the night with her friends. And the worse thing about all of it, she hadn't even acknowledged him all day long. Teenagers… 

Bored out of his mind, and too sad to do anything, even spending the night with Kirishima. He couldn't bring himself to move from the couch, laying under his blankets. Pathetic Katsuki, you've been limping around all day long like a heartbroken teenager! Man up it's just a night away. At this point he had no idea if he was sad that he's not spending the night with his daughter or if he was just worried about her. It's not the end of the world! He can still get out, have fun on his birthday like everyone. He still can….. But he doesn't want to. He wants her. He wants to hug her, mess her hair, listen to her drag his names as he teases her about her crush. He wants to cuddle up with her as they watch their favorite show for the fifteenth time. And fuck, is he crying right now? It's just…. It feels like just yesterday he was teaching her how to lace up her shoes, warning her about boys. It felt like just yesterday, she took her first steps, yelled her first swear, she gave him the middle finger for the first time. She just grew up so fast, how can he not be sad? And his tears didn't stop rolling as he looked at the fridge, family drawings she made, the highest score on a maths exam…. He was just so proud of her. He was just so proud to call this little daredevil with a soft heart his daughter. And he was so proud of the woman she grew up to be. 

Thinking so much about her, it seemed like she sensed it. Right before midnight, a special ringtone shook him awake. It was her! Is she ok?! What if something happened to her?! Shooting out from under the blankets to answer the call, mind drowning in fear, until he heard her gentle voice, slightly above a whisper so her friends don't listen to her. "Happy birthday dad, I love you so much!"

18 years…. 

Sadness, it was all he was feeling lately. The thought of her being already so grown up, he didn't want his baby to leave him. He didn't want his baby to fly away from him. He didn't want his daughter to forget about him…. But there's some things in life that you can't stop. And one of them was the departure of his girl to college, leaving him alone, with their old cat, just to stare at all her childhood photos, relive all the memories, and when he gets her occasional texts, it never fails to make him smile and tug at his heart as tears threaten to fall. 

Though on his birthday, she made sure to make it as special as possible, even if she wasn't near him. Going out to get his mail like every morning, he noticed a special letter. One decorated with glitter, orange and pink. Excitement flowing in his vain as he knew exactly where that special gift came from, or to be exact from who. Running inside and gently opening up the letter, wanting to keep it intact to save it. He couldn't help but sob at the words in front of him, the love they expressed…. 

    "Dear baba… 

     It's your special day! So I thought I'd make it even more special and write to you how I truly feel. 

    I know it's been hard, and I haven't been the easiest to raise. But can you blame me for the temper I inherited from you? Can you blame me for the loud voice I got from you? Can you blame me for the love and care and sweetness I offer the word that I learned from you? 

    I know what you're thinking, cause I thought about it too. Do you ever wonder, like me, about what would've happened if I was never a part of your life? Do you ever wonder, like me, what it would've been like if I had a mother, to braid my hair and caress my cheeks? To lull me to sleep with angelic voice and the smile that would appear everytime I do something right? Do you ever wonder, like me, if I never were a mistake? But I don't blame dad, it's not your fault. I'm not asking you to change anything, there's nothing you can do. And I understand. 

    Do you want to know what though? All of these are just what if's… In reality I wouldn't change a thing, and I know you won't either. In reality I don't need that motherly love, I only need yours. I need your rough hands to pinch my cheeks, I need your loud voice to praise me up, I need your evil smirk to boost me up. 

     I've seen your tears dad, I heard your cries. I've shed those tears too dad, and I bet you heard my cries. You wish you had someone, I wish that too. You wish you were better, I wish I was that too. But now I know, life might be us two. And I'm so ok with that. All I need in life is you. My angel and devil, my father and so much more, my number one hero…..

      Happy birthday to the most wonderful hero, to my best friend, to my one and only! Happy birthday baba! I love you!

                           From your daughter xoxo"

Tags

(@babybakuu )

[mrs-hyperfixed-writes]

Guardian Angel

I have a request if you don't mind? (Totally feel free to ignore it though!) Mark is lonely after Celine leaves, so Damien and/or the DA gives him a cat (or maybe Mark finds one out in the rain and brings it in). Animals can sense the presence of the supernatural, so the cat can tell that the Entity in the house is trying to mess with Mark's head. The cat keeps ruining the Entity's plans, so it tries to get rid of the cat. When the Entity eventually tries to make a deal with Mark, he is like "WTF, no! You tried to kill my cat! (ง'̀-'́)ง"

@the-tragic-hero-and-you if you want me to stop tagging you in my Actor stories just let me know xx

If this felt a bit rushed at the end it was because I was desperately trying to get it finished and out.

 She was gone. 

It almost didn’t seem real. The Actor was sure that if he pinched himself then he would wake up from this horrible nightmare. This was nothing but a bad dream. That deep pit in his stomach, that cracking that he felt inside his chest, the pounding in his head. . .They would all go away once he woke himself up. He would sit bolt upright in bed covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Moonlight would stream through the windows to show the late hour and a body would stir next to him between the silk sheets. He’d look over at her and sigh in relief before sliding back down and pulling her to his chest. 

But try as he might to wake himself, this was reality. How long had his Celine been gone? A day? A week? A month? He didn’t know, time seemed to blend together. All he knew was that she had left, and taken a large part of his heart with her.

***

If people didn’t know better, they might think that the manor on top of the hill was abandoned. There were never any lights on, and no one had been maintaining the flora that had once been the epitome of prim and proper. Now the hedges were overgrown and the grass tall enough to obscure any rocks that someone may trip on, the cobblestone path that led up to the front door was beginning to suffer with the weeds that had grown between the stones. But people noticed how every week two men would drive up with bags of groceries and toiletries and leave them on the doorstep of the house before driving away. And only when they were out of sight of the house would the front door creak open and a man in a red robe would take everything inside. So no, the manor on top of the hill - as desolate as it may be - was not abandoned. But life had left with the mistress of the house.

***    

The wind and rain was relentless. The windows of the manor shook with the force of it. And as the wind wailed outside, Mark found that he wanted to join in. Recently, it had seemed that all he had been doing was crying and going down to his wine cellar to drink himself into a sleep. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was sitting in a bed that hadn’t had its sheets changed in weeks holding onto the pillow that she had laid her head on. It was pathetic, he knew that. His pride took a fatal blow every time he did it, but he couldn’t help himself.  

Thinking about her hurt. He couldn’t even think of her name without feeling like he was twisting the knife in his chest. And she had left him for William. His brother, one of his closest friends. The three of them plus Damien had been thick as thieves in childhood. There had been no secrets between the two of them, no story too embarrassing to share.

And none of it mattered to either of them. 

He didn’t know who instigated the relationship. Would it make him feel better to know? Probably not. Did they always have feelings for each other? Surely not? There must have been a time when Mark was enough in her eyes. He could have had any woman he wanted and he chose her. Didn’t that idea give her at least a little bit of satisfaction? He was rich, famous, and he loved her dearly. He had given her everything in the world. If she had asked he would have taken the moon from the sky and hung it on a chain to give to her as a necklace, even if it had sat at the bottom of her jewellry box for the rest of her days.

In the end it meant nothing. Two people he had cared about had spit on him and left him to drown in his own sorrows. And Damien? Damien. He knew. Maybe he hadn’t approved of William and Celine’s affair, but he hadn’t said a goddamn thing to Mark about it. Mark had used his wealth and influence so. Many. Times to bail Damien out of any trouble he had ever gotten himself in, but that meant nothing too. Everything Mark had done meant nothing. 

Mark meant nothing. 

Not even a year ago, he had been a man full of confidence and pride with a manor that was worth more than some entire towns. He had a chef and butler to take care of his needs. But now. . . Mark could barely get out of bed unless he had a drink. He had sent Chef and Benjamin home, and now the manor was falling into a state of disrepair. Sometimes he had fits of anger where he’d throw furniture against the walls. Then he’d break down, regretting all that hubris and confidence that had dictated his life. 

And sometimes there was a voice. It didn’t belong to him and he didn’t like it, but it came from inside his head. Whenever he heard it he wondered if he was going mad. He wondered if Celine would be happier knowing that she had destroyed him.

You hate them don’t you? Don’t lie, it hissed with that serpentine voice. 

Did he? He had known them for so long. He didn’t know if he had it in him to truly hate them. They had so much history.

How can you not? Do you think they even spared a thought for you? Clearly not while they were fucking when your back was turned. They deserve your hate.

Had they really never thought of him? Not once in their entire affair?

You’ve been forgotten. By everyone. No one is coming back for you.

It was right of course. 

They deserve your hate.

They did.

You hate them.

He hated- 

A loud banging brought him out of his thoughts. Those thoughts and feelings that had started to cloud his judgement dissipated like a puff of smoke. He didn’t hate them. Not yet. 

That banging sounded again. The front door. Someone was at his front door.

***

It took a considerable amount of willpower on the Actor’s part to drag himself out of his bed and down to the front door. Part of him hoped that whoever it was would give up soon and leave him to his torment. Another part of him craved human contact so badly that he found himself wanting to rush to the door. 

Bracing himself, he grabbed the door handle and twisted. The door creaked open, and he came face to face with the DA.

