#so naturally. my dad leaves (the only person i could ask to drop packages off at the post office) and only then do i see that dumbass email

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

my luck is so bad it is legitimately just cruel. every day literally feels like i am being punished for every little decision i make. it’s almost hard to believe and yet somehow i’m too dumb to anticipate this…?

[beyscape]

Secrets

Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: “Ransom Drysdale is the father of a child but he doesn’t know it” requested by @evansrogersmarvelcomic​

Word Count: 2010

Warnings: a swear word or two

A/N: No spoilers from the movie! The daughter’s name is Mary, just a lil’ reference to Gifted :’) Also, this has been one of my favourite prompts for a veeery long time, so thanks a lot for the request!

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

  Ransom Drysdale was a selfish asshole. Everyone who had spent as little as five minutes around him could easily see this. His history with women, the way he felt a trail made of broken hearts and tears wherever he passed through and how he only cared about his own interests were all facts well known to you. Yet still, he wasn’t all bad, you had told your friends when they tried to stop you from a mistake. A mistake, they had called it, going out with Ransom never ended well. You assured them you would be fine, just having some fun with a hot, charismatic guy.

  It was strange, how the conversation with your friends when you told them you were dating Ransom kept playing in your head as you sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. The handle of the cabinet dug into your back uncomfortably, but you barely noticed the pain.

Deep down, you had always known that it wouldn’t last. So, the year and a half you spent with Ransom was a surprise to you, as well as those around you. It was an endless repeat of a cycle, dating Ransom. It would start exhilarating, from the breathtaking dates and the way he made you feel, like the only woman on earth. Next phase would be you inevitably being mad him, the fights were passionate and tiring. He was unable to admit that he was wrong, that he was being a complete jerk and paired with your stubborn nature it would take days to end the screaming match. Then would come the angry make up sex, whatever you were fighting about melting away. This cycle repeated for a little less than a year and a half, until you couldn’t take it anymore and broke things up for good.

 That was a month ago.

 Even though it was your decision to end things and knew that it was the best thing to do for the long run, you couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken over the whole thing. Yes, you had known who Ransom was, but that didn’t change the fact that you still secretly hoped things would work out. That he would change. Just as a month passed and you started to feel better, to see clearly why you had to make that decision, it all came crashing down.

  Positive.

  You stared at the small stick between your shaking, cold hands. It was only supposed to soothe your worries as there was no way you were pregnant, just being paranoid, you had comforted yourself at the pharmacy. You were, however, very wrong, you realized with a startling halt as you turned over the three other sticks. All showed the result you dreaded.

  Positive.

  You dropped the stick next to the other ones on the floor, pulling your knees up to rest your head on them. You weren’t ready for this, a child was a huge responsibility, and the father wasn’t even in the picture- you cursed. Not only were you pregnant, you were pregnant with the baby of the one person who was absolutely not supposed to be more than some causal fun. After some hours of sitting in the same position, thinking through every possible outcome, you rose on your feet with determination.

  Many seasons passed since then, and in a blur you were the proud mother of a baby girl who now sat in front of you, playing with blocks of Lego. You watched as the five-year-old grabbed piece after piece to build a rocket, her mop of blonde hair too familiar. One last cruel joke from the man you tried so hard to forget, his daughter looked like a carbon copy of his, so you had to see the little face every day that reminded you of him. Never allowing you to completely forget the time you had spent together all those years ago now.

 You had moved out of the small apartment to a slightly bigger one, needing more space for all the things a baby brings into one’s life. You were still in the same area though, and a part of you was surprised at how well you kept your little secret. Some of your friends expressed their worries about your location, but after some thought you decided it would be too expensive to move over states. And after all, best hiding spots were always in plain sight anyways.

Those close to you knew who your daughter’s father was, but all of them made sure to never utter a word about it. Ransom Drysdale wasn’t really cut out for being a dad, it was just a simple fact. You knew too, and that was exactly why you had decided to keep him in the dark. Nonetheless, there was a part of you who wished one day, long into the future, he would get to meet his daughter.

You didn’t know how soon your wish would come true.

 It was a warm Sunday morning when you noticed you were out of milk and a trip to the grocery store was much needed. Your daughter, Mary, was thrilled at the idea and spent extra time making sure her dress had just the right amount of sparkles on it.

Maybe you had gotten too comfortable over the years, but you no longer felt the fear of running into Ransom every single time you left your house. But, you didn’t exactly hang out in the same circles even before you started dating him and become a mom. And there was also the fact that he most likely would be too busy to visit your local grocery store, instead he would be sleeping in after a night of drinking and maybe even bringing someone back to the whatever hotel he favoured at the moment. You pressed your lips together at that last thought. You had heard of him dating casually, seen pictures of him with different girls at different clubs, it was hard not to hear of Ransom Drysdale even when you did your best to avoid him. You shushed the part of you that was bothered with how fast he had gotten over you.

 “Don’t wander off.” You warned your excited daughter as you rolled the cart around. She gave you a smile, not straying from your side, watching you make progress with the list in your hands. As expected from a five-year-old though, she soon got bored.

 “Mommy,” Mary whined, tugging your hand, “Can I go and get cookies?” you noted the empty isle and the general quietness of the store before giving her a nod. You watched for another second as your daughter moved to the aisle across from you, skipping with the thought of cookies. You returned back to the long list.

–

  Ransom Drysdale took off his sunglasses as he entered the small store, wanting to grab something to snack on before he continued the drive for his grandfather’s house. He grimaced, not looking forward to seeing his family of hot messes, the hangover headache he was nursing not helping the matter at all. He sighed softly, making his way to find some cookies or something, to give him the energy he would need very much so in the coming hours.

  There he noticed a small blonde girl, trying to climb on the lower shelves with one hand reaching up, her tongue was out as she concentrated on her prize. Ransom snorted slightly before grabbing two packages of the chocolate chip cookies the small girl was so focused on getting. She looked up at him, Ransom stopped for a second as two very familiar eyes stared at him. He shook his head, many people had blue eyes.

“You’re gonna fall if you climb shelves.” He stretched out one of the packages. The girl just looked up at him, clearly hesitant. “Take it.” Ransom nodded.

“My mommy says not to talk to strangers, or get candy from them.” She retorted, still eyeing the cookies.

 “Your mommy sounds smart. So, should I put these back, or?” His lips curled a little at the corners as the girl grabbed them out of his hand. She muttered a thank you before running off. Ransom watched as she ran to the woman at the end of the other aisle, he had just turned around to leave when his head snapped back in recognition.

You were just about to cross of the last item when Mary came running with her favourite cookies clutched safely in her arms.

 “Mommy, I couldn’t reach so the nice man helped me.” She said, pointing before placing her precious cookies carefully in the cart. You raised your stare from your daughter’s figure to the man to thank him, and your eyes met with the one person you had been avoiding for the last six years. The can you were just about to place in the cart fell out of your hand, rolling away, sending Mary to catch it.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, your heart thumping in your chest loudly. Your eyes drifted to Mary who was so unaware of her mother’s panic, and then back to Ransom, standing only a few feet away. He eyed Mary too, the initial surprise in his eyes leaving its place for a stormy look.

 “So how old is she?” He asked, finally looking at you with squinted eyes as he put two and two together.

 “Ransom.” You breathed out and took a step towards him.

 “Answer me, Y/N.”

 “She’ll be six in a couple of months.” You gripped the metal cart, steadying yourself as you didn’t trust your feet.

  “Why the-” he exhaled sharply, his eyes drifting between you and Mary who know looked at him with big eyes that were too damn familiar, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Mommy?” Mary turned to you; her little face twisted with confusion.

“Ransom, please, not now. I,” you sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this one, “I promise I’ll tell you everything. But not now. Give me your phone, I’ll text you.” You babbled, words slipping out of your mouth as your hands shook ever so slightly, you held one out towards him.

“I have your number, if you didn’t change it.” He mumbled, crouching, his eyes never left Mary. You stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, you would think a man like Ransom would delete your number the second you slammed the door as you left, never to return again.

“What’s your name?” Mary’s eyes turned to you, searching your face. Upon seeing your small nod, she took a step towards the man.

“Mary.”

 “Nice to meet you, Mary.”

 You watched the whole thing unfold in front of you, your mouth slightly open. You had imagined this moment for so many times, over and over, yet the gentle expression on Ransom’s face was so… Foreign. Unexpected.

 “Come on, honey.” You scooped Mary up in your arms, unable to watch any more. Your gaze turned to Ransom. “I’ll text you.” You turned, feeling all sorts of emotions dance in your chest as you pushed the cart away with Mary, who turned her head back to where the man was still standing.

 Ransom stood there, watching the woman he had once loved, walk away with his daughter. His daughter. Family dinner would have to wait, as Ransom found it hard to walk away. He was still standing there, watching you place Mary into her car seat, when he felt something new in his heart. He gulped.

 Ransom Drysdale was a selfish asshole, but in that moment, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his daughter.

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

My GOD I suck at titles. Might write a part 2 if anyone’s interested! Also, my inbox is open for requests!

[homeformyheart]

Hi I already love Nora with my entire heart and am requesting from dialogue prompts:

#19 “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

- ❤️ PD

from these dialogue prompts (always accepting)

ahhh thank you PD for indulging me <3

author’s note: thank you so much @wayhavenots for requesting this and for indulging my Nick x Nora headcanons. More of the backstory and context will be written up in a separate fic, so this fic takes place about six months of these two agreeing to give each other a real chance. I hope you all enjoy! *fyi, Nora is Nick’s LI in all of my MB universes, and Nick’s features will vary based on that, so feel free to self-insert or use one of my Nicks’ below :)

copyright: all characters, except the oc and oc button, are owned by jo o’connor @mindblindbard. series/pairing: mind blind – nick wiseman x f!oc (nora mcconnell) rating/warnings: 14+; swearing, minor angst, fluff based on/prompt: dialogue prompts // 19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.” (in bold) word count: 1.7k summary: six months into their relationship, nora freaks out when she finds out nick is falling in love with her.

permission

nick’s hand brushed nora’s as they walked side-by-side toward his house. he held his fingers near hers and looked at her imploringly, making sure that she knew he was giving her permission while giving her the space to set boundaries.

nora smiled and closed the gap between their hands, intertwining her fingers with his and inching closer. the instant their hands were flush, a simmering warmth bloomed from their joined fingers up her arm and passed through her chest.

happiness. joy. peace.

even below the surface.

she was getting better at recognizing and reading the emotions of others without skin contact. eight months working for unity gave her the opportunity to hone her skills and she could read surface-level emotions from up to two feet away and read deeper, repressed emotions with prolonged touching. she was reluctant at first, but rosy and adsila had demanded insisted that she be trained properly lest it distract her on the job.

throwing open the floodgates to all the emotions around her had been excruciatingly overwhelming. nick had ended up being a supportive presence throughout it all, helping her learn how to narrow her focus and practice differentiating between her emotions and his. they set boundaries, but he offered to be a lifeboat whenever she felt like she was drowning.

it still took her a long time to be convinced that he wanted something serious with her – that his playboy days were over.

he yanked her gently out of her reverie by pulling her close, his other hand coming up to her waist to hold her against him.

“what are you doing?” she asked, a laugh escaping her as she brought a hand to his chest and looked up at him.

“i’m just happy,” he said, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. “permission to kiss you?”

she nodded and nick leaned in to capture her lips with his.

nora didn’t think she’d ever get tired of the way nick kissed. each time was unique – sometimes soft and featherlight that made her want to chase, and other times so deep and consuming that she wanted to drown.

and these were perfectly in-between. his soft lips pressed lightly against hers in rapid succession, the pressure deepening incrementally once she matched his tempo in return. she started to smile into the kiss as she felt his hand tighten at her waist.

after a few moments, nick pulled back slightly to rest his forehead against hers. she could feel his emotions pulsing under her hands, a warm leggero of affection, happiness, and lo—no. not that.

anything but that.

panic started rising in her throat and she clenched her fingers where they rested on his chest, scrunching the fabric of his shirt. she needed to stop him from saying it anytime soon. it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but she had gotten comfortable with the idea that he’d never fall in love with her.

love came in a package deal with hurt and she refused to subscribe.

she didn’t need her powers to recognize that she was starting to spiral inwardly. but then she noticed that nick hadn’t moved or said anything.

maybe she was in the clear. she started to let out the breath she was holding, relief beginning to settle into her lungs.

“i think i’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me,” nick said quietly.

her body froze, the breath in her lungs trapping the relief that had started to seep in before, holding it hostage against her ribcage. she didn’t know how to process what he just said so she pulled her head back to look at him.

nora blinked rapidly to keep the tears in her eyes at bay. “i can’t—i mean, we can’t—”

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” nick murmured, trying to pull her back into his arms. “i’m not expecting you to say you feel the same.”

she took a deep breath and forced herself to look up at him, pushing his arms away from her. the goosebumps on her arms punctuated how much she already missed his warmth. his eyes swirled with hurt, and she could feel his confusion.

“no, you don’t understand, nick. you can’t fall in love with me. i’m not—” she bit her lip. “i’m not someone who can love you the way you deserve. i’m sorry.”

nora turned and walked away as briskly as she could, wiping away the stray tears that slipped down her face. she headed toward the nearest metro station, digging around in her purse for her card. her fingers brushed against the off-brand kirby trinket hanging off her keychain and she pulled it out to look at it.

the features on the trinket did not look anything like the famous video game character. its eyes were too far apart, and its smile was definitely creepy. but nick found it hilarious and insisted on pretending it was kirby, attaching it to her keychain and checking for weeks afterward to make sure she kept it.

it was from one of their first dates and possibly, her favorite – he absolutely surprised her by not taking her to some fancy restaurant. and when she tried to call him out for the lack of originality in a navy pier date (since anyone who’s grown up in and lived in chicago for some time has been to navy pier at least a half dozen times), he simply responded that he wanted to show her more of who he was outside of being a ment and ucrt’s leader.

it was the most fun she’d had in a long time – and seeing nick genuinely enjoy himself brought out a side to her that she had long forgotten about. the side of her that wanted to let loose and be child-like for once. it helped that his ment abilities were useless against rigged carnival games – the great equalizer, she had teased him at the time as he tried (and failed) to win her a big prize.

off-brand kirby was the consolation prize and a perfect reminder of that night.

nick made her want to bring down her carefully and rigidly designed walls that she clung to after her dad abandoned her family. she had grown too comfortable behind the walls – they protected her time and again from getting hurt. after all, if she didn’t let anyone in, then they couldn’t leave her behind.

but she didn’t consider the fact that nick willingly let her in, and she may have just done more damage to him than he deserved by leaving things the way she did.

she clutched the keychain in her hand and walked right back to his house. she knew that he’d see her coming, but she still hoped that he’d answer the door. she steeled her nerves and knocked with three, quick raps on the door, nearly tapping nick’s chest as the door swung open after her third knock.

“what do you want?” nora cringed at the harsh tone of nick’s voice.

“you don’t have to forgive me. but you deserve an explanation,” she replied, fiddling with the keychain.

nick just stared at her for what felt like minutes, eyes darting to the keychain in her hands and back up to her face. nora wondered if she should just walk away. maybe it was too late to explain. after a few awkward moments, he turned and walked back toward the living room, leaving the door open.

nora took a deep breath and followed him, closing the door behind her and joining him on the opposite end of the couch.

“please know that the way i reacted didn’t have anything to do with you. i have a lot of baggage and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t scare you. someone who is worth it in the end.”

“you don’t scare me, nora,” nick said quietly.

“but you said being in love with me scares you?”

“i’ve never been in love before. and i’m scared you’ll decide one day you need someone more mature or interesting or—” he took a deep breath. “i’m just so goddamn happy with you that i don’t want to lose that.”

the distance between them felt stifling. nora couldn’t read him beyond surface-level from this distance but it didn’t matter, the hurt and longing in his eyes said everything. she wanted to reach out to him so badly that her chest ached. but his arms remained folded over his chest, a visible signal that she needed to stay where she was.

he wasn’t giving her permission to come closer.

tears welled in nora’s eyes. “i’m terrified of losing you, nick. you run headfirst into dangerous situations and have this—this self-sacrificing nature that might get you killed one day. and then you’d be another person who’s left me behind.”

her voice dropped to a whisper as she stood up to leave. “i can’t go through that again. i’m sorry.”

nick finally looked up and made eye contact with her as he stood from the couch. “i won’t leave you and i’ll be more careful, i promise. i don’t want to lose you.”

he held out his arms toward her, eyes vulnerable and open. “permission to fall in love with you, nori?”

she almost chuckled at the nickname, reminiscent of a date night where they dissolved into giggles while attempting to make sushi. her heart leapt toward him before her body could react, but she followed the instinct and moved into his arms. she nodded against his forehead resting on hers, his arms wrapping around her lower back.

“only if you give me permission too, nicky,” she said softly, daring herself to look into his eyes.

she can tell he’s trying hard to be serious and not break out into an ear-to-ear grin, but a smile escaped him anyway. “yes, please.”

from these dialogue prompts (always accepting)

* * * * * taglist: @pearlsandsteel; @anotherbeingsworld; @sosolenoo; @mevnraels; @wayhavenots; (if you don’t want to be tagged for nick x oc, let me know!)

[jeongyunhoed]

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Ateez, but make them Old Hollywood, basically. Lights, camera, action!

Member: Yunho

Genre: Murder mystery, a little bit of comedy, a little bit of romance and fluff

Warnings: Murder (as it is a murder mystery), mentions of it including suicide, death, blackmail, alcohol drinking

Things to note: Set in the 1930s, established marriage

Will have OCs

As with the rest of the stories in the AU, there will be other idols mentioned, most likely NCT but may have some of my other faves (EXO, etc.)

A/N: The third story of this whole series is Yunho’s! Just like Jongho’s it’s a murder mystery, but it’s also based on my most favorite classic film. I’ll make a separate post for that once I’m halfway done. But I hope you all enjoy this too.  

Masterlist

Former private detective-turned-society man Jeong Yunho is brought back to sleuthing when an inventor goes missing and his mistress is murdered. With a little help from his wife, and from a martini or two.

The Thin Man

tag list: @minervaaaaaaaa , @closer-stars

Part 1

Christmas eve. 

Crowds of people filled the fashionable Charles cafe, dancing to their hearts’ content or watching everyone else dance while a band played a mix of Christmas carols and old favorites at the nearest stage. A line of waiters were standing at the bar, watching a tall, suited man by the name of Jeong Yunho shake a martini shaker rhythmically. “It’s all in how much you shake this, a martini you always shake to the waltz,” He said, pouring out the contents into a small cocktail glass. 

He stopped when he saw a woman approach him. “Excuse me, aren’t you Mr. Jeong Yunho?” She asked. 

Yunho drank everything in one shot. “Yes, I’m Jeong Yunho, who’s asking?” He smiled. 

“You probably don’t remember me,” She said in almost a teasing manner. “I’m Park Sungyoung. Park Junho’s daughter.” 

His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, the scrawny little…My goodness you’ve grown. That or I’ve gotten old since the last time we met.” 

“Yes,” She chuckled, but her expression immediately changed into that of concern. 

“How did you even remember me?” Yunho raised a brow, gesturing for the bartender to hand him what seemed like his fifth martini of the night. He barely felt a thing, and he figured he must’ve gotten immune since the prohibition was lifted. 

“Well, I was fascinated by you, you were a real detective and you used to tell me really wonderful stories. Were they really true?” She asked. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Yunho shrugged before taking another swig of his martini. 

A man immediately walked up to Sungyoung. He was also looking worried. “Yunho, I’d like to introduce my fiance, Park Seonghwa. Seonghwa, this is Jeong Yunho. He worked on a case for my father.” 

“How do you do?” Yunho shook his hand. “Oh yes. Your father was having trouble with one of his inventions a few years ago. Some nut wanted to kill him. How is he?” 

“That’s what I came to you for when I saw you earlier. He’s disappeared,” Sungyoung held on to her fiance’s arm. Yunho looked a little surprised. 

“Now don’t say that, Sungyoung,” Seonghwa shook his head at her. “He’s probably just somewhere working,” He glanced at Yunho as well in an effort to assure her. 

“Well I can’t find him, I’ve tried everything. He promised he’d be there for us on our wedding in six days and I thought you might know something, Mr. Jeong,” She said. 

“Unfortunately I’m not practicing anymore, Ms. Park. You see I’ve retired,” Yunho emptied his glass. “I don’t know anything either. I’ve been somewhere else for four years now. I personally wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. He’s an inventor, when he gets an idea he wants to work on, it’s only natural that he’d want to hide away somewhere, he’s done it before.” 

“Yes, but never for three months,” Sungyoung said. 

“What about his lawyer? What’s his name again? Quite young to be his personal attorney, Hong something.” 

“Kim Hongjoong,” Sungyoung replied and he nodded. “He’s the only one my father’s spoken to. Well, Hongjoong and Woo Jaekyung, she’s dad’s secretary.” 

“Jaekyung? Oh yeah, I think I met her before,” Yunho agreed. “His lawyer and his secretary both speak to him before he leaves, but no one knows where he went-” 

“He wouldn’t tell them.” 

“What about your mother? He wouldn’t tell her either?” 

“No,” She shook her head. “Well, mother and dad haven’t been seeing each other for a while now.” 

“Oh, oh, I see,” He nodded in understanding. “I’m not sure what else I can do for you. Why don’t you try Hongjoong again? Maybe he’s heard from your father and probably forgot to tell you.” 

“Here, some won,” Seonghwa handed her a few coins and with a hopeful expression, she walked off. “She’s got me worrying too.” 

“I really wouldn’t worry. Her father’s a great guy, but a little screwy, absent-minded if you will,” Yunho took another martini cocktail from the waiter. 

There was a commotion coming from the entrance hall. Sounds of chatter mixed with a white bichon frise barking that made Seonghwa and Yunho look over to see what was going on. “I’m not taking him, he’s taking me!” Yunho nodded, immediately knowing who it was. It was his wife, Choi Juhyun, stumbling onto the floor after she lost control of the leash belonging to their dog named Asta. The Christmas presents she had in her arms falling to the floor while several waiters helped her up. 

“Madame, you can’t bring that dog in here and you dropped your packages,” One of them, the doorman, spoke. 

“I didn’t bring him, he brought me,” Juhyun replied, fixing her hat that had gone askew. “Asta!” She commanded the dog, who immediately went to Yunho. “Oh, so it was you he was after!” 

“Hello, my darling” Yunho immediately wrapped an arm around her to kiss her on the cheek. 

“He’s dragged me to every gin joint on the block,” Juhyun looked down at the dog. Yunho looked amused, as did Seonghwa. 

“I had him out this morning.” 

“I thought so, he even tried to drag me into the gentlemen’s club.” 

“Oh yes, this is Park Seonghwa,” Yunho paused to introduce them and they nodded in greeting. 

“Pardon me Seonghwa, I don’t usually look like this, I’ve been Christmas shopping,” Juhyun took out a compact from her purse to check her hat. 

“It’s alright, gentlemen,” Yunho turned to the doorman and the head waiter. “That’s my dog, and,” He turned to her. “My wife.” 

Juhyun gave him a look. “You might have mentioned me first on the billing.” 

“He’s well-trained, don’t worry, he’ll behave himself,” Yunho assured them, looking down at the dog. “Sit, Asta, sit,” He commanded, but the dog stayed still. Seonghwa looked amused. “He’s alright, he only bites me.” 

“Yes, he’s fussy about what he eats,” Juhyun added. 

The attendants walked off, and she was still staring at her husband. “You see? You realize what an influential husband you have?” He beamed, almost looking tipsy. 

“You do have a certain standing with doormen,” Nora quipped, wrinkling her nose at him before putting her compact back in her purse. 

Yunho spotted Sungyoung return, immediately going up to her fiance. “Any luck?” Seonghwa asked. 

“Yes, he’s just around the corner,” Sungyoung replied. 

“Your father?” 

“No, no, Hongjoong. I’m going to see him.” 

“Oh right, my wife,” Yunho gestured to Juhyun. “This is Park Sungyoung. Seonghwa’s fiance.” 

They exchanged greetings. “How do you do? I’m sorry we have to rush, but you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Jeong?” Sungyoung said, and Juhyun nodded. 

“We’re at the Hammett for a few weeks, you’re free to drop by,” Yunho suggested. 

“Thanks, we will. Goodbye Mr. Jeong, Mrs. Jeong,” Sungyoung pulled Seonghwa away as they hurried out of the cafe. 

Juhyun turned to her husband and they sat down at the table in front of them. “Pretty girl,” She said. 

“If you like blondes.” 

“You got a type?” She grinned. 

“Only you, darling, brunettes with wicked jaws,” Yunho lightly pinched her cheek. 

“Who is she?” 

Yunho looked defeated. “Oh, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you. Sungyoung is really my daughter. You see, it was spring in Venice, and I was so young. We’re all like that on my father’s side.” 

Juhyun looked amused. “By the way, how is your father’s side?” 

“Oh it’s much better, thank you dear,” He reached for her hand. 

“So who really is she, Yuyu?” 

“Park Sungyoung, daughter of Park Junho. I used to work on a case for her father.” 

“Charming, what happened now?” Juhyun asked. 

“Junho has disappeared. Sungyoung’s afraid something might’ve happened to him.” 

“Has anything happened to him?” 

“My darling wife, how would I know? Funny, that secretary of his might know something,” Yunho replied. 

“Secretaries usually do. Who is she?” 

“Woo Jaekyung. Smart girl, Jaekyung. I always suspected she had some kind of hold on Junho. That’s why he kept her on.” 

“Maybe you should call her,” She suggested. 

“What for?” 

“Nothing, just to say hello. Do you need some money?” Juhyun was about to reach into her purse when he shook his head. “Well, while we’re here, how many martinis have you had?” She asked. 

“Before you came in, I had six martinis.” 

Juhyun waved the waiter over. “Could you bring me five more martinis? Line them up right here,” She said, and the waiter nodded before walking off. 

~ 

“Hello? Hello, yes, Woo Jaekyung speaking,” She said. “Who? Oh, hello, Mr. Jeong. What was it you wanted to- Oh no, he didn’t tell me, not a word. I’m sorry. That’s alright, goodbye,” and she hung up. 

Jaekyung looked around the living room and then towards her boyfriend, Choi Jongho, who was busy looking through a women’s lingerie catalog. “You women sure take a lot of punishment,” He said, putting the catalog down when he saw her expression. “Who was that?” 

“Jeong Yunho.” 

“The detective?” 

“He wanted to know where Junho was,” Jaekyung replied. 

Jongho looked slightly flustered. “Oh yeah? Why?” 

“He didn’t say.” 

“Did anyone see Junho come here that night? That night you and him had a fight?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Oh no? Well I guess I’ll take off,” Jongho stood up straight to head towards the coat rack. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, just going on a little stroll. If Jeong Yunho is going to pop up around here, I want to be far away when he does-” 

“Oh don’t be a fool, Jongho,” Jaekyung shot him a look. “...You need money, right?” 

“Sure, what about it? You got some?” 

“Plenty. I’m Junho’s secretary,” Jaekyung boasted. 

“Oh yeah? What do you mean by that?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

~ 

That afternoon, Yunho returned to the bedroom in their apartment, holding an ice bag for his wife, who was lying on one side of their shared bed. “What hit me?” She mumbled, Asta immediately jumping onto the space next to her. 

“The last martini,” He grinned, bending down to peck her lips and place the ice bag on her head. 

“What did- What did Woo Jaekyung have to say? You didn’t tell me when we went out,” She slowly sat up, the dog climbing onto her lap. 

“Nothing, she didn’t know where he was,” He drank his cocktail in one shot. 

“Oh, I can’t stay lying down, I’ve got to get up and trim that darned Christmas tree,” She leaned forward, one hand still on the ice bag. 

The doorbell rang and Yunho went out of the room to answer the door, Asta following close behind. To his surprise, Kim Hongjoong was standing right outside. “Hello, Mr. Jeong, how are you?” He greeted. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim, come in, come in,” Yunho stepped aside, making way for the smaller to go in, who didn’t bother removing his coat. 

“Sungyoung told me you were here, I was going to call you but-” 

“That’s alright. Want anything from the bar?” He gestured to the cocktail shaker close by. Hongjoong waved a hand dismissively as he sat down on the couch. 

“I wanted to see you so I took the liberty of coming here anyway. Yunho, what’s Hyomin up to?” Hongjoong asked directly. 

Yunho paused drinking as he tried to remember. “Oh, right, Sungyoung’s mother. Does she have to be up to something?” He asked. 

“She usually is, trying one way or another to get money out of Junho,” Hongjoong chuckled. “I wanted to know if you were doing some sleuthing for her.” 

“I haven’t been a detective for four years,” Yunho poured some more of the contents of the shaker into his glass. At Hongjoong’s intrigued expression, he drank his cocktail in one shot again. “My wife’s father died and left her a whole load of businesses, a narrow gauge railroad too, I’m looking after them at her request.” 

“I see.” 

“What’s all this fuss about? Is Junho in hiding?” 

“You know as much about it as I do. I haven’t seen him in three months,” Hongjoong shrugged. “He sends word through Jaekyung when he wants money. I give it to her, and she gives it to him.” 

The telephone rings but it stops after a moment. “So that’s still on, huh?” Yunho asked. “That’s probably for you.” 

Juhyun suddenly came in, and he bit his lip to stifle a laugh at the sight of her. She tied the ice bag around her head as she approached them. “Is there a Mr. Kim Hongjoong in the house?- Oh,” She stopped when she saw him already pick up the receiver. 

“My wife,” Yunho wrapped an arm around her, nearly tickling her waist in an attempt to tease. Juhyun giggled and nudged him in response as they watched Hongjoong talk on the phone, nodding at them in acknowledgment. Juhyun pulled away from him to go to the Christmas tree, looking through the ornaments she bought to hang on parts of the trees, keeping the tinsel out of reach from the dog, who followed her. 

Hongjoong hung up. “He’s back in town, Junho. Thank goodness, he’s waiting for me now,” He stood up. Forgive me, Mrs. Jeong,” He glanced over at Juhyun, who looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s no joke working for a man like that. I have to be off now. Goodbye Mr. Jeong, Mrs. Jeong.” 

“Goodbye!” Yunho waved at him as he saw himself out. 

“Oh, and Merry Christmas!” Hongjoong called out before closing the door. 

“The next person that says merry christmas to me, I’ll kill them,” She mumbled. “Asta!” She saw the dog sniffing around the foot of the tree. 

“I better call Sungyoung and tell her that everything’s alright,” Yunho sat down by the telephone. 

~ 

Yang Hyomin rushed inside the Horizon building that night, where she knew Jaekyung lived with her ex-husband whom she hadn’t heard from in a while, not that she often contacted him. Out of her son Sungmin’s insistence and against Sungyoung’s wishes, she bulked up the courage to face the woman her ex-husband was now seeing, knowing that she had the money. The settlement she had from the divorce had been long gone, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask her new husband, Jung Wooyoung, to provide the money as he was also determined to make his startup nightclub work. 

“Apartment 9-T. Miss Woo is expecting me,” She immediately told the clerk at the front desk before getting on the elevator up to the ninth floor. 

As Hyomin got out, she sensed an odd feeling coming from the floor, as if something happened that made the place unusually quieter than normal. Still determined to meet with Jaekyung, she pressed on, only to see that the door to her apartment was slightly open. Hyomin paused and carefully looked inside, scanning the room in case someone was around. There was none. 

She stepped inside, noticing how extravagant her ex-husband furnished the place. It almost made her want to scoff, yet that feeling was overtaken by a sense of dread as she approached the bedroom, the door also slightly open. As Hyomin opened the door fully, she nearly dropped her bag and screamed in horror. 

Jaekyung was lying face down against her dresser and some blood had seeped onto the white rug underneath. She had been shot. Hyomin ran to the phone beside the bed to call the front desk. “Quick! Quick! Send somebody up here right away. Something terrible has happened!” 

~ 

Yunho and Juhyun were in bed later that night, both of them dressed to go to sleep while Asta was curled up in the corner. She looked over at the clock. “11:30, it’s almost Christmas, Yuyu.” 

“If that’s a hint, you can drop it. You will get your present at breakfast, not a minute before,” Yunho lay back down on his side of the bed and she watched him. 

“Cheat,” She gently poked his side, making him flinch. “You know, I’ve been thinking. It’s funny how Junho popped up all of a sudden.” 

“Yes, wasn’t it?” He mumbled, closing his eyes as he tried to sleep.

“Do you think there’s anything behind it?” 

“Why should there be?” He opened one eye. 

“I don’t know, it just strikes me as funny, that’s all,” She replied, watching him. The phone rang. “Phone’s on your side, Yuyu, you better answer it,” and she lay down with a satisfied grin upon seeing his reaction. 

Yunho groaned and lazily picked up the phone. “Hello? This is he. Hello Sungyoung- What?” He sat up, making Juhyun look up at him. “Oh I see. Of course, of course, I’ll be there,” And he hung up, looking surprised. 

“What is it?” Juhyun noticed his expression. 

“Woo Jaekyung’s been murdered.”  

[oldfashionedmoth]

Fred and George do QVC

Find me on AO3

It was a bright, sunny, Saturday afternoon, and Harry Potter was stuck inside folding laundry. He stared longingly at the window, wishing he was anywhere but here. Lately, he had been feeling listless and filled with ennui. His life at the Dursley’s was considerably less exciting than his life at school. Albeit, he didn’t have a crazed, nose-less, master wizard, trying to murder him here; but even that might have been an improvement, to the boredom he had felt all summer. He glanced across the room at his Aunt Petunia, who lounged on the sofa, half asleep. He wondered if she’d notice if he escaped outside, for a breath of fresh air. Uncle Vernon had just left, with Dudley and his friends, to see a professional football match. This was one of the numerous birthday surprises his aunt and uncle had lavished their son with. Harry would have liked to had gone too, but he was told “the laundry wasn’t going to fold itself.”

“If I were allowed to use magic outside of school, the laundry certainly *would* fold itself.” Harry thought bitterly.

The TV chattered away in the background.

“…and just so we’re clear, these are dishwasher safe?”  

“Yes, that’s right, Antonella. The Scrub Daddy is absolutely dishwasher safe.”

“And remember, you’re getting 12 of these! Order code 63528, when you call in.”

“Yes, and just quickly…because I know we are running out of time… I wanted to show you that the design for these is not just a smiley face. These are fully functional. Put your two fingers in the eye holes like so, and it stays on your fingers. That’s going to be fantastic for getting inside of mugs, cups, you name it.”

“Wow! that’s ingenious!”

The presenter turned and addressed the camera directly, holding the item for sale.

“Look! Here is what you’re getting, guys. And this packaging! Ah!  This custom packaging is exclusive to QVC, guys. And, all this could be yours, for 4 easy payments of $7.49. Amazing!”