He didn’t know who he had expected. Maybe part of him hoped that Celine had come back to him. When was he going to learn that things were never going to go back to the way they were? Would he always hold out hope for a reality that was gone? He should’ve realised what he had when he had it. But he snapped himself back to reality before he could dwell on those things, and instead he turned his attention to the DA. 

At their feet they had placed a single giant bag full of shopping. Past the toiletries that had been stacked on the top he couldn’t see what else was in the bag. That was strange, Chef and Benjamin had dropped off food for him not that long ago. He wasn’t running out just yet. (Y/n) looked better than Mark did, but dark circles underneath their eyes told tales of sleepless nights. He entertained the thought of them being kept up thinking of him. But surely that wasn’t true. No one thought of him. They held a black umbrella over their head. Mark noted that they were hiding one hand behind them, but he didn’t care enough to ask what they were holding.

They sighed in relief when he answered, but that was quickly followed by a look of utter sadness and a wrinkle of the nose when they took in the sight and the smell of him. To summarise, Mark smelled of a bar that had been abandoned with all the bottles on the shelf opened. He looked even worse. He looked like a dead man. It was half true.

“Mark-”

“Did Damien send you?” He asked them, a hint of the resentment he felt for the mayor creeping into his voice.

(Y/n) shook their head. “ No. But he’s worried about you. It's been a month and a half and no one has heard from you.”

Was that it? It had only been around forty five days? It had felt like an eternity.

“I don’t care,” Mark whispered, letting even more of his resentment show as he began to shut the door.

(Y/n) shot their free hand out and pushed against the door, and for all that anger that he had towards Damien, he didn’t put up a fight when they opened it again. He didn’t feel the same way for the DA. They hadn’t known. And they had been the one to comfort him when he had discovered the affair. He felt nothing but a sort of love for the DA, but right now he wasn’t of the mind to share that with them. He was afraid that whatever he felt for them - be it friendship or something else - would be rejected. And he was too damaged from Celine and William to consider moving on.

They swallowed, “Mark, I’m here because I’m worried. You sent Chef and Benjamin home and there are never any lights on and you smell as if-” They had to take a deep breath before they continued, seemingly finding it difficult to keep their own emotions in check. “I’m sorry I haven’t been up as much as I would have liked to be. I promise I’ll try to be here more. But you need something to love. You need something to keep you company.”

With that, they brought their hidden hand out from behind their back. They held a fuzzy bundle as black as the night sky. For a second, he was confused until it opened its amber eyes and stared at him.

“A cat?”

(Y/n) looked almost bashful now. “I found him two days ago. He was abandoned on the side of the road. No owner and only about a year and a half old. No fleas or diseases either. He needs a home.”

They held the kitten out for him to take. He was so small. Small enough that he could easily be mistaken for a kitten. He briefly thought of rejecting this gift, but in the end the Actor reached out and gently took it from (y/n)’s hand. Something in his heart twisted when it snuggled into his chest and let out a high cry.

Mark looked back up at the DA, stared into their hopeful eyes. “I’ll try.”

They sighed in relief. “One week Mark. I’ll come and check on you in one week. I promise.”

Hesitantly, they leaned forward, brushing his cheek with their lips. And as they walked away, Mark reached up and touched where their lips had been.

He had watched the DA get in their car and drive away before taking the bag in and shutting the door before sliding down against it, the cat still bundled up against his chest. He rummaged through the bag, finding all the food and cat toys that (y/n) had hidden beneath the shower gel and soap. Bless them. 

He looked down. The little black bundle uncurled himself and looked up at Mark. It put its paws on his chest and stood upright, using Mark’s hand as a platform for support. He let out another little cry. Mark brought his head closer, and was a little surprised when it licked his nose and bumped itself against his face. It was as it was telling him it’s okay, I’m here now. Mark was interested to see how this was going to turn out.

Not that much followed for the rest of that day. Mark tried to name the kitten and failed. He fed him and tried to play with him, and when the clock struck midnight he took the cat up to bed with him and passed out.

***

Mark was cold. Colder than he’d ever been. He was caught in a blizzard, the snow coming down so thick that he couldn’t see three feet in front of him. His feet were numb. He barely had the strength to trudge through the snow, the cold sapping all of his strength like a leech. But he had to go on. He felt like something would be waiting for him if he could just keep moving.

Eventually he came to his mansion, the only sign of civilization on this frozen wasteland. The lights were on in the living room. He made his way to where the front door should have been, but to his horror he realized that it was gone, nothing but a brick wall in its place. He fought his way through the snow to press himself against the glass of the window to peer inside.

Celine was there. She was smiling and laughing, and Mark’s heart twisted and how beautiful she looked with a smile on her face. There had been a time where she had always wore that smile for him. Maybe that’s what this smile was for. Maybe she was waiting for him. 

And then he saw William, and the cold that pierced his heart had nothing to do with the blizzard. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting little kisses along her neck to make her giggle before she twisted around in his arms to kiss him deeply. 

Mark had to look away, the wound in his heart ripped freshly open. He felt something behind him, something dark. He was too afraid to turn around, even when he felt it idly play with the hair atop his head. Something so casual and yet it inspired such a deep feeling of fear in Mark that he was frozen.

This happiness is at your expense pet.

He didn’t like that. Both that whatever was behind him used a pet name as if to claim him and the fact of William and Celine’s relationship.

The kiss. They fuck. They spend their days together while you rot. It’s not fair is it?

It wasn’t fair. But he didn’t want to listen to this. He wanted to cover his ears and make it go away. But he was stuck. Frozen. A prisoner in his own body. He couldn’t even do a thing as he felt something long and cold - a finger most likely - trail up his spine through his thin robe. He didn’t want it touching him. 

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Doesn’t it?

You could make them feel what you feel. You could make them understand.

He could? He brought his eyes up to the window again. Celine and William’s passion had begun to pick up now, hands fumbling to take clothes off and share their love right in the Actor’s own home. 

He wanted them to understand. He wanted - 

A piercing shriek rang through the frozen hellscape and Mark felt a small piercing pain in his chest. It was as if he was being stabbed with a little needles. The presence behind him hissed, angry at the disruption. He felt it slither away into the storm. His vision began to fade at the edges, the shrieking getting louder and louder.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open. A dream. Just a bad dream. And the source of the shrieking as on his chest. His cat stood, kneading his claws through the fabric of Marks robe. When he lifted a hand to move him, the cat moved closer to his face to shriek even louder, desperately trying to wake him.

“Alright, alright. I’m awake,” he groggily said as he sat up.

The kitten stopped making that high-pitched wail, deciding instead to press his head up against Mark’s hand and give him affectionate licks. He needed to be fed. Mark picked the small bundle up in one hand and made his way down to the kitchen.

***    

The Actor hadn’t left his bedroom door open when he had gone down to feed the cat. He was sure that it had been shut firmly behind him. He stepped in, and realised that it was so much darker than it should have been. Memories flashed. He remembered Celine and him spending nights in each other's arms, him and Celine talking of the future, him and Celine speaking about the family they would start. That last memory hurt more than the others.

She’s planning this with William now.

That voice. The voice that haunted him both in dreams and in reality. And in that moment Mark knew that it was the one responsible for the absence of light. His bedroom had never been a place of such pain before this moment, even when all Actor had done was curl up with the pillow Celine had used.

She shares the dreams of a family with that Colonel.

Mark fell to his knees, afraid that they would give out on their own. He didn’t want to think about William and Celine’s future children. He hated them already.

The corner of the room, it was so much darker than the rest of it. No light would ever breach that dark stain. And he knew that that was where the voice was coming from. He stared, finding the shape of something so monstrous that the Actor’s mind could barely comprehend it.

And that stain grew. Grew until it was right in front of him and a long clawed finger reached out of that dark mass and used it to tilt Mark’s chin up. 

But you can stop it. Can stop them. Why should they be happy?

They didn’t deserve happiness. They had taken his. They had spit on his. 

Kill their chances. They don’t deserve them. I can help you. I can-

Mark was so hypnotized by the entity that he didn’t even see the black furry ball dart into the room. But he did notice when it planted itself between them and hissed and spat. The entity shrank back, and if Mark didn’t know better he would say it was afraid of the cat. The little black furball hissed and spat as if it was a black panther, screaming and yowling with so much anger that Mark was stunned. This cat was prepared to fight the being for him. It looked like it was about to lunge. It came to rescue him.

Without thinking, he scooped him up in a hand and bolted out of that room and slammed the door shut, shuddering at what had just gone down. And when he held the cat up to his face he couldn’t help but let out a small smile when it covered his nose with affectionate kisses.

***

It happened again. Mark had let the cat out to use the toilet, and he felt that being behind him. Felt those dark hands on his shoulder. Felt it slam the door shut to keep the cat out. And heard it whisper Damien.

Do you feel like a fool pet? Do you feel like a fool for trusting Damien? For helping him? Do you remember that scandal? The one where the Mayor was nearly exposed for gambling? It was a poker addiction was it not? He nearly gave away the entire town

Mark did remember. It hadn’t really been a scandal. Mark had got there before Damien did something drastic. Mark had paid off all his debts. Mark had paid for him to get private help to confront his addiction. Damien had said that now he would be forever in Mark’s debt.