The camera zoomed in, on the presenter’s face.

“Coming up, we have a couple of young entrepreneurs, showing us their latest confections. I’m sure we all know someone with a sweet tooth. Just wait till you see what these boys have in store for us today. But first, make sure you get your orders in for the Scrub Daddy. These things are selling like hot cakes!”

The shot cut to a pre-recorded infomercial, for Scrub Daddy sponges.  

“Hmmph!” Aunt Petunia snorted “I should order some of those for you, so you’ll stop ruining my pots!”  

Harry muttered under his breath “Well, if you fixed the dishwasher, instead of using me as your personal slave, I wouldn’t have to scrub the pots.”

“What was that?!” snapped Aunt Petunia, “You ungrateful little brat! After all your uncle and I have done for you; taking you in, like we did, after your parents…well…You should be ecstatic that I even offered to buy you anything!”

In a huff, she snatched the remote control off the coffee table and turned up the volume.

Harry put the folded laundry in the basket and stood to bring them upstairs.

“Up next, we have twins Fred and George Weasley, of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, here with us today. Welcome boys!”

Harry froze, gobsmacked. Much to his disbelief, there was his best friend’s older brothers, peddling their wares on QVC. One was wearing an evening tailcoat, which was neon orange with lime green polka dots. His trousers were also neon orange, but with a lime green tuxedo stripe running down each leg. The other twin was wearing the same tailcoat and tuxedo trousers, but in inverse colors to his brother. In contrast to the loudness of their jackets, both boys were wearing black cravats around their necks, giving them a ‘Victorian Regency on acid’ kind of look.

“Thanks for having us, Antonella. We’re happy to be here!” said one of the twins

“Remind us to buy a pack of those Scrub Daddies, before we leave.” said the other, “Our Dad would get such a kick out of them. Sponges with smiley faces. What a concept! Haha!”

His brother leaned into him, and theatrically whispered “We don’t need them ourselves. We can just use Malfoy’s head.” He held up two fingers in a sideways peace sign, and pretended to poke his brother in both eyes. “His hair is great at soaking up grease.”

The twins snickered together, as the presenter, unperturbed, carried on with the sales pitch.

“Fred and George have brought with them some of their Skiving Snackbox candies. Now, judging by the names of some of these, I think these would be perfect as a novelty get-well present, for someone in your life who’s been feeling a little under the weather. There’s something for every ailment. We’ve got ‘fever fudge’, ‘fainting fancies’, ‘nosebleed nougat’ and last but not least, ‘puking pastilles.’ Hehe! Now, what made you boys come up with this concept, for these sweets?”

“Well,” said Fred, “they’re not exactly for someone who’s already sick."

"That could result in some disastrous side effects.” quipped George

Fred turned to the camera and added “Always read the labels, kids!”

George continued, “They make you temporarily ill, if for example, you wanted the day off work. You pop in a fainting fancy. Bob’s your uncle-Fanny’s your Aunt, suddenly your GP has prescribed you a day of bed rest.”

“Oh, but totally 100% all muggle, I mean natural. 100% all natural.” Fred interjected

“Yes, definitely nothing magical about these candies at all.” George agreed, with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, I get it!” exclaimed the host, “That’s just like the Natural Herbal Detox Tea, we had on the show last month. This may be TMI, but I swear I was on the toilet for a week, after that segment! Hehehe!”  

Fred laughed and said, “Now would be a good time for me to tell one of my poop jokes.”

George replied “Nah, they always stink!”

“Hey-oh!” they cried, while high-fiving each other.

“You know what you needed?” Fred asked the host, “The Skiving Snackbox’s companion product, ‘You-No-Poo’. Guaranteed to cause crippling constipation in less than 3 minutes!”

“The constipation sensation, that’s gripping the nation!” exclaimed George

“Well, being conscious of time, lets move right along.” Antonella said, “Our viewers at home are probably wondering ‘but how do they taste?’ Let’s find out, shall we?”

She popped a candy into her mouth, and immediately started retching.

“NOOO!” the twins shouted in unison.

“You’re not supposed to eat the whole thing at once!” lamented Fred

“You’re only supposed eat half!” followed George

“The antidote is in the second half.” continued Fred

The poor unsuspecting host began urging in a rhythmic way, “Blech...Blech...Blech...Blech...”  

“Oh no!” wailed George “I think she’s stuck in vom-limbo.”

“Both sides of the sweet must be working against each other!” added Fred

“It’s simultaneously trying to make her be sick, and also keeping any sick from coming up.” George concurred.

Panic-stricken, Fred started rifling through his rugsack. He began removing items and throwing them behind him. A roll of parchment; a quill; various bottles and vials; a bowler hat; a cup of tea, complete with saucer; a set of fireworks, which exploded upon impact with the floor; a broom; a Yorkshire pudding; a literal kitchen sink...  

Between urges, Antonella asked “How...blech...did...blech...you...blech...fit...blech...all...blech...that...blech...in...blech...there?”

“Never mind that now! Here, eat this!” bellowed Fred, shoving the found antidote in the host’s mouth.

Finally, the retching stopped, but with it came a lengthy spew of vomit across the set, with such ferocity it rivaled Linda Blair in the exorcist. The show quickly switched to camera angle “B” to avoid broadcasting Antonella’s lost lunch to the viewers.

“I think it’s best we...uhh...take a little break,” the presenter said shakily, wiping tears and vomit from her face. “ugh... Up next we have Ken Oschipok with his beautifully iridescent Ammolite and White Zircon silver rings...ahh...oh...just a second, my producer is telling me something...”

She touched her finger to her ear, turned away from the camera and hissed into her mic “What do you mean you can’t find the rings? A Platypus? Are…are you sure it was a platypus? How did a platypus get in here, and why would it steal our merchandise?”

Fred and George exchanged worried glances.

The presenter looked back to camera, with a wide grin plastered on her face, “Sorry guys, we are just having a little bit of...umm...technical difficulties. We’ll be right back wi...OH!”

Suddenly a red envelope swooped down out of nowhere, flicked Antonella across the nose and stopped abruptly in front of the twins. A loud but shrill voice echoed throughout the studio.

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! OF ALL THE COCKAMAMIE STUNTS YOU’VE EVER PULLED — MUGGLE TV? YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I RECEIVED A CALL FROM RITA SKEETER, ASKING FOR A QUOTE FROM THE DELINQUENTS’ MOTHER — I NEVER — IN ALL MY DAYS — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK ~ AGAIN! AS IF THE MINISTRY HASN’T BEEN FACING ENOUGH BACKLASH, AFTER THAT NIFFLER GETTING LOOSE, NOW THIS? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? YOU TWO COME HOME THIS INSTANT!!!"

Once the assault on everyone’s ears subsided, the presenter unsteadily staggered out of shot, with her hand on her forehead, murmuring “I think I need a nap, or a drink, or both”

The screen cut to another pre-recorded infomercial; a cheerful rock jingle began to play.

You wanna skip class, but not look like an ass? If you want an excuse; What have you got to lose? You better show some moxie, Grab a Skiving Snack Box-y From Weasley- Wizard - Wheezes!

Harry stood slack jawed, in the living room, transfixed by what had just played out on the tv in front of him. Clean laundry scattered around his feet, from where he’d dropped the basket.

“Bloody Hell! Those crazy troll bogeys!” He thought with a grin. A shocked guffaw escaped his throat.

Aunt Petunia gave him a scandalized glare and shrieked “I suppose you have something to do with this?”

Harry scooped all the laundry into his arms and dashed upstairs before she could chastise him any further. Although, he imagined any tongue-lashing Aunt Petunia could give him, would pale in comparison to the dressing down the twins were probably getting, from Molly Weasley, right now. She is one fierce boss-witch.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall at the Burrow, right now” Harry said to himself, with a chuckle. “I can’t wait to hear the details from Ron!”

[someonefantastic]

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

So this is an idea that I've been toying around with for a while thanks to the Psych discord but never actually did anything with it until now. Fun fact, this is actually the second time I've written this and I'm still not super happy with it but oh well, I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! Summary: Gus, Henry, and Juliet have all be kidnapped, leaving a furious psychic and head detective to do something about it. Warnings: blood, kidnapping, descriptions of torture also on ao3 ___ He marched into the interrogation room, slamming the door so hard that the one-way glass rattled. “This is so dumb!” He growled, grabbing a chair, sending it clattering to the ground.

It had been 23 hours since he last saw his dad, 14 hours since he saw his girlfriend, and 11 since he saw his best friend. He had left Gus at Psych to go meet Juliet for lunch but learned that she had been out on a call. When he returned to the office, Gus was gone. Juliet never came back from her assignment and his dad had never shown up for his shift. They had all gone missing.

“Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, pushing off the far wall. With a few quick strides, he stood in front of the distressed man. “I know you’re angry, hell I’m furious, but I need you to call down.” He scowled, “I will throw you in the lockup.”

Shawn’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched and unclenched. He wasn’t sure if he was going to punch the detective or the wall but both seemed like good options at the moment. But after a moment, all of the air seemed to deflate out of him and he collapsed into one of the still-standing chairs.

He dropped his head into his hands, his voice coming out muffled. “Lassie, the people I care about most in my life have disappeared off the face of the planet and now the chief won’t let either of us investigate because we’re too close to the case.” He lifted his eyes a little to look at the head detective. “It’s one thing if I’m not allowed on it but you’re the only other person I trust most to find them and you can’t even do anything either.” Dropping his face back into his palms he sighed, shaking his head.

Lassiter frowned, stooping down to grab the overturned chair and sitting in it. “It sucks. But it’s protocol and there’s nothing we can do about it. I know the Chief will stop at nothing to find them. All we can do is wait.”

There was a muffled groan. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left Gus behind or should have come to the station earlier. If I was with both of them, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Or you could have been taken too.”

“Anything would be better than sitting here, not knowing.”

He nodded, staring off into the distance. “I know.” He saw Shawn’s head pop up as the man shot him a confused look. “I should have gone with O’Hara. I left her without a partner.”

“I guess we both have a lot of regrets.”

“Yep.”

The two sat in almost silence, the only sound was Shawn’s foot steadily hitting the ground as he bounced his leg. They were stuck, bound by the laws of the jobs they loved- unable to protect the people they loved. Suddenly, there was another clatter of a chair as Shawn jumped to his feet. “This is dumb.”

Lassiter shot him a glare. “You’ve said that.”

“I know! But we need to do something!” He slammed his hands on the table between them, “Come on Lassie, let’s investigate... off the books.”

“Spencer, you know I can’t do that. There are rules.”

“Ah to hell with rules! This is my dad, this is Gus, this is Jules for pete’s sake! We have to do something.”

The two started, eyes waging war as they waited for his response. With a sigh, he shook his head falling back into his chair, “I can’t Spencer. We just have to trust the department.”

Shawn’s jaw clenched, eyes burning. He opened his mouth to say something just as the door opened and Buzz entered, looking his usual mix of cheery yet confused.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt but the Chief wants you guys to go to the conference room? Guess there’s some development on the disappearance case.” He jabbed a thumb behind him and was nearly thrown off balance as both Shawn and Lassiter tore from the room.

As the two entered the conference room, the Chief motioned towards some chairs, urging them to take a seat; a tv had been wheeled in behind her. “Gentlemen, I know I said you were to be off this case due to your personal involvement but we just received this,” she held up an evidence baggie, a black videotape rested inside, “along with a note stating that you two were to watch it. Now I don’t know what its contents entail but I want Mr. Spencer to see if he can get a read off of it.” She shot him a pointed look. “If you two can conduct yourself properly, I will consider letting you onto this case.”

They both nodded, not wanting to say or do anything that would put their involvement in jeopardy. After inserting the tape, she stood back, arms crossed, as the screen burst to life.

The footage revealed Gus, Henry, and Juliet all shackled to chairs. Henry was unconscious, his head bent at an awkward angle and dried blood on the side of his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Lassiter watched Shawn grip the arms of his chair. He almost followed suit as the camera revealed his partner. He could make out some bruising around one of her half-closed eyes and her arm had clearly been broken and then shoved into the shackles. Gus wasn’t better off. Dried blood spanned from his nose to his chest and he was hunched over slightly as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.

A man dressed in all red stood off to the side, his face covered but his stance was confident. His voice was raspy as he spoke, pacing around before the camera, “Good evening. I am King of the El Ray.” Lassiter’s stomach churned. The El Ray were one of the most notorious gangs in California and King was their leader. No one had ever been able to figure out who he was or how to take him down. “I understand that your department has recently made some… progress in taking down my empire.” He paused his pacing, staring straight into the lens. “Well if you take my guys, I’ll take yours.”

Lassiter had to take some deep breaths to calm himself as the man continued to talk. “I wanted to take your heavy hitters, like that psychic or your head detective. You know, an eye for an eye sort of deal,” He chuckled darkly, “but then I realized that there’s no fun in that. Taking the people they care most about is so much better.” Shawn growled next to him.

He waved his hand nonchalantly, “Anyways, my demands are simple. Donate ten grand to three different organizations, you’ll find the information in a package that will arrive shortly, and release my men from prison.” Sauntinger over to where Juliet sat, he ran a gloved finger down her cheek, and Lassiter’s jaw clenched. "Every hour you don’t do what I’ve asked, will be another hour of pain for these lovely people. Don’t believe me? Well in addition to sending photographic proof, I’ll also give you a little taste of what they’re in for.” In one swift movement, he grabbed Juliet’s hair, slamming her head forward as his knee came up to connect with her nose.

Lassiter saw red. He vaguely heard the man continuing to talk and Shawn jumping to his feet but the next thing he knew, his own fist was through the screen.

“Detective Lassiter!” The Chief yelled, her eyes wide and mouth open. “I will have to ask you to conduct yourself calmly or I will have someone lock you- both of you,” She sent a pointed look to Shawn who was standing with a broken armchair in his hand, “Or I will have you locked up for destruction of government property.”

Lassiter nodded, clutching his fist to his chest, the broken skin already beginning to bleed. “Sorry Chief, I’ll pay for that.”

“Yes, you will.” She looked between the both of them, “Now in light of recent developments, it is clear that you two are not to be allowed on the case.” She put her hand up as Shawn opened his mouth to protest, “I understand Mr. Spencer, that these are people you care about but you two are too close to this case. I will have our best people put on it and due to the nature of the El Ray, the feds will be called in. We will find them.”

After a quiet moment, her shoulders dropped, “Look, I don’t like this either. These are my people too and while I may be acting hard, this is just as difficult for me. But we have rules and protocol and I, unfortunately, have to follow it. So I can’t officially put you on this case. Understand?”

Both of them nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

As the two began to leave the room, she called out causing them to pause, “Detective. I hear they’ve got new weapons in the armory.”

Lassiter swore he saw the shadow of a smile on her face but it just as quickly disappeared. Grabbing Shawn’s arm, he steered them both towards the stairs. “Okay, Spencer. I’m in. Let’s go take down this SOB.”

[catchlalune]

My Dearest Rose

a/n: hello again my starbursts! I hope quarantine is treating you well, please don’t forget to keep practicing social distancing! In the next installment of fics I may never finish writing is one very dear to me, I was having soooo much fun writing it but admittedly lost my steam. There are a lot of errors that I haven’t fixed and though the plot was thought out it was not completed in its entirety (obvi) it was maybe about 55% complete? But please give me some feedback and tell me if you like this style of song fic! (Also the very end is supposed to be very close to the very end of the story, I jumped around a bit whilst writting it!)

Pairing: Kim Woosung x Reader

Word Count: 3012

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Fantasy! Au, Cinderella! Au (Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella to be more precise)

Warnings: mentions of minor character death

The sweetest sounds I’ll ever hear are still inside my head

The kindest words I’ll ever know are waiting to be said

The most entrancing sight of all is yet for me to see, and the dearest love in all the world is waiting somewhere for me

The first time you meet him it is down by the public shoppes. He’s someone you’ve never met before and someone you are sure you’d remember due to the color of his hair, golden like inside of an iris’s petals.

 His eyes were so brown and so kind you had trouble responding to him when he spoke to you. 

“Miss? Are you alright?” You have to blink several times for his words to register in your head and when they do, you jolt and quickly look to the ground. 

“Yes, I think so.” You finally speak up as you gather the packages that were dropped when you were trying to not be trampled by the majestic horses and the beautiful blue carriage embroidered with the most astonishing golden detailing. 

“Those royals, never caring if they’re in someone’s way.” He comments as he begins to stack the packages for you and you quickly take them from him. 

“Oh, I’m sure they were going somewhere very important.” you reply sheepishly He doesn’t seem to buy that but gives you a gentle smile nonetheless. 

“Important enough to almost run someone over? I’m not sure about that.” He remarks, with a telling smile. You stop for a second just to think over his words, your brows furrowing as you turn from him. 

“Well, thank you, thank you very much.” You thank him meekly remembering you really are in a hurry, but before can make your getaway he frantically follows you. 

“Wait, what’s your name?” He asks, questioningly. You weren’t inclined to answer but you did nonetheless. 

“(Your name)? I like it.” The smile he gives you is charming, fit for a prince you think. 

“It grows on you I guess, if you’ll excuse me I really must deliver these now.” You can hear the fatigue in your voice as you say that and you turn to leave again but he continues to follow. 

“I can help! I do wish to speak to you some more and figure out what a man would need to learn in order to get in your good graces.” He says cheerfully and he takes the heaviest boxes from your arms before you can think about protesting. He just sets off in the direction you were headed.