So you do remember. You would think that a man in your debt would have told you your wife was fucking your brother.

Somewhere in the back of his head Mark knew what it was trying to do. But he was beginning to lose the will to fight. He hated this thing. Hated the way it touched him. Hated the way it called him pet. Hated the ownership it had over him. But it was so hard. And on top of that, the part of him that wanted revenge was growing. And he could do nothing to stop it.

It snaked a finger up his cheek like a lover. Mark wanted to vomit. 

Then the entity let out a cry. And when Mark wrench himself free of that grip he saw his cat. He was absolutely furious, and somehow had a mouthful of darkness and was tearing into it like there was no tomorrow. The entity dissipated, leaving to presumably go lick its wounds. He looked down at that furious bundle. How had he gotten in? The was only one window open on the second - 

Mark knelt. “Did you climb up to the second floor for me?” 

The cat just started to climb him, coming to a stop on his shoulder and rubbing its head against his face. Mark couldn’t describe just how much he was beginning to love this cat.

***

That thing had lost its patience. Mark could feel it. A dark cloud stood before him, that entity hiding within. He had come into the living room for. . . What had it been for? He couldn’t remember. All thoughts had fled his mind when he came back to face this dark cloud. From within, he heard the snake-like voice of the entity, no longer just a voice in his head to make him doubt his sanity. Tendrils of darkness reached out, spreading that ghastly darkness out through the room, wrapping it around him. Isolating him. He could see nothing beyond this blackness. 

She fucked him while you were married. She kissed you and told you she loved you all the while she was thinking of him. Would you like to know how long that went on?

Mark shook his head. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to-

A year. For an entire year she lied to year face. Neither of them even respected you enough to end the marriage first. She’d fuck you half-heartedly then leave your bed to meet him outside. So you remember your favourite spot in the garden? That was the place where they did it the most.

The Actor had proposed to her there.  

You see how little you mean? You want revenge. You want to make them suffer.

He did.

You want them to feel your pain.

He wanted to make them feel his pain.

You want their entire lives to fall apart before they even realize we were involved.

He wanted-

A familiar shriek rang through the air. Mark snapped his head to the side just in time to see his cat fly at the entity. The entity let out a scream of its own, and when the cat came close enough a tendril flicked out and smacked it away. The cat hit the far wall and slid to the ground, landing with a thud. It tried weakly to get up before collapsing back onto its side and letting out a pitiful meow.

Darkness closed in again. But all Mark saw was red.  

I can-

“Get out.”

Time stood still. And if Mark didn’t know any better he’d say that the entity was lost for words. Stunned into silence. 

I-

“Get. Out.”

The entity laughed. You think-

Mark threw his hands up and screamed, “This is my house! You’re trespassing! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

White hot fury coarsed through Mark’s veins. It had tried to kill his cat. His anger was so extreme that it radiated out of him like the darkness radiated out of this thing. He wouldn’t stand for things anymore. Celine and William, they weren’t worth his time. They were insignificant. He didn’t care about revenge. He wanted to forget them. And he wanted to be left alone by this creature to take care of his cat. And as that horrible creature’s influence started to release him, so too did that darkness start to dissipate. Something like real fear was in the air. But it wasn’t his. 

Wait! I-

“You tried to kill my cat.” Mark took a deep breath. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

The fear was thicker now, and that darkness shattered the living room window on its way out. Mark had felt lighter than he had in years. He rushed to his cat, scooping him up in his hands. The cat purred. He was going to be okay. 

“My guardian angel,” he murmured. “Angel.”

Mark wondered what to do next. Taking Angel to the vet would probably be best. Then maybe beg Chef and Benjamin to come back home. And maybe, just maybe, he could ask the DA to come over for a cup of coffee.

Things were going to be okay.  

[the--sad--hatter]

Mischief, Meet Your Match (Loki x Reader)

Warnings: Bad language, Violence, Loki. 

Summary: Your first meeting with The Asgardian Prince. 

The first time you’d met the God of Mischief and Lies it had been in a fight. Strange and Thor had informed you all that Loki was back on earth and up to no good. That was all The Avengers needed to hear before they suited up and trekked off to capture the dark god.

 Somehow, probably because of your awful luck, you ended up in a one on one fight with Loki. He’d managed to blast Steve back into a troupe of his alien allies and you didn’t waste a second to take Steve’s place in the battle, springing onto Loki’s shoulders and wrapping your thighs around his neck just like Nat had taught you.

 “Normally, I’d introduce myself before we got this far but I’ll make an exception for you sweetheart.” You huffed as Loki tried to prise you off of him.

 “Stop flirting with the Alien psychopath who tried to conquer the planet!” Sam snapped at you through the comms.

Loki grabbed the back of your tactical suit, fisting the tight material and literally dragging you of off him, throwing you several feet away. He slowly strutted over to you, sneering at you.

 “I was intrigued about the new members of the Avengers but I see they are just as pathetic as the originals.” He said cruelly.

 “I wouldn’t say that.” You smirked, like you knew something he didn’t.

 There was a brief second of confusion and suspicion from Loki before a shadow passed over him and he looked up too late as Sam swept down and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling on the ground next to you. You pointed a gun at him but he almost absentmindedly pushed your arm up, making you accidentally shoot at Sam. The bullet hit his wings and Sam swore loudly as he spiralled to the ground in a painful sounding crash.

 “Sorry sweetie!” You yelled.  

 Your attention was diverted and you only just managed to move your head out of the way before a knife was imbedded in the ground where your skull had been only half a second prior.

 “Harsh!” You told him, offended.

 He smirked and opened his mouth to make a biting remark but you leaned back on your elbows, putting your weight on them and pushing your legs up, twisting around in the air to kick Loki in the face. His head snapped back and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

 “Harsh.” He rebutted and backhanded you.

 The blow was excruciating and sent you slamming back into the dirt, facedown this time. You pushed yourself up, ears still ringing as you desperately fumbled at your belt for a weapon, making pained noises. Loki wasn’t aware you could see his shadow on the ground in front of you, or that you had enhanced healing abilities. You saw the shadow of the knife in his hand as he plunged it towards your back. You twisted around, catching his wrist in mid thrust and snapping the cuff around it, simultaneously wrapping your legs around his waist so that your momentum carried you both to the ground, leaving him in the dirt this time and allowing you to snap the cuff on his other wrist.

 He looked down at his wrists and frowned when he obviously realised they were inhibiting his magic. You scoffed and he looked up at you, noting how remarkably unharmed you were.

 “You fooled me.” He said, sounding half annoyed, half, impressed.

 “Oh but woe is me, I am but a weak mortal woman.” You said dramatically, putting your hand to your forehead and swooning dramatically.

 “At least you can admit it.” He sneered.

 You pulled your hand away from your head and straightened up, throwing a concerned look at him.

 “Mischief, do you not know what sarcasm is?” You asked with faux worry.

 “Of course I do.” He hissed.

 “It’s ok to admit when you don’t know something, I won’t laugh at you.” You assured him kindly, though your expression was anything but.

 “I know what sarcasm is brat, and when I free myself from these bindings I assure you, I will laugh when I make you pay for daring to challenge me.” He said flatly.

 “Sounds kinky.” You sniggered.

 He grinned salaciously at you when he realised you were literally straddling him.

 “This is the second time in as many minutes that you have wrapped your legs around me. Is it possible that the Midgardians don’t hate me as much as I have been led to believe?” He asked with a wicked grin.

 “What can I say, you’re pretty, egotistical and an asshole. You’re just my type.” You quipped.

 Sam stomped over to you and you both looked up at him with innocent expressions.

 “Stop. Flirting. With. The. Homicidal. Maniac.” He demanded.

 “Make me.” You challenged as you stood up, pulling Loki to his feet.

 “So possessive, so controlling. Does it really bother you so much to see her fawn over me?” Loki taunted.

 “Speaking of fawning, Thor was right. He really did fall for your ‘charms’.” Sam said smugly, turning to you.

 Loki looked between the two of you, puzzling it out.

 “Aww come on Mischief, why did you think they gave me the magical handcuffs?” You asked him, flicking them pointedly.

 Thor hadn’t actually said anything like that, he had said Loki would underestimate you because he didn’t know you and you were a mortal.

 Loki didn’t need to know that though… He also didn’t need to know that you weren’t the only one carrying a pair of magical handcuffs on your person.

 You were really glad he had the cuffs on because the look he was giving you promised death, a slow and painful one. Abruptly he blinked and the fury was gone, replaced by a charming, flirtatious smile.

 “My brother was bound to be right about something eventually.” He practically purred.

 “Don’t.” Sam warned as you opened your mouth to reply.

 “Quit cockblocking me birdie.” You huffed.

 “Better behave kitten, Cap’s coming.” Sam said under his breath.

 Steve was indeed trekking towards the three of you and you guessed that meant he and the team had taken care of the alien mercenaries Loki had hired.

 “Good job you two.” He said, nodding at you and Sam. “Thor, we’ve got Loki cuffed.” He said into his comm.

 “Indeed, and now that you have me cuffed kitten, whatever shall you do with me?” Loki leaned down to whisper in your ear.

 “Strap you to a rocket and fire you into the sun? Put you in a vat of cement, wait for it to harden and drop it in the ocean?” Sam snapped, having overheard him.

 “We’ll find a place for him, don’t worry.” Steve said harshly, giving Loki one of the hardest stares you’d seen from Steve before, dragging him away from you.

 “Bye Mischief.” You waved, almost sadly.

 You could feel Sam’s disgusted glare burning a hole through your skull.

 “What?” You asked him innocently.

 “Stop flirting with the bad guys!” He exclaimed.

 “But they’re so much more fun.” You pouted.

 Loki turned his head to look back at you and sent a sly wink your way. More fun by far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N - I’d love to hear what you thought of this if you’re up to it. 

I’m testing the waters for a Loki series. 

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[iimuchakk]

Seven seas babies AU - The Journey

Hinahoho’s babies xxx

The five little beans and their father are so excited to go back to Sindria to see Kikiriku and the other’s it’s not even funny

If it wasn’t for all the commotion Hinahoho could of sworn he saw Ahanu smile...

Catori is already getting together her favorite clothes and weapons, whilst Aponi’s already packed

She’s desperate to get a tan

poor babies so pale

Of course Bodaway and Badzill are super duper excited!

People back in Sindria aren't use to their pranks and mischief

they’re pretty sure big bro Ja’far will appreciate the break from work to deal with them

unless he decides the break from work grants him permission to break their necks

wouldn’t be surprising

Turns out, Hinahoho didn’t realize how hard it was going to be keeping himself and five children all together on one ship despite its gigantic size

“Give me back my hair brush Catori!” 

“No Aponi this is mine!”

“DADDY!”

Too much drama for the poor Imuchakk man!

The twin boys are no better

Every second he looks away he has a new note attached to his back

At least Ahanu is being calm at least

Actually, where is Ahanu?

“OH MY SOLOMON STOP WRESTLING SHARKS!”

He’s pretty sure if Rurumu was alive they’d be to scared to pull this crap

How long is the journey over seas again?

A few months?

oh great.

how fun.

Meanwhile, Kikiriku just drinks all the alcohol he can get his hands on

Knowing family time is not always fun time

but annoying time

Ja’far’s babies xxx

Rabi has never looked so hyperactive

and that’s bad

because he is usually hyperactive anyways

has only ever met Hinahoho’s family once when they were very young

not including Kikiriku, who he is rather close with

and that’s about it

Ja’far is just as excited but shows it in smaller doses 

he’s told Rabi a bit about his old friends

though most of Rabi’s information comes from uncle sin and Drakon, who are less busy then his dad

Ja’far has to actually organize everyone's arrivals and their journeys through letter’s and magic circles, so it’s no surprise he’s tired

“No need to threat dad. I’m sure some magic trick’s will cheer you up!”

They don’t

they really don’t Rabi

So Rabi moves on

Trying to decide what color looks best on him since he’s pretty sure ginger hair is hard to match with

decide’s to go with pink, he feels it brings out his eyes

Sinbad applaud’s him on his extravagant choice

Kikiriku, Spyro and Sadiq don’t want to break his little heart and tell him he looks terrible so they just...smile(?)

Ja’far and wife-co decide an awkward thumbs up is probably best in this situation

At least the other’s arriving are all excepting...

Sinbad’s babies xxx

Does not care

Sadiq has no interest with meeting these people

From the stories he’s been hearing they’re all

tiny, flat chested

over grown

cocky, big headed

spineless, overly religious

boring, emotionless

crazy wizard people!

He already has enough of that with Rabi

boi needs no more of that craziness in his life

Sinbad’s been trying to get him excited

offering him Sharrkan’s guidance as a sword fighting teacher because -

“Your foot work really need’s work. Perhaps when you learn to control yourself better in battle, you can be as good as me~?”

g l a r e

nothing else really changes

goes about his day as usual

mentally curses the fact his dad is more clingy then usual

spends a lot of him time in the garden hiding in the bushes whilst everyone else’s happily awaits the arrival of the others

angrily chews on some near by leaves

Where’s Spyro when you need him?

Drakon’s babies xxx

Is really scared about meeting everyone

His parents speak really fondly of the old generals, and he’s worried his appearance might scare them

Tries to find something nice to wear that hide’s most of him away whilst still looking approachable

Saher laughs at him

points to Drakon

“If they can put up with his face then your looks will be easy to cope with.”

“Jee thanks mom.”

If you couldn’t tell that was sarcastic

Spyro also wants to show of a little

just a little...

and decides to make the training ground look nice and civilized so he can invite someone back to spar with

wants to show everyone he’s strong

since it’s the only quality he really like’s about himself

Is dragged to Rabi’s room to watch the boy practically cat walk his outfits

“Yes Rabi you look beautiful. CanIPleaseLeave?”

Can’t find Sadiq anywhere and is very worried

Until Kikiriku tell’s him he saw him chewing on plants that he’s fine

Spartos babies xxx

Very casual journey

wifu stays at home to keep everything in order

Spartos is practically pining after her as soon as the boat leaves the harbor

Elizabeth and Junior have never been more ashamed of their father’s pathetic display of sniveling affection. 

He’s smitten.

“Why is he so insistent about wanting to hold her...?”

“Because Liz, he was a virgin so long before he met her it probably feels weird to know he’s going to have to wait at least a year before any more shenanigans.”

“THATS NOT TRUE I JUST REALLY LOVE YOUR MOTHER “ ;((((

Whole way there is basically cheering up Spartos instead of enjoying the journey to Sindria

Elizabeth will sing for her father from time to time and brings him food, and Spartos appreciates that she tries

Junior’s attempts are less subtle...

Tries to get his dad to do stupid thing’s to get his mind off his mother like:

A: Will dad appreciate rain dancing on a boat? Possibly causing a storm

B: Fishing in shark infested waters?

C: Drowning themselves so they don’t have to deal with his whining?

Junior is very excited to meet the people in his dad’s past life

really wants to spar with someone

oh please say someone wants to spar

Elizabeth is less excited, more curious then anything.

Shes desperate to meet the king of Sindria

Not for him himself, but rather his jewelry

Masrur’s babies xxx

Wives Razol and Rehema decided they don’t want to go

For them it’s basically a holiday

Masrur has the kids with him for a month or two whilst they get to do whatever they like?

See you Masrur

Have fun~

Sadi’s only ever met Ja’far and Sinbad

likes them a lot

would appreciate it if they would arm wrestle with her

how else would she prove shes better?

Very keen to show off

In-fact Masrur want’s her too

Something about showing two people swords and magic suck compared to the fanalis race? Whatever that means.

Angelou kind of just shrugs

He’s a lot like his dad after all

You think meeting some strangers is gonna excite him? Nah

Poor Angelou just wants to rest

Knows it’s basically going to be him baby sitting Ruby

His little sister is defiantly going to be trying to prove herself?

Ever seen a fanalis punch someone in the face?!

Yes?

Ever had a fanalis punch you in the face?!

No?

Stand still!!

Masrur should probably warn the generals about her...

And Dominic. Well Dominic’s just worried

Dosent want to let his father down

He’s in touch with his feminine side

Nervous that the generals will make fun of Masrur for it

Thinking of ways to make himself seem more manly

Sharrkans babies xxx

There is no easy way to put this

Ozymandias is a little brat

On the ship he’s constantly crying

Defiantly not a sea baby

It’s okay though

Sharrkan just loves listening to crying babies when HES TRYING TO SLEEP ITS GREAT HONESTLY HES SO NOT DYING INSIDE

Always checking constantly to make sure Ozymandias isn’t sick

He remembers when his mother grew ill and Ozymandias’ mother

He can’t let that happen

Every time he walks into a room his son throws a toy snake at him

9/10 it hits him in the face

He loves his son really...

In-fact, ever since he’s had Ozymandias he’s been compeltly ignoring women

Actually now that he thinks about it he wasn’t had...you know what in a long time

Has it changed!?

Is he even doing it right!?

Que baby crying

“SOMEONE HELP ME!”

Yamraiha’s babies xxx

Dosent want to travel through a magic circle incase she hurts the baby in her belly

Boat ride it is

Ever been stuck on a month boat ride with a pregnant woman?

No

LUCKY YOU!

If she’s craving a food that isn’t there, someone is about to have a broken neck

LET HER EAT DAMMIT!

Can’t get comfortable in any position and the rocking of the boat just makes her morning sickness worst

Accidentally threw up on someone’s shoes...

Lays in bed thinking about possible baby names but can’t come up with any she likes so proceeds to cry into her pillow.

Looks fat in everything

The generals are going to think she looks fat

Sharrkan is 100% going to laugh at her being fat

Que power nap

This trip better be worth it...

Pisti’s babies xxx

Tir is ready for take off

Pisti has already decked him out in feathers galore and won’t he stop trying to climb up on every single bird he sees

She can’t help but laugh at him

He’s such a bundle of energy

No trouble at all

“HES GONNA GET HIS EYES PECKED OUT SOMEONE STOP HIM!”

Okay maybe a bit of trouble

But nothing auntie Pisti can’t solve right!

Right?...