“Well, I suppose I should know the name of the man that would like to know. And why he might be so adamant in helping out a girl he’s just met.” You sass as you jog after him.

“Let’s just say that he’s” a charming stranger.” He chuckles out, smirking.

“How charming can he be if he won’t answer a simple enough question as his name?” You ask as you stray away from him for a moment to drop off a package to the baker’s wife who was waiting outside of the bakery for you. She greets you with a wide smile and a warm muffin freshly baked. She sends you off with well wishes and a Tell your father thank you!

“How well do you know the people of this town?” You jump a little at the voice of the strange man to your left. 

“I’d feel more obligated to answer once I know how to address you.” You shrug. He laughs and shakes his head. 

“I thought I would be able to get away with not telling you but I concede. My name is Woosung.” He says pleasantly

“I’m not sure why you wouldn’t want to tell me if you want to help me but alright, it’s a pleasure to meet you Woosung.”  You say almost dropping a box. 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” He replies smoothly. You want to smile at that but cover it up with a shift of the packages in your arms. 

“So it is.” 

With the help of Woosung you were able to get the deliveries done much faster than anticipated. Though he was a little strange and a bit over eager he was kind enough to help you with your task and see it through to the end. You decided it best to reward him by sharing half of your muffin with him. 

“It is much better when it’s still warm and with a glass of cold milk. My mother always thought so anyway.” You comment, remembering. He perks up at that while mumbling the question you so dreaded hearing with a mouthful of muffin, his stuffed cheeks making him look like a woodland creature. 

“Thought so?” 

“Yes, she passed when I was five. I remember bits and pieces but not everything.” You say. His shoulders slump and he gives you a sympathetic look. 

He replies. “I apologize for asking.” You were glad he didn’t say he was sorry for her passing, for you never really knew what to say after that in a conversation.

“There’s no need for an apology. I’ve learned to live with it now, my father had a girlfriend a couple years past and she was nice at first. Until she wanted me to call her mother then she got very mean. She made me do all the chores around the house alone and then at the end of the day would make me sleep in front of the fireplace as her two daughters took my room.” You state, seemingly unhappy with it.

“And your dad did nothing to stop it?” There was anger simmering underneath his tone. 

“He wasn’t around often. He may have been around for a week at a time before leaving for business trips. Until one day I begged him to stay or to take me with him and then he questioned why. My stepmother and sisters left very promptly after that.” Is what you respond.

“What do you do now?” He asks,with eyes that seem to be hanging off your every word. 

“Now I work with him. We moved towns after that and we are actually fairly new here. We own the flower shoppe right down there.” You point to the shop on the far side of the square that sat on the corner of the road. The bench two of you sat on having the perfect view of the quaint little store. 

“I’m not sure why I told you all this. But I think it probably has to do with having the same old routine all the time.” You continue.

“I understand that. Working tirelessly day in and day out doing the same old thing. It is nice to do something out of the ordinary once in a while.” He nods looking up at the clouds that lazily passed by. You were glad that at least someone could understand you. 

“Well, what about you?” Your question seems to startle him. 

“M-me?” Was that a stutter? He seemed so confident a moment ago. “My story is not very interesting. Just a boring family living in a boring place surrounded by boring people doing boring tasks.” He sounded a bit bitter about it. 

“That does seem a bit uninteresting.” You remark, letting it go for now, allowing the silence to settle comfortably over you both. Well, as silent as the ambience of the busy town square would allow. When the sun begins to lull he stands and stretches looking much like a cat, the thought makes you giggle and he grins in your direction. 

“Leaving so soon, Prince Charming?” He blinks at you, a bit startled. “You act so gentlemanly, it is something befitting of a prince.” You tease.

He shakes his head at this. “Oh hardly m’lady, I am not deserving of such a title.” He tilts his head then a small frown adorning his lips. They were a pretty pink color like that of a peach-colored rose. You then wonder. “Will I see you again?” 

“Perhaps, if you are ever in need of a bouquet.” He says smiling at you again, always such a dazzling occurrence. 

“I will make sure to need one in the future. Then, I’ll be going first.” Woosung says, you nod at him a small wave after until he turns his back and disappears down the cobblestone walkway.  

When you turn to make your back way to the store, your best friend stands before you a question in his eyes and his arms folded across his chest. 

“Oh! Dojoon, you nearly frightened me to death.” You squeak out, the hand over your heart could hardly calm its frantic beating. 

“Who was that?” He questions. You weren’t sure why but the tone in his voice had you a bit miffed. He was a nosy man but all in good faith. He was the first person you bonded with in town after landing a job in your store and you two were basically attached to the hip ever since. Usually you two would take turns delivering and working in the store, often alternating between the tasks. He probably set out to find you after you took longer than usual to get back.

“A charming stranger, that’s all.” You said, opening the door to your store, not really caring too much if it hits him as it shuts. 

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” He pushes. Dojoon had no trouble keeping up with your shorter strides. 

“Who has a name?” Your father's voice makes you jump for the third time that day. 

“No one, papa. How were the sales today?” You say, diverting the conversation.

 The attempt to change the subject worked well in your favor as your father and Dojoon were easily distracted by telling you animated stories of the days events. You only listened half heartedly, in the back of your mind you hoped -though a strange thought-that you would be able to meet the charming man once again. 

♧♧♧

After that encounter, Woosung came back the next day, and then the next, always incredibly charming and princely. The two of you spent so much time together you hardly noticed the changing of the seasons, summer turning to autumn, autumn to winter, the chill of the snow bidding its farewell when spring came and nestled its way into the trees, breathing life back into the nature around you. 

The two of you often spent time working together, if he didn’t help you with deliveries then he was helping your father with business matters or Dojoon with tending the flowers. If anyone enjoyed Woosung’s company more than you it was Dojoon. He was certainly skeptical at first until he met him and then they bonded well over their common interests in black roses and music. 

“Aye, did you all hear? The prince is giving a ball!” One of your regulars Mr. Windsong informs you with a bright smile. You notice Woosung stiffen next to you but you choose not to say anything about it. 

“Oh is he? I’m sure that will be very nice for the royals.” You reply to him flippantly, you weren’t very interested in the affairs of the rich. 

“You should be more interested,” Mr. Windsong motions for you to lean in so he can whisper in your ear,you humor him if only to get him to leave. “I hear he is to be picking a princess. Any lady he sees fit to marry so all of the eligible young woman in the land are invited.” 

“Trying to marry my daughter off are you?” You giggle at your father’s grand entrance bringing with him the lingering smell of cherry blossoms from the outside. 

“Oh no papa, he was just telling me about the ball the Prince is holding.” You watch as your father raises his brows and hands off a couple packages to Woosung to put away. 

“Oh the I heard about that too, apparently his parents want to marry him off. A little strange if you ask me, the King isn’t even past his prime yet.” The wind chimes tinkle as Dojoon steps in and Mr. Windsong steps out bidding everyone a farewell. 

“Perhaps his parents just want what is best for him.” The three of you turn your heads to Woosung whose mouth is slightly turned downwards. 

“Perhaps, but regardless it has nothing to do with me,” You get up from your perch behind the register and pick up a watering can to water some yellow carnations. “I have no interest in marrying a prince, let alone one I don’t know. Don’t you think marrying someone you hardly know is barbaric? What’s the use of marriage if not to marry someone you love?” You remark.

“Well we don’t know if the prince is being forced into it, he could not be.” Woosung adds, smiling at you but you sigh shaking your head slightly. 

“I’m not talking about the prince, I’m talking about the women. Why are we expected to just fall in love at the drop of a dime? Who cares if you’re a prince or a common man if you just expect us to just fall at the mention of fame and fortune?” You rebuttal.

If there was one thing Woosung was not expecting it was that. Your words caused his skin to flush, they were so cold. 

“Now dear, not all men are the same.” Sensing the tension your father steps between the two of you and Dojoon lets out a loud boisterous laugh. 

“Honestly, papa. I’m as mild and as meek as mouse, whenever someone gives me a command I obey. But the idea of being forced into marriage infuriates me. I loathe it, what am I to do if the one I marry forces me into it to? Will I ever get to be myself?” You question.

“Listen to me dear, I will not let that happen. No one will ever force you into anything ever again, not even me.” Your father sets a warm palm on your shoulder as reassurance and you nod at him. 

“I know, I just get scared sometimes thinking of life outside this shop. What if when you pass I’m married off to some evil man? Money does the worst things to people papa.” You can hear the “emotion” in your voice.

You watch as Dojoon steps forward with a crooked smile and shakes his head. “What am I chopped liver? I thought we made a pact that if you weren’t to be married by the time of your father’s passing that we’d-”

“Why are we speaking as if I’m about to meet the undertaker?” Your father interrupts, his question makes both you and Dojoon laugh. 

“Not at all sir!” Dojoon says, face flushed from laughing.

“It’s just, mama passed out of nowhere it seemed and if that were to happen to you too well I..I wouldn’t know what to do.” You prune at a patch of Forget-Me-Not’s as you say this, you vaguely remember your mother being fond of the baby blue blooms. 

☆☆☆☆

"I yearn for you, for your soft glances and your approval. I have never known a feeling quite like this, I only wish for you to extinguish the fire inside me. Please, tell me you care for me too."

You can't help but look at him from his confession, affairs of the heart were not something you were well versed in. But you'd be lying if you said his presence didn't alight a fire in you and snuff it out all at once. Its the tenderness of his voice and the way the moon reflects off the water on to his face that makes your breath quicken, at least that's what you tell yourself. 

"You know I care for you."

"But do you care for me? Does me being a prince make a difference? Tell me now, and I won't ever bother you again but you have to speak to me. Please do not shut me out." Woosung sounds desperate and you cant help feeling it's your fault for making him this way. 

The two of you sit there for a long while, him waiting patiently and you staring at the way the moon hits the water. You want to say it, want to speak your truth but admission is so hard and you are so weary. Regardless of the passage of time Woosung never moves from your side, he remains even when the chirping of early morning birds can be heard. He knows you, he understands. 

"I- I wish to-" Your voice comes out hoarse but Woosung doesn't seem to mind, he just hangs on every last word. 

When you turn to him you can see the adoration in his eyes, it was always there sparkling and bright. You could always feel it, the way he seemed to find your gaze in a crowded room always. The way with which he spoke to you, soft and steady. The way with which he bore his heart to you, slow with no pressure. It is all you can think about before pressing your lips to his in a kiss that would make Aphrodite squeal. 

The touch of his lips on yours is so right, he melts into it but does not move to make it go any further. It is languid and full of the emotions you both can not hope to ever put into words. It is full of the longing and of two beating hearts that call out for each other. Even then he remains as he always has. 

"Charming." 

"My dearest love, you are the charming one. And I will always be right here for you." He speaks the words like the whisper of a song as he taps the spot on the left side of your breast where you can feel a hammering. 

It's clear to you now that from the very moment you met at the shoppes all those seasons ago that he had always been for you, waiting and patient. 

[heraldofzaun]

Childhood

Viktor Grigoryevich Pahlen is four years old when his father pulls him aside one evening. He will be starting school, soon - it is the summer, all low-hanging smog and trapped heat, and fall is coming sooner rather than later.

“Viktor,” Grigoriy says softly, looking at how his son is curled up on the chair opposite to him, “Viktor, look at me.”

Viktor’s face pops into view, no longer smushed against his shoulder in a position that both Grigoriy and Yekaterina find profoundly uncomfortable to look at. His hair sticks up at many angles: a testament to his tendency to squirm whenever Yekaterina tries to make him presentable. He’s pouting - but he is looking at Grigoriy. That’s progress.

“Your mother and I wanted to talk to you, before you start school in a few months,” and then it had been simply his job, but he is more well-suited to this than her, “about you.”

“But I’m me.”

“You are, yes, but…” and where to begin, “when you go with your mother to the store, or out in public, do you see that people are different than you?”

“Mh-hm. They’re bigger, because they’re adults.”

No. That’s not… it’s irrational, yes, but Grigoriy often wishes Viktor would simply grow up faster. He can explain surgeries while his gloves are deep within another living, breathing person but not genetic mutations to his own son because the language isn’t there. He has to repackage the medical journals and studies he’s read since the day Viktor was born into something that a child who has barely learned to write his letters correctly can understand.

Grigoriy tries again. “What about your hand, Viktor? Isn’t that different?”

Viktor shifts and stares at his left hand, all four pudgy fingers of it. If he were older, Grigoriy would explain that he is missing the fifth metacarpal and its associated phalanges… medical terms are so clear in a way this is not. But his son is young, and his words have to match.

“I guess,” and Viktor’s curled back in on himself again, voice muffled. “But I saw a man on the train who had no hand!”

“He probably lost it in an accident,” damn, that tone’s too sharp. “I mean to say… you’ve always had it.”

“Mh-hm!”

“And you know how your hair is different than others’, too.”

“Mom says that it’s thicker than the Kumungu.”

“…I’m sure she does,” probably while trying to corral Viktor into letting a brush so much as touch his head, much less a set of scissors. “But I meant the white streak. The white part.”

“Oh. But people have pink hair, I saw a woman-“

Grigoriy sighs. “It’s not natural, Viktor. Not like yours. And… you know how you sometimes get sick, yes?”

His son is practically a ball now, with his head tucked somewhere between his chest and knees. Do other children of this era do that? His coworkers have children in the workforce, now, and so the time to ask his peers is long-gone. Perhaps there are medical journals he can request, although the gods only know what keywords he could use.

“I don’t like that.”

“Neither do your mother and I. But it’s all the same, your hand and your hair and your stomach.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It is all from the same source, Viktor!” and that is the sound of Yekaterina dropping a pan into the sink - he shouldn’t have raised his voice. “It’s fine, dear,” Grigoriy calls to the other room.

Viktor has pulled himself out of the ball enough to focus his gaze on his father’s knee, or perhaps the hand resting on it. “…Sorry I made you mad.”

Oh… “It’s not you, Viktor. I’m…” just tired, just old, just out of my depth, “fine now. What I meant to say is that all of those are caused by the same thing. There’s…”

He has to explain genetics to a five-year-old, doesn’t he. That’s how this conversation ends. Maybe…

“I’ll be back.”

                                                        ---

Yekaterina is still in the kitchen, putting the last of the night’s dishes on the drying rack. She’s tired, too - the hours Grigoriy spends at the hospital, in surgeries and consults and teaching, she spends with Viktor and her work. Her research laboratory wants her back soon. They’d been generous with letting her have time off after Viktor’s birth, and then let her work from home as he aged… but he’ll be enrolled in school soon enough and then she can return to the lab for six hours on every weekday.

The two of them had mutually decided that her work would be the one to take a back-seat to Viktor, although Grigoriy sometimes wonders if raising a child would be less stressful than his long hours. Probably not.

“Did you explain it to him?” she asks quietly, drying off her hands.

“…I’m trying. I thought some diagrams could help.”

That gets a small laugh from her. “Maybe they will. I can tell you realized you can’t just treat him like one of the visiting students. You can’t yell at him, for one.”

She probably didn’t intend for her comment to hurt. “He kept talking about the kinds of people he sees when you take him out. Drawing the wrong comparisons.”

“He’s five, dear, what else is he supposed to do? It’s our job to make sure he makes the right ones.”

Another heavy sigh, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You’re right. It’s just been a long day.”

“I tend to be,” and she kisses him in return, “now go get those diagrams.”

                                                         ---

Grigoriy returns to the living room, holding a textbook as if it’s the key to immortality. It’s one from his undergraduate years, so it’s probably incredibly outdated in more than a few aspects - but he just wants it for the illustrations. He sits down across from Viktor, who’s currently splayed out in his chair like a ragdoll. Grigoriy notes the hypermobility of his son’s shoulders and elbows. That, too, is most likely tied to this topic of discussion.

“Viktor?” he asks, flipping through the book in search of the right page. “Can you come over here?”

Viktor rolls off of the chair with a thud but bounces to his feet only a moment after. He peers at the book with great interest. “What’s that?”

“It’s…” Grigoriy inhales, willing the words into place. “Your body is made up of a lot of little things called cells. They make up your skin, your hair, your brain… they make up you! In each-”

“But I’m me!” Viktor sounds indignant, as if the concept of cells is an affront to him.

“Ah… think of it like how… your arm is your arm, but it’s not all of you. You are more than just what makes you up. So, in-”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, in each of these cells is a lot of these,” he points to the illustration, a basic model of DNA. “This is DNA, and it tells your cells what to do. It makes sure that each cell is doing the right thing, so that eye cells are eye cells and… er, skin is skin… so on.”

This isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Grigoriy looks over to his son, who is… utterly terrified. Oh dear.

“If it messes up, could I grow hair out of my eyes?” Oh no. He’s crying. “I don’t wanna have hair in my eyes!”

Yekaterina chooses that moment to poke her head through the doorway. “Vityusha, you won’t grow hair out of your eyes.”

Grigoriy shoots her a look. She returns it, greying eyebrow raised high, as she fully enters the room.

“Dad said I would!”

“Your dad didn’t say anything like that,” she replies, crouching down and embracing Viktor. “You won’t grow hair out of your eyes. I promise.”

A muffled “Okay...” comes from the general area of Yekaterina’s shoulder. Viktor worms away from the hug and wipes his eyes.

Grigoriy, by contrast, feels completely lost at sea. His wife gives him another meaningful look, kisses him on the cheek once more (to the disgusted groans of Viktor), and leaves. Where was he? Cells, DNA, right…

“So the DNA tells your cells what to do. It tells them how to look, which is why people have different colors of hair, skin, and eyes. Your DNA comes from your parents, which is why you look like your mom and I…”

“But I don’t! My hair!”