Pisti decides to fly over to Sindria because why not? It’s a lot quicker

To stop Tir from falling off she makes a harness that she straps around the chest of the bird so Tir is facing her the whole time

BIG MISTAKE

The whole way there he’s just gargling at her and poking her boobs

Then he cries when he realises how small they are

IF HE DOSENT WATCH HIS ATTITUDE SHE WILL THROW HIM OFF THE BIRD!

Debates if it’s even worth drinking in sindria because Tir is a full time job

Pisti? Not drinking?

She joins in with Tir’s cries

It’s a painful journey with a peacock coloured Tir alright...

[corpse--diem]

Haunted Hallways | Jasmine & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @halequeenjas & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Jasmine shows Erin around a new apartment when they’re interrupted by an old friend.

It was interesting how time could keep moving and stand still all at the same time. Weeks had gone by since her world had all but gone up in flames but the world kept going. Still pushed forward. So Erin had to keep moving with it, and by the time the opportunity came to look for a new apartment, it made all the sense in the world to jump on it. Nic and Skylar had been more than gracious allowing her to stay with them as long as they had but she needed her space. Always had. Especially now, given that some lunatic felt comfortable just waltzing in and burning down buildings she frequently inhabited. The door was already open when she approached the apartment building her new realtor, a Ms. Jasmine Hale, had picked out. From the outside, the place seemed nice enough. Seemed like a place she could exist, at first glance, even if only temporarily. “Hello?” She called out, knocking on the open door before she saw the other woman. Greeting her with a smile, Erin reached out her hand. “Jasmine?” She asked tentatively. “Erin Nichols. It’s nice to meet you, finally! Sorry, I hope I’m not too late. The fog out there is extra wicked today. I had to take my time getting here,” she apologized with a crinkle of her nose.

As Jasmine had rushed up to the apartment she was showing her new client, she was grateful Erin had yet to arrive. One of the stupid floating fish had been circling her Jag and she wasn’t about to become some fish’s dinner. Being late was never a good look for a professional and she wasn’t in the business of wasting people’s time. Just as she was about to head up and place some wards around and scope out the scene, she heard her name. Crap. She threw on her megawatt smile anyway and extended her hand to shake. “Yes, it’s me. Good to meet you in person, Erin.” This fog did really put a damper on the whole driving thing and the fish were weird. With a laugh, she responded, “Oh yeah, the fog is a doozy. Really uncharacteristic for it to be this thick, but better to drive safely.” She kept her face bright and smile winning to not give way to the nerves that were boiling underneath. Larry Bob was likely to show his pathetic, scraggly face to blow this rental for her. She had to hide the horrified look on her face as she opened the door and saw the stripes. She could spin this. “As you can see, this place is really into modern decor, but I think the floor plan and price here is what the real winner is.”

Jasmine was as chirpy and bright as Erin expected any good realtor to be. Not unpleasantly, though, like how an overzealous salesperson could drown you in big grins and enthusiasm. Jasmine was teeming with all of that stuff too, that much was obvious, but Erin could still breathe. She appreciated that. “Good to meet you too--” Erin started, the smile she returned drooping into a slacked jaw she couldn’t stop. Black and white stripes. Everywhere. “Christ,” she mumbled under her breath, the unexpected bold lines making her squint. There was something innately familiar about this scene she couldn’t put her finger on. Probably saw something like it in a magazine at one point. “Modern decor is…” she started, shrugging when nothing positive came to mind immediately. “Well, it’s something, alright. Definitely not my area of expertise.” Didn’t find a lot of that in a funeral home, that was for sure. With a chuckle, she raised an eyebrow in Jasmine’s direction but slowed her movements until she came to a complete stop, gesturing towards the stripes that felt like they were swallowing them whole the farther they went. “I’ve got to be honest, if the apartment looks anything like this hallway, I’m going to save you the trouble and stop the tour right now. This is…” she grimaced, shaking her head. “Like, a lot.”

Modern decor was one of her personal areas of expertise, but this definitely wasn’t it. Still, Jasmine could spin this. They’d both driven all the way out here in the crazy fog and from the video tour, the apartment itself looked darling. “I’ll admit, the exterior is a little loud for my tastes, but that’s not where most people spend a lot of their time… well, unless you like hanging in hallways but that seems weird so,” she explained with a shrug as she led them to the unit in question. Internally, she pleaded that they hadn’t decided to redecorate the interior of the unit as well. As she opened the door to the apartment, she let out a breath of relief. Totally normal just as she had planned. “See, definitely different from the hallway. I think too many buildings are trying to be trendy nowadays, but the floorplan here is amazing. You’ve got all this open space, but let’s take a look around. I always like to end with the kitchen-- if it turns out they didn’t clean something right, you don’t wanna deal with the smell the whole time you’re perusing the place.”

Oh, thank God. This whole set-up was a temporary solution--somewhere to stay while Erin waited for the insurance to kick in and the (hopeful) rebuilding to start. But even temporarily staring at an apartment that looked like the hallway was absolutely out of the question. “Oh, no, you’re so right. This is great,” she exclaimed with genuine surprise and relief. Way better than the other apartments she’d found looking on her own, anyway. “I honestly don’t need anything too fancy. If everything goes to plan, this should be temporary. I should mention that, shouldn’t I? And it’s just me and my cat, anyway. Well, and sometimes my boyfriend, but I’m usually at his place. Indoor pool guy--need I say more?” She raised a playful brow, grinning. “Pets are okay too, right?” She asked, though her attention drifted to the windows in the living room. Not a great view she determined, but not bad either. Decent enough for temporary. What felt like a small gust of wind moved past her--barely detectable if it wasn’t for the temperature. Like someone had opened a freezer right in her face. “Oh, is it always this cold? How’s the heating?” she asked, turning to Jasmine again, following closely behind as she did her thing.

There was a bright smile on her face as she saw Erin look around seemingly happy. Jasmine knew this would be a perfect spot. Nice open floor plan, decent storage space, a nice view from the window-- and for a fair price? Who wouldn’t love this place? If she wasn’t already living in her perfect waterfront home on Harris Island, she’d have snagged this place up. “I do try to make it a habit of being right,” she joked although if she was being honest, she actually meant that statement. “I think this might be the spot for you then. Not overly fancy, but still very comfortable and a practical price. And wait… isn’t indoor pool guy the one who eats water with his cereal?” Men really needed to be stopped sometimes. Water in cereal when milk wasn’t even expensive. It was definitely gross and she definitely judged him a little for it. Still, she recovered with a laugh and said, “But indoor pool. Sure it makes staying there more fun.” She’d looked over the details carefully before showing this place even if she did somehow miss the striped hallway. “Yep, cats are totally welcome! They don’t even charge pet rent,” she answered as she felt a familiar cold sensation. Oh no. She swore she would throw Larry Bob out of existence as she cursed under her breath. She clutched the bag of salt in her purse and looked around carefully only to be shocked to find a ghost that was surprisingly not Larry Bob. “Oh my god, I totally have to show you the bathtub. It’s right over there,” she gestured and quickly threw a dash of salt at the tacky ghost in the Hawaiian shirt. Who dodged her. Of freaking course!

It’d been a few years since Erin had lived in an apartment on her own, and while the circumstances that had brought her here weren’t ideal, it was a little exciting. Something of her own again. Something that wasn’t passed down and filled with ghosts of a family that no longer lived there. This could be hers, for as little or as long as she had, and the thought was a welcome one. Jasmine’s upbeat attitude had a refreshing grounding nature to it. She liked her already. “Ah. You remember that, huh?” she laughed quietly, shaking her head. “The one and the same. Bit of a dumbass--I think the water cereal speaks for itself on that. But he’s a good one,” she said, a teasing fondness in her tone. Good. Betty could live peacefully here too no problem. At this point, she had little doubt about whether or not she would be taking the place. She could picture her curled up at the large window, Nic frying up eggs in the kitchen--oh, she wanted to see the kitchen next. God, it was freezing in here though. Holding her arms against herself, she followed Jasmine, turning her head sharply at the exclamation about the bathtub. “Oh, yeah. Sure,” she nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Missed me, bitch.”

Was someone else here? A squatter, maybe? The familiar voice, that deep-throated chuckle shook her immediately. She knew that voice somehow. Her mind jumped to Roy and his goons. Was he seriously watching her this intently? How? “Jasmine?” She called out, slowly reaching for the knife in her purse. “Everything alright in--” She saw the bowl of fruit flying straight at them as she turned the corner to the kitchen. An apple smacking her shoulder when she turned and cowered away and that hearty laugh echoed through the apartment.

“Oh hell yeah. That’s what I’m talking about,” the voice boomed. Erin saw the loud Hawaiian shirt first, covered with dry blood that had soaked down from the side of his head. There was still a gash from the baseball bat she had nailed hi No, no, no. This--this wasn’t happening. Dale was dead. Dale was not standing there in her soon to be new kitchen. “...Dale?” His eyes turned dark when they fell on hers. “Miss me, sweetheart?” His grin was as sharp and vile as she remembered, and without missing a beat, he sent one of the pans hanging for show beside the stove hurtling their way.

If it wasn’t Larry Bob, apparently it was some other jackass in a Hawaiian shirt trying to crash her showings. Seriously? Jasmine was fuming now and wanted to smack this ghost into whatever ether it was supposed to be in. She had been pretty sure Erin went to go check out the bathroom, so she was surprised when he asked if she missed him. “I don’t even know you, you absolute creep,” she retorted with a glare on her face as she quickly reached into her bag for her iron rod. The familiar chill had never been comforting to her, but she wouldn’t lose her resolve to a ghost in a tacky shirt.

She saw him ready to throw and apple and her head whipped back to follow it. It clearly wasn’t aimed at her and she gasped when she saw Erin there. Shit. How was she supposed to explain this? “I’m so,” she started but quickly had to dodge a pan. There was a loud crash as it fell to the floor after colliding into the wall. “Oh hell no,” she grumbled, standing taller this time and charging toward the ghost. “You were not invited to this and I don’t know who the hell you think you are. I’d get out of here before I exorcise you out of existence. I know it must be hard to move on stuck in that awful shirt, but trust me, it’s better than what I’ll do to you.” She raced forward ready to whack him with the iron rod, but he dodged out the way, causing her to stumble forward.

Was Jasmine trying to apologize for the big ass bald ghost in the kitchen? Dale. Fucking Dale. Erin didn’t understand the how or why but there he was, and she’d be a liar if the word zombie didn’t cross her mind again. Because here he was, live and in color. She was still trying to wrap her head around it when Jasmine went on the attack. “Jasmine, don’t--” Erin started, but she was insulting the clothes on his back and charging at him anyway. Exorcise? Did she just say exorcise? Sounded like some Blanche-flavored ghost bullshit she wanted nothing to do with. “Don’t worry lady, you’ll have your turn,” he growled, giving Jasmine a good kick from behind after she stumbled forward.

Erin ran forward out of instinct after her, stopping in her tracks when Dale turned around only feet from her now. His smile wicked, verging into a sneer. “Been a while, huh?” He asked, reaching for anything close. Both of their eyes widened for different reasons when he managed to get a hold of a display knife out of it’s holding block. Erin stepped back with every step forward, shaking her head. “No, no, no--you’re dead,” was all she could manage. She was sure of it - she’d burned his body and that ugly blood stained shirt herself. This wasn’t possible. There shouldn’t have been a body to come back, even if this was some sort of zombie situation. But here he was anyway, swinging the blade at her. She stumbled on the pan that he’d tossed earlier, falling back when another swing of his arm narrowly missed. Grabbing it, she used it as a shield when the blade came down, leaving a dent. Fuck. Yep. Didn’t matter how at this point. He was very much real. “Jasmine!” Erin hollered for help, clambering backwards.

The kick in the back she got from this ghosty asshole as she moved forward hurt, but Jasmine wasn’t about to let this rando spirit ruin this showing. She quickly recovered and tightened her grip on the iron rod. A horrified look crossed her face as she realized Erin was charging toward the ghost who was clearly still stuck in a mid life crisis without any salt or iron. “Don’t,” she called out, but it was too late. She was already in range of the Danny Devito knock off and now he was picking up a knife. She swore she’d banish him from existence right now if he used that knife on Erin. That was a $400 chef’s knife and he’d ruin it. Or worse, it’d be stuck in evidence forever. “Hey, asshole, over here,” she called out as she reached out for the salt on the counter. “Maybe next time you choose to haunt a place, stay out of the kitchen you absolute buffoon of a ghost!” She threw a dash of salt at him, which had to sting, but he was still with them. Ugh. She tossed the salt to Erin and raised her iron rod, daring this jackass to take her on.

Salt? What the fuck was she supposed to do with this? Erin racked her brain, trying to remember something Blanche had mentioned about it -- but it seemed to work. His physical form wavered just enough for him to drop the knife and let out a hiss. “God, you fucking b--” He hollered, turning his head to Jasmine, the dried blood on the side of his head the most glaring thing. Erin kicked the knife down the hallway, scrambling to sit up before taking Jasmine’s lead. His fist missed Jasmine when another handful of salt burned his corporeal form and he flickered again, like someone trying to blow out a candle. “You both want to die today? That’s fine by me, chickadee. I’ve got all the time in the fucking world,” he practically snarled, grabbing for Jasmine once he got a hold of himself again.  

It seemed Erin didn’t hesitate too long on the salt. Small miracles were still miracles, but anger rose in Jasmine the moment he grabbed hold of her again. “Oh, hell no. Get your ugly ghost hands off my blouse,” she yelled as she kept her grip solid on the iron rod in her left hand and stabbed it through him. There was something nausea-inducing in the feeling of an iron rod going through his very much solid form, but she could feel that he was a ghost. Plus, the salt had worked on him. The iron did, too, and soon enough after some choice words he faded away. She let out the breath she had been holding before straightening her jacket and blouse and turning to Erin. “Okay, excuse my French here, but what the fuck,” she exclaimed. “It’s clear you know Mr. Wannabe Tommy Bahama over here, so what’s the deal?”

Ghost. Erin definitely heard the word ghost come out of Jasmine’s mouth. Fuck that. Fuck ghosts. Fuck Dale. Thankfully Jasmine shared the same sentiments. With wide-eyes, she watched as he practically dissolved before her eyes, gone as quickly and violently as he’d come. Something told her he wasn’t gone-gone though. The room was still as cold as it had been before, like a slightly wind chill nipping at her skin. Erin shifted uncomfortably, straightening her clothes as she tried to think of an adequate explanation. “He, uh--” Erin cleared her throat, shaking her head. “He was an old co-worker. It didn’t… you know. End well,” she nodded. That was all she needed to know, right? Her eyes narrowed at Jasmine. “How did you know he was a ghost? He was--” she held out a hand, tapping her forearm with her pointer finger. “Tangible. He could hold stuff. I thought they weren’t supposed to do that.”

It dawned on her that she said ghost outloud and Jasmine mentally cursed herself. Thankfully Erin didn’t find the concept to be too far fetched. At the mention of him being an old coworker, she immediately had a kindred feeling. Funny enough, they both had old coworkers as ghosts following them around. “Funny, I’ve got a pain in the ass coworker that’s a ghost, too. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to see yours. I just happened to be ‘blessed’ with the gift of seeing ghosts… and of getting rid of them. Since you’re not totally running for the hills, I’m an exorcist.” At the question of being tangible, she grumbled. She was thoroughly over this whole ghosts being solid thing. “I don’t know what’s going on there, but it’s a thing right now. Ghosts seem to be solid some of the time and I’m not loving it. So no, he’s not supposed to be able to do that and you shouldn’t have been able to see him.” Realizing this ghost had it out for her, she added, “Whatever place you move into, I’m throwing up some wards for you.” Talk about full service realty.

Jasmine’s words did little to comfort Erin, and it was even less of a relief to know that Dale was probably hanging around with her long before this. That cold feeling wasn’t entirely new--just something she’d shrugged off on more than one occasion. Awesome. Her heart was in the process of dropping to her stomach as Jasmine spoke, only perking up at ‘exorcist’. “Right,” she drawled with a hint of unintentional skepticism in her voice. “I hope yours at least shopped at places that weren’t tacky beach gift shops,” she murmured, trying to lighten the tightness suddenly enveloping her chest. Didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. “All I know is that they exist. I’ve never seen one before. Ever,” She said with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through her hair. Is that what Blanche had to endure on a daily basis? She couldn’t blame her for her freakouts if that was the case. “If he’s not supposed to be like that, then how is he like that? And do they always--uh, you know. Look like that?” She gestured towards her head, a reference to the bloody crack in his skull. The one Erin had put there months and months ago. Her heart beat hard again and she started to pick up the dented pan and knife at her feet, wincing at the scuff marks on both. Her eyes filled with fear, jumping back up to Jasmine. “He’s not going to come back, is he?”

It was evident to Jasmine that Erin wasn’t exactly comfortable with this news. Not that she could blame her. It was likely that this tacky ghost had been following her around for longer than she’d known which was far from comforting. “Worse, when he’s off work, he had crocs in 10 different colors,” she joked to keep the mood from getting too heavy. Of course Erin had never seen a ghost before. It wasn’t a gift that most people had and had to be alarming if you weren’t entirely used to it. Hell, even she was alarmed from time to time. “That makes sense, I’m not sure why people can see them now and why they’re solid. Probably some bigger White Crest bullshit like the fog and the mimes. But yeah, they do usually look like that. Well, not that specifically, but any injuries that killed them are still there as a ghost. Not always pretty, but to be fair, I don’t think your guy here was all that pretty to look at when he was alive either.” Jasmine started tidying up a little bit and put the knife back in its rightful spot. Dale had really come in and made a mess of the kitchen. At least no one was hurt. “The iron will have him gone for at least a few hours. Whatever place you pick, I’ll put wards up. Actually, wherever you’re currently staying should have wards, too. It keeps them out.”