“Sometimes the DNA doesn’t… do its job,” Grigoriy adds, pointing to the diagram. “These pairs tell your DNA what to do. Sometimes they get… mixed up or damaged. Then you have a mutation. Sometimes these mutations are good, sometimes they are bad… ah, and so you have some mutations.”

“Are mine bad?”

Grigoriy squeezes his eyes shut. How is he supposed to answer this? Yes, Viktor, they’re bad. You’re missing a finger and we had to have surgery done to give you a good quality-of-life. And even that didn’t fix everything. That would just make his son convinced that he was somehow defective. No, Viktor, they’re good. Some people dye their hair to look like what you have. That was just a lie. Maybe some did, but fashionable hair wasn’t worth these costs…

“They… they’re just mutations. They don’t make you bad. They make you… unique. Special.”

“Oh!”

“And…” here is where the real point of this comes through, “sometimes, people may say rude things about your mutations. Like when you go to school in a few months.”

“Because I’m special and they’re not?”

That is certainly one way to look at it. Should he dissuade Viktor from that line of reasoning? Tell him the truth: that children are cruel because their parents are, and that they will take any sign of weakness as a signal to attack? That Grigoriy and Yekaterina can’t be there for him at school, can’t defend him from unkind words and rumors? That he will carry these signs throughout his life, signs that Zaun’s atmosphere is toxic… signs that his parents, perhaps, were too old. That some would say that Viktor should not have been brought into this world.

How could Grigoriy ever package such harsh truths into something a child could understand? Maybe in a few years, maybe when Viktor is a teenager… maybe then he could be told these facts without them destroying him. He needs to be nurtured now, the flame of his curiosity tended to so it can grow into a fire. If this misbelief can guard him against those who would snuff his flame out, then there’s only one answer Grigoriy can give. He shuts the textbook with a thud.

“Yes, exactly that. So don’t listen to anyone who tells you that you’re anything else.”

[ft-dads-au]

Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 4

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Coffee Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Next: Ch 5

Summary: When Sting finally returns home, he dreads having to tell Rogue why he's been out for so long. Not only does he have to confess he told his father everything, but he also needs to mention he has made an appointment with a therapist, a friend of his dad's, who he will be meeting at the coffee shop the next day.

Chapter 4: Coffee

The sound of the key twisting in the lock startled Rogue out of his sleep. He hadn't meant to doze off on the couch, but his nights were short, and the warmth of the sun rising on the side of their bedroom caused him to wake up early, so he should've known it was bound to happen the moment he'd sat down to watch tv as he waited for Sting to return from his run.

His phone must've been in his hand when he'd fallen asleep, as it was now laying right next to him on the couch with the messaging app still open, the text Sting had sent him as a reply displayed on the screen. Looking at the time, Rogue noticed that had been nearly two hours ago.

"Hey, sorry I was gone so long," Sting called from the hallway as he kicked off his running shoes, "I wanted to call you, but my battery died."

There was something off about his voice, it was missing its usual verve and sounded even less like him than it had over the past days. Rogue rubbed the blurriness of sleep out of his eyes and pulled himself off the couch, getting ready to ask why he'd been out for close to 4 hours, but as soon as he saw Sting trudging into the living room, the words got stuck in his throat. He looked exhausted, sweaty, his hair all messed up and sticking to his forehead, and he could flash him that sweet smile all he wanted, but Rogue could easily see that he had been crying.

Worry broke through Rogue's sleepy daze, quickly followed by the heaviness of guilt at the thought that Sting's tears were somehow a result of how dismally the last week had gone. Even though he'd been checked out for large parts of it, Rogue still knew that it was nothing like what they had excitedly planned over phone conversations.

Instead of visits to amusement parks and beaches, the furthest they had ventured out had been the coffee shop. Sitting together on their bench swing to read or watch the sunset was certainly pleasant enough, but it was a far cry from frolicking in the surf or going on fast paced rides, both of which were much more Sting's style.

To his credit, Sting had not complained once about their lack of activity, in fact, he'd been nothing but supportive, even managing to rein in his natural rambunctiousness so that Rogue could get rest. Had Rogue done anything for him in that time?

Try as he might, he couldn't think of a single thing, and that realization made him sad. He was well aware that in many ways, Sting was waiting on him, and it was frustrating that he couldn't seem to move in any direction. That stupid nightmare had destroyed all the progress he'd made in the last few months, hurtling him right back to those first days after the attack. He needed to do better before he managed to lose the one thing that had been holding him together.

Arming himself with courage, he forced himself to stay in the moment, to take care of Sting for once, regardless of how much he feared his response. "What happened?"

"I- uh…" Sting took a deep breath that only fed into Rogue's fear, his heart racing as he tried not to let his imagination run away with him while he waited for Sting to say something.

When a minute had passed, and Sting still hadn't said anything Rogue began to feel awkward and hoping to come up with something to break the silence he looked down at himself, trying to remember how many days he'd been wearing the same set of clothes. To his great embarrassment, he wasn't even sure. He certainly didn't smell pleasant. Not that Sting did either at that moment.

That gave him an idea, one that would hopefully relax Sting enough to be able to tell him whatever was bothering him. "Come on," Rogue beckoned Sting to follow, only stopping long enough to get two clean towels from the linen closet.

He entered his parents' bedroom, which he usually kept closed, leading Sting to their bathroom and the jacuzzi tub it contained. He rarely used it because it was such a pain in the ass to clean up after, and although he wasn't particularly looking forward to it now either, he was willing to put up with it so they could share a nice moment together. At least, he hoped so.

The change of scenery seemed to loosen Sting's tongue, "This is nice," he said as he looked around the large room that was decorated in the blues that both his parents loved. It was devoid of pictures at the moment as his parents had taken the frames with them to the house they were renting in Alvarez, but Rogue could remember the location of each and every one.

Refusing to let himself get caught up in more sad thoughts, he quickly entered the bathroom, knowing Sting would follow. He ran the tap, and as they waited for the tub to fill up, he dove into his mother's bathroom cabinet, picking some brightly colored bath bomb from all the fancy bath supplies she kept there and putting it on top of the laundry basket along with their towels.

"We should rinse off first," he pointed out, frowning in disgust at the staleness of his t-shirt when he pulled it over his head. He didn't know why, maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was because he felt now wasn't the time to be ogling Sting as he was undressing and needed an alternative, but once he'd taken his clothes off, his eyes were drawn to the mirror above the sink.

He didn't see what he'd feared to see, the flashback of his own reflection from right after the attack he'd sometimes see when facing a mirror, but the reality wasn't exactly a load off his mind either.

"You should've told me I looked like an escaped convict," he mumbled while staring at the combined result of his lack of sleep and personal care.

"I mean, I didn't fall for you just for your appearance," Sting retorted weakly.

It was a sweet thing for him to say, and Rogue knew that, but the bitter thought that whatever it was he did end up falling for was probably hard to find was stopping him from feeling touched by it. He quickly tore his gaze away from the mirror again before thoughts like these could get the chance to take root and grow, which would only cause him to turn in on himself even more.

Grabbing Sting's hand, he led them into the shower. "It's probably going to be cold, we're already using hot water for the bath, so…"

"It's fine, I'm all warm and sweaty anyway," Sting shrugged, but when Rogue turned on the water, he yelped and squirmed around, just as Rogue expected.

A soft chuckle escaped him, as he felt glad to see some of his boyfriend's usual silliness return. He grabbed one of the bottles of shampoo and quickly started lathering Sting's hair and body, offering a little bit of warmth.

"T-T-Thanks," Sting managed through clattering teeth before hesitantly returning the favor.

Under different circumstances, if they weren't hurrying to get out from under the cold stream as fast as they could, and if they hadn't both been agitated, it could've been romantic. A preface to something more intimate, the likes of which their relationship had lacked over the past week. That was another thing Rogue regretted, and yet, as much as he'd tried and wanted to, he couldn't break through the veil of numbness he was trapped in. He wished that it was different.

Much to Sting's relief, Rogue turned off the shower, deeming them clean enough to get into the now half full bath. He lowered himself into the water slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the change from cold to hot, unlike Sting, who all but dove right in.

"Go ahead and chuck it in," he said, giving Sting the bath bomb, hoping that fiddling with the packaging would de-stress him a bit as well. He took in Sting's expressions, the concentration on his face as he peeled away the plastic layer and aimed for the trash bin to throw it away.

Sting missed and apologized immediately, "Sorry, I'll go pick it up and throw it out-" he got up, but Rogue grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Later," he told him softly. He could care less about leaving a mess right now. He just wanted them both to relax and enjoy the bath.

Sting gave him another weak smile and dropped the bath bomb into the water, watching absently as it fizzed and gave off a deep purple color and the scent of lavender.

"Please don't be mad at me," he mumbled, seemingly out of nowhere, causing Rogue to once again tense up with nerves as he wondered what he should be mad about. Not quite knowing how to filter his racing thoughts to form a response, he just reached out to grab Sting's hand under the water and waited for him to continue.

"I just-I don't know…I want to be there for you, but I don't know how and it's frustrating me. I guess I've been taking out those frustrations on my runs."

Rogue nodded, having noticed that Sting had been gone a bit longer and came back more tired from running than he usually did. He wished he'd taken that more seriously as a sign.

"It hasn't really helped, though," Sting sighed, "so today I ran, and I ran, and I ran...and I ended up near the studio. I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to go into that alley, but I did, and it really fucked me up."

Rogue flinched, just thinking back to that place, feeling the cold, rough bricks against the back of his head all over again. Smelling the rain and seeing a flash of a dirty wall with a work of artistic vandalism on it.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I get that. I can't even begin to fathom how it must be for you if it's already having such a big effect on me, but that's just the problem. I can't ignore the effect it's having on me anymore."

Rogue could only keep nodding and feel terrible for how difficult he'd been making this. What would he have done if it had been the other way around? If Sting had been the one assaulted and he'd be the one experiencing the fallback of it?

Rogue wished he could say he'd know the right thing to do, what even was the right thing to do when it was all just so wrong?

"I-" Sting hesitated, taking a deep breath as he readied himself to go on, "I called my dad," he finally spilled, "and I told him everything."

Rogue let that sink in. The first reaction he had to it was a deep sense of shame, giving him the desire to shrink into himself. He liked Sting's parents a lot and hated to think about how this might change their opinion about him.

"What, uhm, what did he say?" Rogue stammered, not noticing he'd begun to shake until he felt Sting's arms surround him and heard the word Easy whispered in his ear until he stopped.

"Mostly, he just listened. He's upset that it happened, and uhm, maybe a bit worried about you," Sting cleared his throat nervously, "but he told me I had to let you deal with it in your own way, even if I didn't agree with how you're going about it."

Rogue had to admit he was surprised by that, he'd expected a doctor to demand he undergo some sort of treatment, and he was immensely grateful, even though that advice didn't help Sting's situation any.

"Still, he must think I'm pretty stupid for not doing anything," Rogue mumbled, wondering what his relationship with Sting's father would be like now that he knew about what had happened.

"He thinks no such thing, and you don't have to worry about my mom finding out, he promised to keep it between us," Sting sighed, "He just- he wants us both to get better."

Rogue felt Sting shift in the tub until he was gazing at him earnestly, "I want that too. I love you, none of this changes that. But-," Sting looked away for a moment before fixing him with a determined expression," I need to talk about it, to work through my own guilt and anger before it has the chance to tear us apart."

Rogue wanted to assure him that there was nothing for him to feel guilty about, but Sting wasn't finished, "I made an appointment to speak to a psychiatrist, I'm meeting him tomorrow."

Those words were enough to silence him. He wanted to protest because Sting shouldn't have to go that far just to be with him, but he was also filled with admiration for his boyfriend. He wasn't floundering in the shadows. It had taken him all of one week to go from there's a problem to actively trying to fix it, and it was a worldview that was so alien to Rogue.

How many times in his life had he just ignored problems until they either went away on their own or the decision was taken out of his hands? It was the only way he knew how to be, this was really the first time that approach hadn't really worked. They'd be spending their first time naked in a hot tub together a lot differently if it had, not to mention what should've been the summer of a lifetime.

But the summer wasn't over yet, and Rogue wanted to make the best of the time they had left before they were bogged down with school. If Sting was doing his best effort to improve their situation, then so should he. The idea of going to therapy still sent him into a panic, but the least he could do was take better care of himself. Shower and get dressed every day, even if he ended up staying at home. Stop skipping meals and eat more regularly. Maybe he could pick up his workouts again or try tagging along with Sting for morning runs if he could manage to fix his sleep schedule a bit.

It all sounded so simple, but he knew it wasn't going to be since he'd struggled with it all week. Still, he was determined to try. He'd have to start somewhere, and with that in mind, he vowed that the first thing he'd do once he was out of the bath was to shave off that awful stubble.

The water in the tub had finally risen past the jets, so Rogue turned it off while thinking about what he wanted to say. "I love you too," he responded simply, "and if talking to someone about what happened is what you need, then that's what you should do."

"Thanks," Sting offered him a small smile, already looking more untroubled than he had when he'd first arrived, making Rogue glad he'd offered his approval even if he understood Sting didn't need it.

They lay together in the warm water, just holding each other as the jets came to life, letting them massage their tired bodies into a state of relaxation, one that hopefully would stay with them for a while.

0-0

Even though Sting had talked to the man he was about to meet on the phone the previous day, he still felt nervous, unsure of what to expect. He'd never gone to a therapist before, although he'd never been against the idea. Ever since he was young, his father had drilled into him that healing the mind was just as critical as healing the body, and he accepted that as fact. It was one of the reasons he had so much trouble understanding Rogue's reluctance to getting help.

Despite the pain in his legs, Sting had decided to walk to Magnolia Bean, the coffee shop they'd agreed to meet at, in the hopes it would help him organize his thoughts so he didn't sound like a raving lunatic when they talked. There was so much he wanted to get out, and he knew, of course, that he wouldn't be able to get through it all in one meeting.

Arriving at the coffee shop sooner than he would have liked, he scanned the customers. Dr. Aileron had told him he'd know him the second he saw him, and Sting couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of test. No one really drew his attention. It was the usual mix of weekend shoppers, couples, and friends hanging out. A few people were sitting with their laptops open, and he focused on these first, assuming the doctor would have been working.

It was only on his second scan that Sting noticed the man who was sitting in one of the coveted armchairs, seemingly scanning the room as he sipped his oversized mug. He was older, with a bald head which was nowhere as attention-grabbing as the clothes he was wearing, a pair of striped shorts in bright hues of pink and purple, topped by what could only be described as a magenta cami with wings peeking from either side of his rather broad shoulders. Somehow Sting knew he had found his man, and all his nerves vanished, figuring someone who dressed like that probably gave precisely zero fucks about what anyone thought. He sure as hell wasn't going to judge.

He walked straight up to him and, with a grin, introduced himself, "Dr. Aileron? I'm Sting Eucliffe."

"Call me Bob," the man replied instantly, returning his smile, "and of course you are, you're the spitting image of your father! How is old Weisslogia doing?"

"Pretty good, working hard as always, he's been volunteering long hours at the clinic," Sting responded, trying to decide whether he wanted coffee or not as he examined the long line.

"Ah yes, the clinic, I did some volunteering there myself some years ago," Bob peered at him with a smile, "Sit down, sit down!"

Sting sat in the chair across from the psychiatrist, not entirely sure how he was supposed to act." Do you often see patients here?"

Bob laughed, "Well, technically you're not a patient yet, you are my friend's son, but no, I have an office nearby. I like to hold patient interviews here, though. I find meeting in a familiar place is more relaxing, a lot of people feel anxious when faced with the office. They go in expecting to see the fabled couch."

"You don't have a couch?" Sting asked, puzzled. He had to admit that was what he'd envisioned too.

"I do, and a bean bag and a lot of other things, truth be told it's kind of a circus in there." Bob waved his hand at one of the baristas to get her attention, "Karen honey, can you make my friend here a..." he looked at Sting with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhm, coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar," Sting recited, surprised by Bob's amused snort.

"A coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar, hell, add some whipped cream while you're at it and put it on my tab, "Bob finished his request, "I might as well live vicariously through you, that much sugar would probably kill me."

The woman set to work on the order immediately, making Sting wonder just how often Bob was in here.

"So Sting, son of my dear friend, what is it that brings you to me?" Bob asked, calmly taking another sip from his coffee. "I know you told me Weisslogia recommended you talk to me, but I want to assure you that anything you tell me will remain confidential. I won't be calling him to give him any reports of our sessions."

"It's okay, he already knows everything," Sting explained," he felt you'd be able to help me."

Bob smiled at that, seemingly happy that Weisslogia held so much confidence in his abilities and waited for Sting to speak.

Sting tried to figure out how to phrase everything he wanted to say, fully conscious of Bob's observing eyes. The silence was only interrupted by the appearance of Karen delivering Sting's coffee. He waited for her to return to the counter before speaking.

"Well, you see, my boyfriend was sexually assaulted by his ex while I was back home and he refuses to deal with it, he's not sleeping and -"

"Let me stop you right there," Bob leaned forward, his expression turning serious, "I'm not here for your boyfriend, I'm here for you. Therapy isn't something that can be done through middlemen, and it certainly can't be forced. If he would like to get help I would be more than happy to find some time to see him, or even both of you if you wanted to do some couples therapy, but otherwise, I want to hear about you, or at the very least about how the situation is affecting you."

"I-," Sting was at a loss for words. Could he really do that? Just talk about his own feelings while Rogue continued to struggle...His father had said something similar, but it still felt selfish on his part to be talking to someone about how all of this made him feel, shouldn't he be finding Rogue help instead? He considered the idea of couples therapy briefly but immediately knew Rogue would never agree.

"We have to take care of ourselves before we can take care of others," Bob interrupted his thoughts, "People tend to forget that."

"I just, I don't know what to do," Sting admitted, "I feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells, afraid I'm going to make things worse."

"That sounds like a very stressful way to live," Bob affirmed, "But you have to understand sexual assault is a very tricky thing, especially in regards to men. Our society imposes so many unrealistic expectations and ideas on what it means to be a man. It makes it that much harder to admit or accept that such a thing can happen to them."

"I just want to help him, but the more I try, the more distant he gets," Sting clenched his fists in frustration, "and I feel so much anger on his behalf, and guilt and I can't help but wonder… would it have happened if I hadn't left? I worry all the time, what if this is the thing that breaks us?"

His eyes turned misty at the thought, "I left everything to be with him, Bob. He's my future. I don't want to lose that, but when I look in his eyes lately… it's like no one's home."

"I sometimes forget how urgent young love is, but there's no need to fret just yet," Bob smiled kindly. "I think you'll find talking to me about what's bothering you and finding different ways to work through your emotions without burdening him with them will already help your situation immensely. Remember, this happened to him, not you. You can't make him responsible for your reactions to it."

It was such a simple idea, and it made sense. Had he been trying to do that? Sting thought about why it was so important for him to talk to Rogue about what had happened.

He had to admit that while he obviously wanted his boyfriend to start moving forward, he also couldn't discount that among other things he was looking for some kind of absolution of guilt from Rogue, and he was ashamed.

"We're all only human, Sting," Bob pointed out, "There's always room for improvement. That said, I think we have a lot to work on. How do Tuesday afternoons sound?"

"That should be fine," Sting assured him, finally taking a sip from his coffee. Just knowing he was going to have a place where he could talk about his feelings was already making him feel less stressed.

"Wonderful," Bob mumbled, pulling out his phone and making some quick notes on it. He grabbed a business card from a hidden pocket in his case and handed it to Sting, his appointment already written on it in neat handwriting.

"What if Tuesdays hadn't worked for me?" Sting chuckled.

"Well, then I would have had to do some reshuffling," Bob grinned, "Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Now tell me," Bob gazed at him intently, "Does your mother still make that heavenly strawberry rhubarb pie?"

Sting laughed out loud at the unexpected question, "She does, treat me well, and I might just put in a good word for you."

Bob gave a high pitched giggle, "Oh, you! I think we're going to get along just fine."

They spent another twenty minutes chatting about his parents and Bob's time in Edolas until his time was up. Sting left after buying some treats for Rogue, enjoying the walk home and feeling more relaxed than he had since reading the journal. He looked forward to his appointment on Tuesday.

0-0

Rogue waited for Sting to come home after his first appointment, not really sure what to expect. He hated feeling like he'd driven Sting to therapy, and he couldn't quite understand why his boyfriend seemed so comfortable with the whole thing when the mere idea of sharing his most intimate thoughts with someone made his stomach clench in discomfort.

He certainly wasn't expecting Sting to return smiling and carting takeout from their favorite restaurant.

"Hey, Babe!" Sting greeted, placing the bags on the counter and offering Rogue a quick kiss before searching for plates and utensils.

"You're in a good mood," Rogue noted, "I take it your appointment went well."

"It did," Sting beamed as he grabbed some sodas from the fridge, "I really like him, he's very easy to talk to."

Rogue grabbed the styrofoam containers from the bags, dividing the contents onto two plates. He'd been about to put them on the dining room table when Sting surprised him once again by opening the dining room's sliding door and calling out, "It's a really nice day, let's eat out here!"

Rogue followed, relieved to see Sting acting more like his usual self. "Wow, this guy must be really good," he joked as he handed one of the plates over and sat on one of the oversized deck chairs.

"Yeah, he gave me a few things to think about before next Tuesday, but I actually had a lot of fun just talking to him. Turns out, he's known my parents for a long time and had some good stories."

Rogue couldn't help but wonder if that had been part of the reason Sting's father had suggested he see him. In all his excitement at having Sting arrive, he'd completely forgotten that his boyfriend had left a lot of things behind to be with him. The familiar guilt tried to exert its influence, but he fought it off, reminding himself that Sting had done so because he'd wanted to. Because they were miserable without the other.

"Do you miss home?"

"It's only been a few weeks, but I do miss Yukino, and my parents," Sting admitted, hurrying to add, "but I don't regret moving here, I'm right where I want to be."

Rogue smiled at Sting's words, "Thank you."

"For what?" Sting asked in between bites.

"I know it hasn't been like we'd planned, but I am so glad you're here."

"Of course, it's where I belong," Sting said matter-of-factly, stretching out his hand until he found Rogue's and then lacing their fingers together.

The words were so casually spoken, but Rogue understood the love and trust they implied nonetheless, and silently made a promise to himself that he’d do his damndest to be worthy of that. 

 “It is.” 

[prisonrose]

{ Post Tenebras Lux }

Panicked footsteps echoed through the lonely mine as the boy dashed about in aimless circles. His heart was nearly thundering out of his chest as he stopped for a moment, panting. “Hello?” he cried as loudly as he could. “IS ANYONE THERE?!”

Nothing. “Mum? Dad?!”

The echoes of his frightened voice almost sounded as if it was taunting him. Blinking back his tears, he dashed off in the direction he hoped would get him out of here and once again wracked his brain for answers to his current predicament. 

All he had to do was retrace his steps, right? That’s what mom had always told him! Let’s see… He’d been with his mom and dad, taking a tour through the Macro Cosmos factory on the outskirts of Motostoke. The Chairman himself was there to greet them, and that had been so exciting! He started showing them all the different machines and explaining what they did, though, which wasn’t quite as exciting, so the boy’s mind began to wander. And then…

The boy stopped dead in his tracks, clutching at his hair in frustration as he looked around. He couldn’t even remember how he had gotten split off from the group. Something had caught his attention momentarily, though he couldn’t remember what it was. He didn’t really think he’d gone that far, but when he turned around to go back to the factory, he didn’t even know which way he had come from. 

He’d gone into this mine, hoping it was the way back to Motostoke, where at least there would be other people he could ask for help. Instead, he’d ended up wandering around aimlessly in this dark, Pokemon infested hole without a Pokemon of his own to defend him, and he was lost, and he wanted his mom and his dad and to be back at Postwick and safe!

He slumped to the ground covering his face with his hands and sobbing noisily, then pressed his small body into a secluded corner as he shivered with fear. What if no one found him this time? What if he was going to be lost forever?

“MUM! DAD!” he screamed in desperation. “SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!!!”

“... Leon?” a distant voice called. 

He froze, holding his breath with shock. “... Hello?” he called again, shakily climbing to his feet. “Is… Is someone there?!”

“Leon! Oh, thank the heavens that I found you!” The voice sounded relieved. “Stay put! Help is on the way!”

The boy spotted a shadow moving out of the corner of his eye. “No, wait! I-I think I see you! I’m on my way there!”

“Leon?! No, no, stay where you are! Don’t move!”

Too late. He’d taken off after the shadowy figure, sniffling and trying to wipe his face free of tears. In just a few minutes, he’d back home and this would all just be a memory! He’d be safe and warm and happy, and--

And that was not not a person.

He screeched to a halt so quickly that he nearly fell over, eyes wide with fear and panic. The Pokemon in front of him made a quick hairpin turn to face him, growling softly. Leon froze in place, feeling as if he couldn’t even breathe. Even when he saw its mouth glow as it prepared to attack him, he felt like his feet were rooted in place. Why… Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he run? It was as if his body had been turned to stone! It wouldn’t listen to him!

As the blistering heat built up in the Carkoal’s body, Leon slowly looked down so that his brim blocked out the sight of it and he wouldn’t have to see his gruesome demise coming. He sniffled, feeling another tear roll down his face as he waited patiently for the enraged Pokemon to end it. But then he heard frantic footsteps coming from behind him.

The Chairman yanked one of his Ultra Balls off of his belt, and tossed it out in front of him, rushing in front of the boy. “Cerys! Defend us!” he cried throwing out his hand to shield the boy from any incoming damage.

Just as the Carkoal shot a powerful volley of flame at the two of them, the Chairman’s Copperajah burst out of its ball. Rose briefly had to shield his eyes from all of the dust his Pokemon had kicked up, but thankfully his Copperajah had managed to soak up all of the damage from the attack, leaving them both unharmed. Leon blinked, his cap plopping quietly on the ground. He looked up at the massive Pokemon standing in front of him with awe. Then he turned his eyes to the Chairman standing resolutely in front of him.

Rose just ran his fingers through his hair, thankful that no one had gotten hurt other than the small amount of damage Cerys had taken from a Pokemon much weaker than her. He could have ended the battle with an Iron Head or a High Horsepower then and there, but it seemed a little excessive. The poor thing had just been startled, after all.

“Here,” he called out to the wild Pokemon, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a toy with a bell attached to the end that Olga enjoyed playing with every now and then. He’d have to get her a new one sometime soon. “Go fetch.”

The Carkoal’s eyes went wide as Rose flung the jingling toy further down the long corridor. It let out a soft noise in delight, chasing after it as quickly as its wheels could take it. Rose sighed, stroking his Copperajah’s haunches. “How are you, girl?” he asked softly, looking over where the move struck her.

She rumbled quietly, turning so that she could gently wrap her powerful trunk around his waist and pull him in for a cuddle. 

Rose laughed softly, patting her trunk reassuringly. “It’s alright, darling, we’re both unharmed. There, there…” She really was quite protective and motherly towards him. He patted her one last time and went to address the young boy still looking up at him, completely awestruck. His face was a mess, smudged with dirt and awash with tears, so Rose took out his handkerchief and got down on one knee to wipe all the grime away. 

“You had us all very worried,” he hummed quietly. “I’m so glad to know that you’re alright…”

“I… I’m sorry…” Leon sniffled. “I didn’t mean to be a bother… I didn’t mean to wander off! Mum says there’s… something wrong with me. I get lost really easily, and it drives her mad. ”

“I’m sure that’s very frustrating,” Rose murmured, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket once most of the muck was wiped away. “And very scary, too. But just because you’re made differently, it doesn’t mean that you have to let your disability define you. I happen to think you show quite a bit of promise as a potential trainer.”

Leon’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “M-Me?!” he cried incredulously. “You have to be joking! I don’t even know how I got here, and if you hadn’t saved me from that monster, I would have been burned to a crisp!”

“I promise I’m being quite sincere,” Rose replied, rising back to his feet and brushing the dirt from his fancy trousers. “Look where you are, Leon. You came here all by yourself. Through the tall grass of Route 3, and down into the very depths of this place. No adults… Not even a companion Pokemon by your side. The only time you landed yourself in any trouble is when you ran into that Carkoal in a rush, seeking me out. That suggests that you have very shrewd judgement, a natural affinity for befriending Pokemon, and a knack for getting yourself out of sticky situations. I happen to think those are all very admirable qualities.”

Leon looked up at him with wide eyes. “You… You really think so? Most of the kids call me dense, and most adults just think I’m just pretending to get lost, but… But I’m really not! I really try!”

Rose fondly ruffled the kid’s short, purple hair. “I’m certain that you do. You just need some help compensating for the qualities that you lack, but the same can be said for everyone else. Why, I bet that with the right partner by your side, the possibilities for you could be endless.”

The Copperajah lumbered over and nuzzled Leon gently with her trunk, almost cooing softly. Rose laughed, patting her. “See? Even Cerys agrees! You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, Mr. Leon.”

Leon blushed slightly, reaching down to pick up his cap off of the ground and pulling the brim of it down over his eyes with embarrassment. “Th… Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Rose smiled at him, and patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome… Now! How would you feel about getting to ride old Cerys out of here?”

“REALLY?!” Leon shouted with excitement. “You really mean it?!” 

“Of course I do,” Rose laughed, helping the boy step onto her trunk so that she could lift him onto her back. “Let’s go put your poor mother and father’s hearts at ease. Come, Cerys, this way!”

-- A few days later --

“Lee!” his mother shouted from downstairs.

Leon blinked, pausing his game of Tetris, and looking up from his screen. “Yeah, Mum? What is it?” he called.

“Did you order something off the telly without telling us about it?”

“No???” he called back.

“Well, there’s a package here from Macro Cosmos here with your name on it!”

His eyes widened as he tossed his controller aside and raced downstairs as fast as his legs could take him. “Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!!!” he squealed.

“Hold on,” she chastised, using a kitchen knife to open it. “... What on earth?” 

Inside, there was a portable incubator with detailed instructions and in egg inside. It also came with an ultra ball housed inside of the incubator and a trainer starter kit of Pokeballs, potions, various status healing tonics, and a blank League Card for Leon to one day print his photo on. There was also a letter on it, autographed by Chairman Rose himself.

Leon,

Sorry it took me so long to reach out to you. When your mother told me your favorite Pokemon, I knew I had quite a project on my hands! So I got in contact with some breeder friends, and we managed to get you your very own Charmander egg! Congratulations! We even managed to imbue it with a prototype technology that we’re coming out with in the next few years. 

This particular breed comes from a long, proud line that has rescued people in mountainous areas during blizzards and avalanches for centuries. Its excellent sense of direction will ensure that no matter where you are, as long as you have your partner by your side, you’ll be able to find your way back. I’m sure it will be a very loyal and helpful friend.

I know that you still have a few more years before you’re eligible to begin your Gym Challenge proper, but it’s never too early to begin your journey as a Pokemon Trainer. The other sheet of paper that’s attached is my official endorsement for you once you have your tenth birthday. Good luck, and I’m rooting for you.

Chairman Dhimani Rose Macro Cosmos Corp. CEO

[crewhonk]

Of The Line (6)

Summary: The team meet Vision, Giovanna and YN talk boys, Pietro introduces himself

Words: 3.8K

AN: PLEASE, PLEASE COMMENT AND LIKE AND REBLOG OUR WORK! We’re getting a little discouraged due to the recent lack of notes on this series!

Till The End Masterlist / Of The Line Masterlist

_____________________________________

The next morning, YN woke to the sound of Natasha in the shower and Giovanna rustling restlessly in the bed next to her. She was groaning at the prospect of getting up and just as YN threw back the sheets to rise, Giovanna grunted and threw her arm over YN’s waist, not letting her leave to get ready for the day.

“Dude, we gotta get up.” YN laughed and Giovanna huffed, not saying anything. “We have to get ready to go back home— we have shit to do.”

“You are really not great to wake up to, you know that?” Giovanna grumbled and fell onto her back, throwing her arms dramatically over her face to block out the light.

“Oh yeah? And who would you want to wake up next to? Carter Baizen?” YN teased and sat up, hunching her back before straightening it and letting her spine crack.

“Someone who looks similar,” Giovanna mumbled. They hadn’t spoken about their Visions as fo yet, but there was something that told YN that it was about this similar looking guy. YN walked over to her duffel and pulled out a long sleeve, throwing it on and running her hands through her hair.

“Lance Tucker?”

“Very funny.”

“Dayton White?”

“Oh, I forgot about him.”

“How could you? You walked about fucking him in his racer for at least a month.” YN grinned, wiping the leftover mascara off of her face in the vanity mirror.

“True, but no.”

“Gio?” YN said, pulling a sound from Giovanna. “Was your vision about Bucky?”

The stretch of silence answered her question and YN could feel her heartbreak for her friend. This case had pulled Giovanna away from everything, and she could see the stress of finding Steve’s best friend in her behaviours.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” YN asked.

“No.”

“Do you wanna hear about what I did last night?”

“What did you do last night?”

“Steve almost kissed me.”

“WHAT.” __________________

“This is a big mission. We need everyone exactly where they’re needed, and for you and Giovanna that is at the compound preparing for the package.” Steve reprimanded the impatient YN who had actually stomped her foot when he said she and Giovanna were to return to the tower with Bruce.

“Come on, Steve. You and I both know you need all hands on deck.” She whined, and he had half a mind to smile at her adoringly. Instead, he furrowed his brows even more and crossed his arms.

“We need all the best hands. You two haven’t gotten the proper training for something like this, and we would all be able to focus on the task at hand if I know— we all know that you’re home safe.” YN caught the slip-up, and she turned her head to avoid showing him the natural flush of her cheeks. They had yet to talk about the night before, but something between the two people had changed. There was no change in behaviours, but even Bruce had picked up on how they seemed to be dancing around each other almost playfully.

“Don’t use your captain voice on me.” She surpassed a grin, trying her damn best to keep her pout going for as long as possible— anything to make him keep looking at her the way he was now.

“Guess what?”

“What.”

“I’m using my captain voice on you. Go home. Stay safe. Get ready for us to get there.” YN broke the act, laughing lightly and looking up at him through her lashes.

“What’s in it for me?” She asked, rocking back on her heels and then her toes. He looked at her fondly, eyes dropping to her lips and blushing when he met hers again— the satisfaction of her affect on him completely apparent.

“Satisfaction of a job well done?”

“Do better.”

“I’ll stop waking you up for morning runs?”

“Stop waking me /and/ Giovanna up for morning runs and you got a deal.”

“Less grumpy kids for me to deal with the better. Fine. Go home.”

“See you there.”

He really liked the idea of going home to her.

_____________________

Nat had gone missing— taken by Ultron in his haste to have something to hold over the teams' heads— a sense of immunity, as Tony had called it.