Erin tried to laugh at the joke Jasmine volleyed back at her but it came out more like a stunted, heavy breath. “He sounds like the worst kind of person, honestly,” she said a bit distantly, her brow raised in harsh skepticism. Ghosts. Fucking ghosts. Dale’s ghost. It was hard to focus on anything else but those two things right now. How long had he been following her? How the fuck was he solid now suddenly? Skipping town and going into hiding, putting this place behind her just kept looking better and better every day. “Aren’t we just… super lucky to live in a town like this?” She asked, teeth tight against her smile and her fist slightly clenched. God, she was tired. But for all the nonsense they’d just experienced, this apartment fortunately looked just as good as it had before things got weird. “Oh, yeah, please. I’ll take all the wards you can possibly give me. Anything you’ve got. Like, I will personally pay you extra just for the wards,” she said, finally letting out a long breath, trying to think of anything but the sound of her baseball bat crunching skull bone or that toothy grin. He was gone. They were fine. For now. “But that asshole sure as hell isn’t going to stop me from missing out on a great apartment.” She paused a beat, nodding towards Jasmine, a gentler smile finding its way to the surface. “I’ll take it.”

[hothian-snow]

Sparagmos: First Draft

To celebrate me reaching 32K with my WIP, here’s a bunch of drabbles which inspired the initial first draft. I might reuse one or two scenes, but not the stuff with Darth Zhorrid. Both Yen and her master has changed a lot through my second revision of the fic too, and so has my writing style. Enjoy!

Darth Kharopos knew damn well that he was intimidating. He must be, lest all the other Darths devour him whole. He was also acutely aware of the effect he had on Yennevyr. It was almost amusing, the sudden change in her posture, her back snapping straight the moment he stepped into the room. Her deference towards him, the soft words and lowered eyes. Was she eager to please, or eager to survive?

From her quick feet and mind, he thought it was the latter. Self-preservation was a necessary trait among the cutthroat Sith, but for his apprentices - his legacy - he wanted more. He thought with her keen eyes and her outsider’s perspective, she’d be able to see the Empire for what it was. To see beyond the rabble, beyond the rat’s race and see what truly mattered. Instead, her eyes were puffy and pink, the next morning they met during saber practice.

Pathetic.

And it wasn’t a one off occasion too. Every time she’d come back from a particularly grueling mission, her mind was elsewhere, her blows lacking the conviction he’d expect from an acolyte worthy of being called his apprentice.

Drawing his attention back to the current practice, he swung a saber at her, the saber deflected mid-swing by a well-placed parry. He stepped aside, and noted how her feet were firmly planted into the ground, readying the body to absorb the weight of a heavy thrust or jab. A defensive stance- again. Must he truly hurt her for her to finally switch to the offense?

The tip of her saber was shaking, her stamina running low.

With the ease of swatting a fly, Darth Kharopos knocked the saber out of her hands. Scowling, he walked away, not pausing to glance back..

*******

Something was different. Clearly, something had changed.

Yet, it was less of a change or a growth and more of a pot bubbling over, the pressure and the heat exploding, the fragile cage of a badly crafted glass teapot cracking, its jagged shards flying into the wall before smashing into sharp little pieces.

Something flared in her eyes and her single red blade came to life, slashing in his direction.

He stepped right and striked left. She jumped back, moving like a spooked jungle-cat, before bouncing back forward with an unexpected speed and thrusted her saber towards his form. He blocked her, catching her blade with the end of his own. Her stance buckled under his strength, and so she slid her saber away but not before suddenly twisting her grips - shifting form, right in the heat of combat, inches away from her enemy - and plunging the blade into where he stood. Darth Kharopos spun his double-bladed saber, creating a quick shield that deflected away Yennevyr’s weapon.

The weapon flew out of her hand.

He felt her clearly. Frustration. Loathing. Wrath.

Their force bond was never this strong, but now he could feel her closer than ever. The way her heart raced, the blood thumping in her ears, her ragged breath and barely held back sobs- it was a dam broken loose, her force presence like a whirlpool throwing the cold serenity of his mind into chaos. Decades of careful restraint and calculating control kept him from drowning in the waves of her emotions.

Yennevyr, with her lithe form and dancer physique, sent a butterfly kick towards his head. Darth Kharopos reeled back. He could’ve blocked her again, that he was more than capable of- but his senses were screaming, alarm bells ringing.

With that distraction - that uncharacteristic distraction, that daring, was so different from the cautious acrobat who used to dance in and out of his range - she summoned her saber back, the hilt smacking into her palm with a loud slap. Fluid like water, she leaped and swung the saber like a guillotine axe above his head. Eyes wide, Darth Kharopos raised his saber up to form a cover, digging his feet into the sand below as the impact hit him. Yennevyr was not relenting.

Her eyes were scarlet. Those amber orbs now glowed red, the color looking like freshly spilt blood against her snow-pale skin. It reminded him of the first time he saw a total lunar eclipse: the moon bled red, as if someone had stabbed its white soil and the wound began gushing glistening ruby.

He let her hit him.

*******

Despair was an emotion Darth Kharopos never experienced, not truly and certainly not personally. Whether that was an indication of mental strength or privilege, he didn’t know.

Lord Atala’s death hit them all hard; the empty space where his mother once stood still felt like a void. Darth Kratais second marriage with Darth Labrys could never fill that gnawing, missing hole, but the woman’s hands were tender and her gaze was warm and when she whispered words of comfort to him, it felt like he had a mother again. Her presence had gentled his father’s severe disposition, and when she brought about his half-sister - Tatyan - into the world, the younger Sith Pureblood felt like a tiny bird fluttering in his palms. She truly was worth protecting.

When his father passed, it felt like a bad dream had come again.

Except this time, mother was grieving and Tatyan was bawling and they all cried together.

“Never show weakness in front of outsiders”, Darth Labrys said. “But here, we’re family.”

Because of family, he’d never known despair.

He was used to inflicting it upon others, though.

Hearing prisoners beg for death, attempting to gouge their eyes out as if the act could wipe away the vision of seeing their loved ones writhing as lightning tore through them, was something he’d grown accustomed to. He saw it coming like a holofilm in slow-motion: the moment where a war veteran’s mind was about to break, their will and determination ready to be shattered into dust at just a single jab. He always made sure their descent into madness was quick- no need to prolong the suffering. Genuine torture was only reserved for the worst of his enemies. It was satisfying, forcing some arrogant Republic general to their knees and making them scream, or exposing some tough Jedi for the weakling they were, like ripping open a bandage to reveal the ugly pus beneath.

How then, had he become so numb to the agony of others, that he missed seeing the same signs in his apprentice?

She was in despair, so upset she wished she’d died.

The circular burns on her arms looked like the ones he was used to inflicting upon Republic foes. It was an easy interrogation technique: stamping a recently deactivated lightsaber onto bare skin, the still-hot metal like a sizzling brand. And when he gazed into her eyes (oh sweet Yennevyr, when was the last time he truly looked at her?), they were dead. Empty glass orbs that had given up on life, if only her heart would just stop beating and give up on her too.

“Do I disappoint you, my lord?”

There was no mockery, no snippy retort in her voice, only pain.

*******

“I’ve always wondered how the law would work out in the long run,” Darth Labrys said, her voice lilting through the holocall. She was referring to the law to bolster Imperial ranks with worthy slaves and aliens, the law which also applied to the Sith. “You can’t expect a slave or a foreigner with no background, no exposure to Sith culture or history to integrate smoothly into Sith society without intervention, much less demand top performances from them.”

Not to mention the consequence of overwhelming power suddenly awakening within someone never taught to wield it, Darth Kharopos thought. The dark side was intoxicating, and one could lose themselves to everything from bloodlust to misery.

“I’m not advising you to go easy on her… but do be understanding, Tyrkos.”

His mother warned that even with the best medicine or therapy available, it would take time, and heavens knew that the Sith journey was already difficult enough, requiring one to fall apart and be reborn from the ashes, to kill who you were for what you could become.

Trust between Sith, especially master and apprentices, was rare. Now, he doubted she’d ever place her faith in him beyond hoping to one day take his place.

*******

Is this how I die? Darth Kharopos thought.

Every breath felt like hot knives stabbing his lungs. The rebreather was dying on him, for he could taste soot in his mouth. Collapsed against the cool floor of his hideout, back leaning against a bloodied wall, his apprentice loomed over him. How embarrassing, for his apprentice to see him so helpless.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she cried out. “Master!”

He thought he’d take that secret to the grave, to ensure that the fallout was minimal. Sith Pureblood, heir to the Rosokor family, involved in a light-side conspiracy. Should he be exposed, the Dark Council would have his mother’s and sister’s heads.

He pleaded for her to understand.

And if she didn’t, he wouldn’t blame her.

Her left hand clutched his holocommunicator where the damning evidence of his treachery laid, and in her right hand was the scarlet lightsaber, poised for execution. In the months under his tutelage, she’d grown into a stunningly beautiful Sith assassin indeed.

He closed his eyes.

“Tell me how to help.”

In shock, his eyes snapped open.

Her eyebrows were scrunched up but whether in anxiety or concern, he could not tell. There was a flush in her cheeks, and wildness in her eyes. Against his every expectation, Yennevyr chose mercy. She chose a chance at the Light. She chose him.

Master, did you not choose me, on Korriban? You saw something in me. I see something in you, too.

*******

Yennevyr hated mopping up blood. She had watched her late father’s maids do it all the time, his underlings scrubbing a crime scene clean. She later played the role of the domestic servant, doing the same back when she was enslaved under the Hutts, whether it be with spilled drinks or bloodstains from a brawl. She wasn’t afraid of blood- the coppery stench just smelled revolting.