Giovanna and YN had called it bullshit as they stomped anxiously and angrily around the lab, slamming tools into place and glaring at anything that had chosen to breathe the wrong way. They had stayed close to each other, and YN tried not to show just how horrified of the situation she was. This— this had been a part of the Witches Vision. Everyone whether willingly or unwillingly was going to leave her and it was wholly out of her power.

Just as her heart rate and breaths began to pick up, Giovanna placed a hand on her back. The weight of it calming YN.

“She’s going to be okay. We would know if something happened.” Giovanna whispered, reaching around to grab a wrench from he desk YN was leaning on. “We’re going to be okay.”

YN turned, then and saw her dad and uncle talking low in the doorway. Clint on top of the package they had just received (containing a red and silver humanoid robot in it) trying his very best to jam his fingers in any crevice to open it. Saw her best friend there, too, smiling at her despite her eyes filled to the bring with anxiety. Even JARVIS had made a surprise return— protocols, personality, even the command Giovanna and YN created which made JARVIS play “Cheerleader” by OMNI whenever they had done something right and cheered for their project success.

Things were going to be okay.

____________________

Things were most certainly not going to be okay.

“Our dads are crazy. They’re actually psychotic.” YN whispered from the other side of the glass wall in the lab. She was pouring over her notes she had made when she was nineteen, trying to find a flaw in their plan— anything that would stop Tony and Bruce from making the same mistake.

“Where do you think we get it from?” Giovanna sighed, pulling on a new suit arm prototype— a stealth weapon, apparently, despite the many wires currently exposed. Giovanna pointed a finger at a dartboard they had set up and shot a small, single blast at it, hitting the bullseye. At Giovanna’s ‘whoop’, “Cheerleader”  began to play.

YN and Giovanna laughed and thanked JARVIS.

“Anytime, ladies.” He replied.

Their celebrations as caught short, however, when three shadows entered the lab in the low lighting. The middle man was Steve, YN knew that easily, but the two people following him made a cry erupt from YN’s mouth.

“YN what— are you okay? Oh, holy Christ on a cracker.”

The twins flanked Steve, both looking nervous, both looking cautious, both looking exponentially scared at the sight of Tony standing over the coffin-shaped package. YN and Giovanna rushed out of their half of the lab, shoving the doors open and meeting Steve’s hard glare head-on.

“Did you two have any hand in this?” He growled, pointing a finger at both of them. The Dads made sounds of protests and moved to stand in front of their daughters before they could respond.

“Hell no! You know we’ve never fucked with AI, Steve.” Giovanna protested. “We stepped away the second they even started mentioning it.”

Steve looked to YN and she nodded, confirming Giovanna’s story and leather notebook in hand. The boy twin had yet to take his eyes off of her, and she shifted her weight at the intensity of his stare. She had showered and simply put on leggings and a hoodie, hair swept into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and she didn’t like anyone but Giovanna, her father and Natasha see her like this, let alone the man of her dreams and a stranger particularly keen on gaining her attention.

“I would never, but—“ She stared, tearing her eyes away from the silver-haired man. She looked at her dad and held up her notebook. “I was trying to find an issue with this plan of yours, and the only one I could find was that his personality would be pre-developed. There’s no way of manipulating or controlling his behaviour after you do this— he won’t be taught like a puppy or a kid— he’ll already have his own beliefs and his own opinions separate from that of us or JARVIS. There are too many unknowns in his psychology that it’s too much of a risk.” She explained.

“So, physically he’ll be perfect, but mentally he’ll be a wild card.” Tony hummed, crossing his arms and looking down at the humanoid. “He’ll fit right in.”

“Dad, no. This is out of your control. How can you but a shield around the world when you keep introducing new elements we don’t know how to control.” Giovanna stepped forward and placed a fist on her hip.

“This is the shield.” He replied, mimicking her posture and standing closer. YN averted her gaze, having been in the middle of far too many Stark Battles to know to get involved.

“Shut it down.” Steve snarled once more and YN pressed her thighs together in an attempt to stop any form of her body betraying her. Damn, she loved it when he was angry.

“You don't know what you're doing.”

“And you do? She's not in your head?” Bruce said, pushing YN behind him protectively. No way was he going to let this witch hurt his girl again. YN made to make a sound of protest when he took another step.

“I know you're angry.” The girls' voice was high-pitched and heavily accented, and YN’s heart broke. Jesus, they were just kids— this wasn’t their fault.

“Oh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.” YN had never seen her dad this angry and not even show a remote sign of the green tinge in his skin. He was perfectly sober and perfectly angry and YN was perfectly afraid. Her grip was strong on his arm and his head twitched in her direction, acknowledging that he knew she was there.

“Dad, she’s young. She’s a product of circumstance.” Bruce grunted and YN squeezed her eyes before pulling the card she never showed. “I’m a product of circumstance. I’m only this good because I had a great teacher. She didn’t.”

“Banner, after everything that's happened—“ Steve tried to reason and YN could have facepalmed right then and there— he had to do his hero resining right now. Just as she had managed to get her dad to loosen up just the slightest.

“That's nothing compared to what's coming!” Tony shouted.

"You don't know what's in there!” The girl screamed back, fear making her hands shake. God, this was shattering YN, and by the looks of it, Giovanna felt similarly to her.

“This isn’t a game!”

“The creature—“

And then, in a sudden flash of speed and silver, the whole of the lab was destroyed. The silver-haired twin looked anxious but satisfied as he glared at the Bruce and Tony.

“No, no. Go on. You were saying?” He asked, accent thicker than his sisters. His eyes shot to YN and he winked, making YN drop her eyes nervously and Steve bristle. Damn it, it was hard to be on this kids side.

Then, much to Steve’s satisfaction and the redhead's horror, the glass shattered under his feet, sending him plummeting eight feet to the floor below. Clint stood there, staring down at him as the girl ran tot he edge of the hole Clint had just shot through.

“Pietro!” She cried, and YN looked towards the boy who was groaning on his back. Yeah, he seemed like a Pietro. Tony whipped to the control panel, moving to reroute the upload just as Steve threw his shield at the wall beside him. Tony as quick, however, and he pressed the button on his wrist, making his watch transform into a blaster and shooting Steve nine feet away from him.

“Steve!” YN cried, running from her fathers' protection and kneeling beside Steve who had a burn over his right shoulder. YN moved to touch it but hesitated and instead grasped Steve’s arm with one hand and guiding his face to look at her with the other.

“Hi, by the way.” He muttered teeth clenched at the pain he was feeling through the burn.

“You’re an idiot,” YN said, shaking her head and helping him up. He stumbled a little into her at the force of her pull and she looked up to him, his eyes already on her face. She was flashed back then, to the night previous— his hands on her waist, his lips brushing hers, promises of never leaving.

YN took a step away, then, needing to stay focused on the situation unfolding in front of them.

It wasn’t a huge deal, anyway, as Thor had appeared suddenly, jumped up on the casket and pulled his hammer to slam on the window just above the Humanoid’s forehead. Lighting surged through the room, and Steve turned, shielding YN from the blast with his own, and she pressed her forehead into his neck, bracing herself and most definitely not noticing how Steve smelled like subtle cologne and summer warmth.

The lights stopped flickering, and it took a second for the backup generators to kick in, plunging the team into silence and tension as they waited for something to happen. And happen it did.

The casket burst open and the man flew out of it, ending on the floor in front of them.

He was taller than YN had expected as she peeked from her place in Steve’s neck. Broad and lined with something resembling muscle. He had fingers, but no toes, and a bright yellow stone glimmering in the centre of his forehead. He looked around at them all, eyes frightened like a scared deer in headlights. He jumped at Thor, but Thor was quick to act, throwing him further across the room where he slid to a stop in front of the window, looking at himself.

YN could almost hear Giovanna say ‘me too, honestly.’

The rest of the team ran after him, and but he time they got there, the humanoid had morphed an outfit of grey and a cape very similar to Thor’s own. YN ran up the stairs and stopped to watch carefully as the creature moved towards them, less frightened but still cautious.

Few things had been explained in rapid succession following this birth.

The Vision, as Thor had named him, had a gem in his head apparently called an Infinity Stone. The yellow stone was of six— mind (the one in Visions head), time, soul, power, reality (which apparently wasn’t really much of stone at all) and space. Each of these stones could level a galaxy alone, but combined, they could destroy the universe.

“So why does this guy have a stone? Why don’t we destroy it?” YN asked, gesturing to The Vision vaguely. Thor shook his head.

“They cannot be destroyed— it was them who allowed for the Universe to be created and if one of them were destroyed, it would subsequently end.” He explained, and YN could hear Giovanna mutter quietly to herself (‘cool, cool, cool, cool, no doubt’) nervously.

“Okay, why is the stone in this guys forehead and not in a vault somewhere?” She asked.

“Having me here with you all is 98% safer than even the safest, highest guarded structure in the galaxy.” YN shot him a look— he was just born, what the hell did he know.

“Also, why does your "vision" sound like JARVIS?” Steve asked and it hadn’t been until then that she realized he was very much right. Steve walked up beside her, arms crossed (again) and staring both Vision and Thor down.

“We reconfigured JARVIS' matrix to create something new.” Tony piped up, and Steve huffed a sigh.

“I think I’ve almost had my fair share of new.” He muttered to YN who smiled up at him.

“Almost?” She asked quietly as the rest of the team continued to talk. Giovanna caught YN’s eye from over Steve’s shoulder and made a circle with two-fingered and slid one in and out of the hole. YN glared her quickly and missed the way Steve looked her up and down.

“Almost.”

“I looked in your head and saw annihilation,” Wanda growled and Vision looked to her, seemingly shocked for some reason at the sight of her standing up to him.

"Look again.” He murmured gently.

“Yeah. Her seal of approval means jack to me.” Clint glared.

“Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone, and they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side—“ Thor cut himself off with a shrug and YN hated how smart and logical he could be in the scariest of situations. Admired it— but damn, it annoyed her. Any under pressure, both her and Giovanna threw plans out of the window and wung it (much tot he distress of almost everyone in the tower).

“Is it? Are you? On our side?”

“I am on the side of life. Ultron isn't, he will end it all.” Vision replied.

“What's he waiting for?”

Vision looked at Tony and there was a pause. “You.”

“Where?” Her father sounded weak, and tired and aged. YN would have moved to hug him, but she stood beside Steve, rooted in place— not only because she liked the way his arm brushed hers, or their fingers almost touched three times already, but because if she tried to walk, her knees would actually give out.

“Sokovia. He's got Nat there too.” Clint announced, and the team whipped their heads to him.

“Natasha’s alive?” Giovanna whimpered, and YN’s breath seemed to leave her whole body in one ‘whoosh’. Steve’s hand hovered over the small of her back, ready to catch her if she fell.

“If we're wrong about you if you're the monster that Ultron made you be—“ Bruce’s voice wavered.

“What will you do— oh,” Vision seemed to realize that the teams ere still fearful— still raring to defend each other against this new intruder. Even the twins seemed to be a little more guarded by Steve. “I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go.”

And in one sweeping motion, Vision swept to pick up Thor's hammer and walked out.

____________________

“I never did catch your name.” A voice piped up from behind YN, and she looked up from her guns and batons and harnesses to see the familiar sight of silver hair and cocksure smile. He walked over with a pair of new sneakers hanging from one hand, the other shoved into his pocket.

“YN. YN Banner.” She replied, smiling despite herself. “Sorry for punching you earlier this week.” She said, squinting at him.

He only shrugged. “I liked it.” And then he smiled and winked and YN felt her fingertips warm. He truly was a gorgeous man.

“You did?” She giggled and he leaned against the table, watching her pack her things in their places and strapping her uniform together.

“Not really, but someone as pretty as you paying any attention to a street cat like me? I’ll take it.” He murmured and she looked up, rosy cheeks and hot ears.

“Ain’t you just a smooth mother fucker.” She hummed, and zipped her jacket up to her neck and swept her hair into a tight ponytail. She shouldered her duffel back and he followed her out of the armoury, strutting beside her lightly.

“Only when I have a girl to impress.” He joked and she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, who would that be?” She played along as she entered the hangar walking to the quinjet that was fired up for them. He sped up, turning around and walking backwards so he could smile at her. She surveyed the room, seeing Giovanna and Tony talking about their suits and the new AI he had activated, Clint with Wanda seemingly talking sternly. She saw Thor and her dad talking and watching the agents load up the jet for them. Then, Steve, who saw the way that Pietro was looking at her and the way YN flirted back easily with a bright smile. Steve, who frowned and stormed into the jet. Steve, who much to the thrill of Giovanna, was amazingly, epically jealous.

“Here’s your comm,” Giovanna walked up to the pair of them, tight under-suit showing off her beautiful, tiny, strong body. She handed them the small tech pieces.

“I should go and see my sister,” Pietro said when he realized Giovanna was staring hard at YN. He had a sister, he knew that look. He turned, and YN tilted her head watching him go.

“You have a Steve, you know.” She said and YN rolled her eyes. “He’s super jealous.”

“He is not!” YN shot back, stuffing the comm in her ear and turning it on to make sure it was functioning.

“Is too. He’s pouting in the jet if you want to see it for yourself.” She replied, walking beside her and up the ramp. YN tried her best not to look up at the driver's seat— she didn’t want to give Giovanna the satisfaction.

“He won’t do anything about it though,” YN whispered, and Giovanna groaned in annoyance.

“Are you kidding me? He literally tried to kiss you last night.” She pulled on her Iron Suit censors over her ankles, waist, and wrists looking up at YN as she tied the laces on her boots.

“Yeah,” YN said, mimicking her and tightening up her own combat boots. “But he won’t try anything like that again. We were tired and emotional and it showed. It’s nice to have someone openly calling you pretty and making me feel more than a pining teenager.” YN whispered back, eyes darting over to Steve to make sure he wasn’t listening. He gave no indication of hearing anything if he was.

“I know, Bun.” Giovanna hummed and kissed her temple.

“I just want to get dicked.”

“I know, Bun.”

__________________________

Taglist (must reblog at least three chapters, send an ask to be added): buckybarneshairpullingkink / staringmoony / through-the-crevices / highladyofasgard / @i-am-always-famished / @filia-sapientiae / @somekryptonitewriting / @fashionlive15 / @godlymissbalor / @fanfictionjunkie1112 / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @songforhema / @army-crawl-andersen / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @shynara51 / @deathofmissjackson / @a–1–1–3 / @liffydaze / @shymarvelfannanni / @freakpotterfan / @callie-bear15 / @sunflower-borhap-boys / @criedwolfwritings / @vxidnik / @captainomad / @lazinessisalliknow / jjlevin / @gwlaxygirl / liaswhorable

[namjoonchronicles]

parenting | sj

↳ genre fluff, domestic au, dad-to-be seokjin

↳ words 3.6k

↳ summary Duties of a wife, duties of a husband. The millennial are not only the most intelligent generation, their sense of independence  intrude the traditional rules of union, family and parenthood. With the pinning occupation and demands from the baby-boomer generation, can you and husband, pull through?

↳ warning that side of adulthood, mentions of abortion, construed perception of marriage and having kids, seokjin as a husband, yup that’s it

↳ namjoonchronicles’ honorary tag list @kai-tashi @septemberalien @joon94net @yourlocalalien @snugglemejeon (i caught you haha) @yoongiseesaw with love and affections the universe can offer <3

↳ special thanks to @fangirlaholicxx and @majestikblue for being an amazing addition to my life, for loving the shits I wrote and for having much patient for this troubled soul *cringe*

↳ song natalie taylor ‘surrender’

It begins to drizzle. You watched the raindrops starting to taint the otherwise clear window of the train you frequently took to go home. He was right, you smiled. Maybe you should have listened. You already know he would start nagging the moment you step out of the train and the thought was not as repulsive as you thought it would be.

A toy car came and stopped it’s quest on your shoes. Squatting, you pick them up, wondering who it might belong to. There he was, peering from behind his mother, thick lashes, fair skinned and hazel brown eyes as the orange light from the descending sun hits. The mechanic creaking from the trains rusting parts seemed to dim down at the sight of this child, barely four, you estimated. At his eye level, you pitch a big welcoming smile to gently say, “Is this yours?”

He nuzzled his forehead at his mother’s wrist, looking up at her, asking for permission if he could speak to you, or respond in any way. His mother twitches her wrist a little to tell him that it’s okay and he can answer, with a small nod and smiling down at him from her eyes. He nodded slowly, no smile, no eye contact-- he was shy. His cheeks turned bright red from having to speak to a complete stranger in a train he took with his mother to recover his toy car.

“Go get it then, and thank the kind lady,” his mother reminded him. Stern and soft at the same time, nurturing. His voice was very audible but his sincerity was loud. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean the toys to slip out of his hands. Such a lovely boy. It was a short touch. Barely a second long. But it felt natural. It felt…. Nice.

Rain pattering against the shield of the umbrella. Steps avoiding the puddle in the poorly managed road on this particular side of the city, he huffs in complete dissatisfaction. Somewhere along the platform, waiting for his wife in a padded coat and reddening nose was Kim Seokjin. Puffs of warm air escape his mouth as he shivers in place to fight the cold unforgiving weather. He protruded his lips, eyes scanning around the platform until he found an indicator, a time frame where the train is expected to arrive. He squinted hard at this, provided his poor eyesight that seems to worsen with time and age.