Her master bled liters, the liquid forming sticky pools beneath his broken body. Sealing the wound wasn’t too difficult once she found the medkit, although her clumsy handiwork would definitely leave a scar. What was even more concerning was her master’s breathing, the fact that it sounded agonizingly labored and worryingly irregular.

With effort, they managed to haul their way to the hideout’s medical wing before he slipped into unconsciousness.

When his armor was stripped away and it was only his form in plain robes on the simple bed, her master looked more exhausted than she’d ever seen him. Heavy fatigue was written all over his sleeping face. It reminded her of those times she woke up especially early to see the Kaasian sunrise, the soft orange peaking through grey, stormy clouds. Some days, she deduced how master had been running some secret errands the night before, and she’d spot him limping home, his feet dragging, with an uncharacteristic slouch burdening his usually proud posture. Logically, she knew her master was no more or less a person than her, but to glimpse him tired and worn out had shocked her.

She spent the night by his side, the implications of her actions becoming clearer with each passing moment.

To reform the Sith society from inside out, she thought. A lofty dream. When did I become such a cynic?

With curious eyes, she glanced at her master’s resting form, the sound of his still ragged breathing filling the room. She wouldn’t even need a lightsaber; all she had to do was wrap her hands around his neck, and squeeze. She wondered if suffocation felt like sleep.

Oh, will I ever see you this vulnerable again?

Instead, she gingerly placed a palm on top of his limp hand, entangling her fingers with his. His hand was warm.

*******

After the suspicious death of Darth Jadus, Darth Zhorrid - in her sick ways - sought to consolidate her position as a Dark Lord of the Sith.

As if the Council would stand her, Yen scoffed. After they’ve sucked her dry of whatever knowledge Jadus may have passed down to his daughter, she’s dead.

It was no secret that her master disagreed with many of the actions taken by Darth Jadus, but he’d always respected the chain of command, bowing whenever the Dark Councillor requested his presence, amicable before his superiors. This time, however, Darth Zhorrid asked for her master and would not expect anything less than absolute submission.

“Wait outside, Yennevyr. Do not interfere no matter what happens.”

Many may claim force cloaking to be an act of defense, like the Jedi Shadows who’d rather sneak past their foes than needlessly spill blood. Perhaps she truly was like that, in the past. Eager to run, to dart in and out unseen. Conflict-avoidant.

But a cloak was also a tool, like a viper’s green scales that blended into the grass, obscuring fangs and venom. To take it a step further: force cloaking was manipulation. It was to force upon someone a false visage, to bend the mind of onlookers to the point of them rejecting the evidence of their own eyes, denying the existence of a sword pointed at their head. On Korriban, Yen had figured out how to twist her force cloak, inverting it so that her opponents’ visions were plunged into darkness and the world became invisible to them.

It only took hearing her master scream for the first time for her cloak to become a dress.

The scent of ozone reeked through the semi-closed office door. By god, no matter how many times in the past she’d angrily fumed - fantasizing of sweet it would be to give her master a taste of his own medicine - actually hearing her master who had just barely recovered from his previous ordeal now screaming under the powers of some bratty Darth who probably did not even deserve that title...

Yen’s hands curled into a fist, and she was surprised by the anxious lump that formed in her throat. She took in a sharp inhale and when she breathed out, the Force coiled around her like serpentine tendrils, slick and cool. Shadows rested around her shoulder blades like a fashionista’s scarf.

Or for her enemies, a noose.

When her master stumbled out of Darth Zhorrid’s office, a hand clutching at his side, she took the opportunity to peer into the slit of the half-opened office door and caught the Dark Councillor’s sadistic gaze. Yen gave a smile.

*******

Yen had always been good at force cloaking. But this time, instead of projecting the lie of invisibility, she’d chosen an illusion- a glamour, a mirage. To project something false into the world required unwavering will and mastery over that image.

Her mask was fueled by hatred.

Never had she thought she’d one day hate anyone more that she hated the Hutts or herself, until she met Darth Zhorrid. That pathetic mix of insecurity and sadism was infuriating. She had read up on Darth Jadus’ treatment of his daughter. It took everything for her not to barge into that office and wring that sick woman by the neck and ask her if she thought she was the only one who had ever faced abuse. Everyone faced pain at some point in their life. Suffering was the story of all beings, especially so if you were Sith. Yet, when she hated herself, Yen only hurt herself. Unlike Zhorrid, she’d never tortured others as a way to lessen her own pain, to hide her weakness.

And for that, Yen wished Zhorrid was dead.

But not before providing use for her and her master, of course.

Wearing the Force - the fabric of the universe - as if it was a garment, was an act of complete domination. With a smile, she had sparked a flame of interest within Zhorrid. With a light touch of her fingers, she’d quicken or calm the Dark Lord’s pulse, the woman’s heartbeat hers to command at her pleasure. In a blink of an eye, Zhorrid would forgive her master for any misdeeds he’d supposedly done, and most importantly, Zhorrid would leave him alone.

Why pay attention to some grumpy old Sith when the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen was standing there in front of her eyes?

A drugged cupcake ready to be eaten.

Darth Kharopos felt his stomach sinking when he received the holocall requesting that Yennevyr go meet Darth Zhorrid in her chambers. His muscles tightened, as if readying for battle. He wasn’t scared of that snooty brat; anything she threw his way he could take. But Yen, his student, his ward, his protege, his apprentice-

She was smiling.

The Force swirled around her, draped all over her form like a dress blowing in the wind. It was as if she wore a robe of woven flesh, of slithering serpents and tendrils that wrap and cling and coil. There was a gleam in Yen’s eyes, her russet eyes mirthful, radiating confidence. The last time he remembered seeing his apprentice so self-assured was when he was bleeding on the cool tiled floors, her red lightsaber hanging over his head like a bloody guillotine.

“My lord, I am every bit your apprentice. Trust that you’ve taught me well.”

When Darth Kharopos was later summoned to Darth Zhorrid’s office, Yennevyr sat on Zhorrid’s lap like an overpriced poodle. What Zhorrid did not see was the undulating threads latching onto her, their ends sinking into Zhorrid’s skin like a snake’s fangs, or parasites whose teeth pierced her bloodstream, draining her dry.

“Ah, you’re here, Darth Kharopos,” Zhorrid said with a grin. “Very good, you look very nice indeed, perfect for the job.”

Darth Kharopos only nodded, his eyes glued to Zhorrid’s pale hand which stroked Yen’s hair as if she was some exotic pet.

“I need you to look into two places: Belsavis, and the Arcanum.”

Belsavis was a tightly guarded secret he was privy to knowing, but his heart skipped a beat when he heard the name ‘Arcanum’. The Emperor’s property. Jedis have died to get a glimpse of the space station, and there were words of a rogue Dread Master recently robbing the place. Was it even under Intelligence’s jurisdiction?

A squeal snapped him from his thoughts.

“So you do know about the Arcanum!”

Her voice went from a slimy purr to an abrupt shriek. He felt a hard shove and invisible cold fists pinning him to the wall. His legs hung in the air, and he glared at that wretched woman.

“My lord,” Yennevyr murmured, her doe-like eyes widening at Darth Zhorrid. “My master’s a Darth of Imperial Intelligence. Is it not his role to know all that is going on?”

The pressure released and soon he was free. Zhorrid made a noise of agreement, muttering ‘Yes, yes… you’re right, of course.”

Zhorrid began ranting, a semi-coherent monologue punctuated with giggles and sudden screeches on the unfairness of her fate and the need to prove her worth to the Dark Council. Before her anger boiled over, a force tendril planted soft kisses on Zhorrid’s lips, quieting the woman’s anxiety in one swift move.

When the Dark Councillor appeared distracted, Darth Kharopos broke eye contact and glanced at his apprentice. He suppressed a shudder, seeing the predatory glint in Yennevyr’s eyes. Everyday, they grew more scarlet.

You will drink my words, or I will pour them down your throat.

*******

Belsavis he took care of alone, but as per Darth Zhorrid’s orders, he allowed Yennevyr to accompany him on the mission to the Arcanum. It was perfect: with every eye glued to the young rising-star commander, a Sith not-yet-a-lord with the bewitching presence of a black hole, nobody noticed him slipping away, leaking whatever information he could find on the Emperor to Republic SIS. His heart thundered the whole way, but every time he looked at Yennevyr - black hair tied up in a bun, a saber and light armor ready for combat - he felt like he could breathe easy again.

The mission was a success. They tracked the thief, Lord Tagriss, down to Ilum. His dualsaber stabbed a hole in the Sith Lord’s chest, and he felt his apprentice’s pride flared through their bond the moment Lord Tagriss’ dead husk fell into the snow.

When they returned home, she was ready to be a Lord.

“From this day onwards, you are known as Lord Soteira,” he declared, his apprentice kneeling before him. “It means savior.”

His apprentice stood up. When she looked at him, something swirled in his chest.

You honed my blade and sharpened my edges until they are lethal. You scrubbed away the rust, and revealed the blood-soaked truth. Master, don’t feel guilty thinking you turned me into something I already wasn’t. I’ll try to reach for the Light as you want me to, my lord, but don’t pity me if I fail.