“Another four minutes,” he mentally noted himself. His heart beams at the thought of the food he had prepared at home for her. She’ll love it. It’s her favourite, and maybe would console her a bit after a hard day at work. His only concern is if it’s something that he couldn’t fix. You are a worry wart, and that’s what corners him to his unprecedented despair. Watching you eat became his ultimate joy. And now, it offers a new meaning. He grips tighter into the umbrella handle, anticipating the person he believes to be the one.

The train dings to arrival and as the crowd of strangers leave the coach, he craned his neck and went on tiptoes to find a pair of eyes that knows him. People are ushering out, and chatters went unnoticed. When the crowd dissolves, there she was.

You locked arms with his. Beaming smile at the tall stature of your husband, passing a brush of your lips on his. “What did I tell you…” he spoke, gently and you rolled your eyes to the side.

“Fine, fine. You’re right… you’re always right,” you stepped into the escalator before him and he stood behind you. “Say it in full, I want to hear them,” he hissed, thumbing your hip as a sign of provocation. “I’m not going to say it, and it rained when I got here, not when I left for work,” you glanced over your shoulder at him, with a sheepish smile. “It rained, regardless so say it, say Kim Seokjin is always right,” he pokes your clothed butt cheek, hovering over the shell of your ear. Despite standing behind you on a escalator to the top, he is still very much taller than you are.

“If I say it, will you stop poking my butt, you bully…” “I’m a bully?” he chucks, and, “Listen you ungrateful porridge, I went all the way to fetch you because you didn’t bring an umbrella when I had told you it’s going to rain today, and I’m the bully? You’re the biggest bully in the bully community…” “Kim Seokjin is always right,” you stepped off the escalator and Seokjin had the umbrella opened.

The umbrella failed to shield you fully, your leather pumps splattered with water at once and gawked at your supposedly romantic husband.

“Thank you for bringing tiniest umbrella of all the seventeen umbrellas we have at home… your shoulders take most of the space, Seokjin,” you shook your head, amused. “That was the plan,” he smirked at you. He took your tiny frame inside his padded coat and squeezed you closed enough to warm yourself up. “So I could do this,” an evil smile on his face. “You cheeseball,” you tattered.

Stepping into the house, you dashed towards the tissue box and began wiping Seokjin’s forehead and face.  He takes off his padded jacket and took yours off, “Blouse and slacks too, laundry day today. And then we’ll have dinner.”

In your short shorts, your legs swings underneath the table, waiting for Seokjin to bring over the pot he just reheated for you. The television is showing the news for today, and then there’s a drama right after that you both were following. Seokjin rids of his heat-resistant gloves and washed his hands again at the sink. “Just a little bit for me,” he said, giving you his back while you fill the bowls with soup. You didn’t answer and just did as told. Seokjin rations his food and doesn’t eat much. He doesn’t eat meat fats and was a fan of vegetables; broccolis in particular. He usually have them steamed and poorly salted. Ever since the family doctor told him to watch his sugary intakes, he takes his diet rather seriously.

For awhile, there’s only sound coming from the tv and steel cutleries hitting against ceramic bowls. And then you broke the silence with the story of your day.

“They didn’t update me the official date and screamed at me for not doing it in a timely manner. They also told me I should be doing the overtime because I have no commitments. It’s so unfair,” you mumbled against a spoonful of rice. Seokjin dropped his gaze from the view of your side profile and took another sip of the soup. Unfair, it is. Everyone at work was so self-centred, he had a good dash of it when he was working, too. “...But you’re not the only one who falls in the category. Others are just bullying you because the rest of the interns are great at kissing asses,” he explodes.

“Oh shit, I forgot to get coffee grind,” you cursed, and smacking your forehead. Seokjin heard it, and cleared his throat. He was nervous, but the discussion has been long overdue. “I’d like it if you stop drinking coffee,” he gave you three piece of fried mushrooms and avoided your eyes. “Why so suddenly… is this your way of telling me that I should change my diet? You’re not one to be this intrusive, so I’m going to tell you that you are being intrusive…” you defended yourself. “We are married, nothing is intrusive…” he dragged his tone.

You set the chopstick down, propped your elbows up and laced your fingers together, resting them underneath your chin, framing your feigned smile, “Oh really…”

Seokjin grabbed a glass of orange juice from the side and downed several gulps before he turned to you and told you what he found in the bathroom trash can. From the revelation, you visibly stiffen and lowered your gaze. You went back to eating your dinner.

“When were you planning to tell me?” now he laces his fingers, and leaned on one elbow, peering down at you as you sat on the dining table next to him. He pointed the remote to the tv and muted it. “How long have you been taking birth control pills?” he added, with an accusative tone. He lowered his face so he could see you, “Hmm?”

“I ran out of it a few weeks ago and didn’t restock.” “Why are you taking birth control pills?” “Because…” “We’re married for goodness sake, for five years now, why are you doing this? Do you know how many times I have to come with a reason as to why we’re not having children yet? To my parents? You don’t look like you’re planning to tell me at all.” “I was going to…” “To what? To get rid of it?”

Seokjin’s parents had been asking. They asked why they weren’t blessed with grandchildren yet. He didn’t know that you’ve been taking birth control pills. You didn’t tell him. He went behind you and checked his sperm counts and it was normal, his manhood was normal, and the doctor couldn’t pinpoint why you couldn’t get pregnant. His questions were answered when he saw the empty package of Aubra 28’s in the bin. Along with a used pregnancy stick that showed double line. Indicating a positive.

“Whether or not we’re having children is none of their concerns, Seokjin,” you finished your final bowl of rice and helped clean up. Your hands are busy, picking up dishes, storing the leftovers in a container, stocking them in the fridge, and washing the dishes while Seokjin remains seated on the dining chair. He covered his lips with his laced hands and flickered his eyes to the television screen. Whatever that was playing on them, doesn’t register in his head. Because clearly, there was a bigger discussion at hand. The pots, kitchen wares clinks against the sink, water rinsing off the foams and you set them to the side to dry, one by one.

“Do you not want to have children with me, is that what it is?”

Seokjin spoke in a whisper but loud enough for you to hear. The way his voice brittles, the way it cracks and how the words were delivered was enough to shatter your heart into pieces. He is as heartbroken as you are. Seokjin wanted to be a father. He wanted it so much. His only desire in life was to nurture another human being and be a proud dad. He even had their names, damn it. All these while, he thought that if he continues to serve his wife the right way, she will be able to conceive with a brighter set of mind and a better lifestyle. Maybe a child would help her get through day to day struggles, maybe it could strengthen the bond because without a child, marriage is incomplete.

Furthermore, it had been 5 years. What irks him the most is how you attempted to hide this from him. It made him feel like he wasn’t a part of your life. You made a decision without him. You have sabotaged the union with your selfishness.

Last plate on the dish rack. You patted your hands  dry with the washcloth, turning to face your sullen husband. The kitchen counter being the only thing separating you both. It provided you with a shield of some sort.

“That’s not what this is,” you glide your eyes to the side, folding the washcloth neatly, Well. “That’s not just what it is.”

There’s more? Seokjin pushed his chair back, walked past you in the kitchen, took a can of beer from the fridge, slam the fridge’s door and harshly spoke underneath his breath with a deadly glare directed at you, “If I’m the problem, then you should have said so.”

With every lunge of steps he took away from you, you felt the pressing need to tell you what was going through your mind. Clenching your jaws, you released your lips from your teeth and sputtered, “I’m scared.”

Seokjin’s steps halted almost instantly. His ears picks the words up, one by one and they string in his head. He blinks and the hard expression is no longer there. It softens, weakens.

“I’m scared that I won’t be able to be a good mother,” you added, and after a long pause, “I’m lacking a lot. I’m not enough. I don’t have the credibility to be a good human, how can I raise another one… and that fear has led me to hurt another person very dear to me.”

Seokjin dropped his head, swallowed a thick lump in his throat and exhaled through his nose. As if he had been holding his breath all these while. Everything pieces itself up. Your strange decision, your diversion when it comes to the topic, your aloofness when talks about creating family comes to view--they all make sense. But Seokjin has his own ego. So instead of turning his heels and embracing you like he should, he carried on walking into the bedroom.

“Please don’t bring beer inside the room that we sleep in,” you hurried to say but you were replied with a slam of the door. You dropped your head and unmute the television, in an attempt to escape your thoughts. This wasn’t healthy, and yet, he chose this. He chose to avoid confrontation by slamming the door shut.

Two sad souls, different principles, different aspirations, different needs. Finding the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders, and blaming yourself for the disastrous ordeal, you reclined on the floor next to running washing machine with your knees up and apart. You have your elbow on one knee and pressed your forehead on the heels of your hand. Frowning, you felt the sting in your eyes and tears followed suit. At the same time, your free hand caressed over your tummy. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t keep you,” you sobbed, “Mommy’s scared.”

Scared. Does she think she’s alone in this marriage? What am I then? A stone? A picture frame on the walls? This ring on my finger, isn’t it a promise? Isn’t this house built on the trust that no matter how difficult things are and will be, we are going to be right next to each other?

Seokjin fiddles his wedding band and took them off only to place them on the bedside table. He lays his head on top of his hand, over the pillow, facing away from the door. His eyes reddening from keeping them open, unable to shake the anger from his heart, spreading through his veins. Scared; he repeated in his head. Is five years not enough to build trust? How long does he have to keep them up? His assumptions are, that you were scared that he would leave you. That he will turn his back to you like your father did. That he will not be there to catch you when you fall, like your father did. Seokjin darted his eyes, drilling through the curtain, laying on his side, curled in a ball.

That’s how you found him. You shut the door behind you as gently as you can, almost tiptoed your way in and sat at the edge of the bed, your side empty. Seokjin clenched his jaws and shut his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.

You swallowed a thick gulp of saliva before anything else. Palms sweaty, and you feel every movement in your bones that you made to touch Seokjin’s shoulder, but your hand halted before it got there. Part of you was unsure if this is what you wanted, or what he wanted. “Seokjin, baby. Are you sleeping?” you asked. He doesn’t respond.

“Seokjin, sometimes I envy you….” you begin, and dropped your head with a faint smile on your lips. Faint, it was barely there. “I envy you a lot, I think that there’s nothing you couldn’t do in this world, you don’t give a shit about what people say, and just do them your way.”

“You’ve come a long way since your high school days. Where you’ve gotten bullied because you were too pretty, your over invasive father who drilled you to be better than your older brother, so the only friend you have is your mom. I used to envy that, the fact that you can be friends with your mom. I envy that you can talk to her about anything and know that she’ll always have your back, unlike mine. I got bullied in school and she told me not to look so weak,” you added an awkward chuckle. You continued to say that you grew up, misunderstanding her aloofness as her lack of care, until you recognised her strength. She always had herself to fight, standing on her own two feet and how she was heavily reliant to your father. And he, in return, betrayed her trust.

“I was raised by a woman who had been abused her whole life, and in the shreds of whatever that’s left, she attempted to raise me. I compare myself to her. I know it was a foolish move but if I can’t be as great as she was, what makes you think I’ll be a great mother?”

Your situation were different from Seokjin’s. Financially, emotionally, physically. Seokjin could change schools when he was bullied. Seokjin could ask his mother for comfort. Seokjin could rely on someone while he is growing up. You on the other hand, was raised to be a soldier, and marriage is a spectacle, fundamentally to be avoided at all cost. Love, romance, sex; none of it signifies loyalty. Loyalty takes years to built, and seconds to destroy--just like trust. That was the house you lived in.

“I envy you Seokjin… because you could be a great dad but I couldn’t be a good mom.”

“I’m not blaming you for not being able to accept the person that I am, because we had been talking about this for years, now,” your chest heaves as you clawed your fingers on the bed sheet. “I cannot ask for more time can I?” you blinked to the view of the sheet.

“You don’t trust me…” Seokjin breaks silence, still avoiding you, “You think I’m going to walk away. That’s what hurts me the most.”

Settling fully in the middle of the bed, you knelt and Seokjin switches to his back but darted his eyes straight to the ceiling with his back of his wrist on his forehead. His eyes glimmering with impending tears.

“I registered us for a parenthood classes, I cancelled everytime you say you have your period. I bought baby clothes and kept them in the drawer so you wouldn’t see them. I got vaccination schedules from the doctor’s office in case we are conceiving but we never were, and I found positive pregnancy test in the bin next to an empty blister pack of birth control pills, can you imagine how I felt?” His tears fall and wet the pillow case but he maintains his gaze to the ceiling. You lowered your head even more.

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through quivering lips. “Why is it so wrong for me to have a child with the person I love?” his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallowed unsteadily. “Where do you think I was going to go?” Seokjin flickered his eyes at you, “It’s easier to leave me behind without a child, isn’t it?”

“Seokjin,” you wiped your eyes roughly with the back of your hand. “You are my wife… We promised each other that no matter what, we’ll make it work,” he sat and faced you. He raises his arm and cupped your cheeks, thumbing your tears. “You poor little idiot,” he gently scolded, “You think you’re the only one who is scared? I’m scared too. Having a child is scary, but with you, I think I can be brave. So I need you to be brave with me… I think you’ll be an amazing mom. No, I know, you’ll be amazing. You always have been.”

He presses his lips on yours. Wet eyelashes, messy hair, soft lips. Mascara melting, smeared lipstick, a faint hint of your Bvlgari perfume dancing around his nostril--a beautiful mess he is in love with.

“Lily…” Seokjin warned, “No.”

Seokjin brought two year old Lily to the playground in your apartment area. You decided to join them after leaving the bus station that was at the foot of your apartment. You sat on the swing next to him.

“Are you still mad?” he asked. “Definitely,” you shot with a smile straight to your baby girl.

Seokjin put his hands out of his jacket, “It was just a picture. I admit I pushed over certain boundaries, but I didn’t plan for it to happen… It was a school reunion, there will be friends who brought their sisters along…” You frowned at the sky and then at him, “No.”

“It’s nothing serious…” “These girls has your phone number, Seokjin.” “It’s nothing.” “Guess who’s banned to have ice cream on ice cream Thursday…” you swing your head in his direction and stretched your arm out, “Lily, let’s go home…”

Seokjin hurried after you, poking your waist. “I won’t do it again, I won’t. I promise, please let me have ice cream… Lily, please tell your mom to let daddy have ice creams…” Lily begins babbling almost immediately and you sputtered a chuckle. Then she hooked one arm around his neck and another around yours. It’s a signal for: Make up, already. Sometimes, having a handsome husband is a problem. A huge problem.

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copyright © 2019 namjoonchronicles do not repost, tell me how the food taste :) :)

[btsbangtanreacts]

BTS Reaction, Making a Romantic/Grand Gesture.

Jin

Things had been crazy for you lately. Work was hectic, things with your family had been rough, you’d been sick on and off, and you felt like there was no reprieve. Late one night you couldn’t seem to clear your mind in order to sleep, so you rang your best friend, Jin. He answered straight away.

“Can’t sleep again huh, Y/N?”

“I just feel like I don’t have enough time to do anything.  I just keep thinking about how much I’ve got to do. I mean I haven’t bought any groceries; I’ve been living off fast food for over a week, I have no clean clothes, my apartment’s a mess, I’ve got work, and family, and I can’t shake this cold that keeps coming back! How am I meant to just lie down and go to sleep?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just talk to me until I fall asleep?”. Jin stayed on the phone telling you stories about his day and telling bad dad jokes until you fell asleep.

The next day you came home from work, pausing at your front door dreading the chaos that lay inside. You opened the door and did a double take to make sure you were in the right apartment. It was spotless and the smell coming from the kitchen was incredible.

“Is that you, Y/N?”

“Jin?”, you walked into the kitchen to find Jin packaging food into containers, “What are you doing here? What is all this?”

“Laundry is done, grocery shopping done, apartment cleaned, and enough meals to last 2 weeks! I know you’ve been having a tough time so I figured I could at least take some of that off your plate.”

Without even thinking about it, you crossed the kitchen, took Jin’s face in your hands, and kissed him. Instantly your friendship was changed forever.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever do that!” Jin laughed.

Yoongi

The other members frequently mentioned how Yoongi had a crush on you, but you couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along, but he just wasn’t affectionate towards you, so it was hard to believe he looked at you as anything more than a friend. When you first met the two of you had bonded over your love of piano. Most of the time when you hung out together it was in his studio to play together or share new compositions, so it was a surprise when he asked you to meet him outside the Lotte Concert Hall to hang out.

When you arrived, you found him leaning against a wall. As soon as he saw you a small smile spread across his lips and before even saying hello, he covered your eyes and asked, “You trust me, right?”

He started to guide you down the hallway and through a door.

“Yoongi, where are we going?”

“Shhh. Almost there.”

You came to a stop, Yoongi standing with his body close behind yours, his hands still covering your eyes.

“Ready?”, he whispered into your ear. When he uncovered your eyes, you realised you were standing inside the empty concert hall. The lights were dimmed except for one light on stage illuminating a grand piano. You looked back at him completely speechless.

“Go on. Go play.” He moved to a seat a few rows back as you went to take a seat at the piano.

You got lost in the music letting the notes fill the hall. When the final notes had echoed through the room you heard Suga clapping and cheering as he moved from his seat to join you on the stage.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I had to get you to notice me somehow.” He whispered with a smile.

Hoseok

Hoseok had been home for a month-long break with his family. You missed your childhood neighbour when he was gone and always loved spending time with him when he was back.

“Don’t leave me again, Hobi. I’ll be so bored!” you sighed dramatically throwing yourself across his bed.

“That’s just because I’m the best person ever. It’s natural to miss me.”

“No, it’s because you’re my favourite person so I miss you when you’re gone. You know I used to have the BIGGEST crush on you when we were teenagers?”

“W-wait, WHAT?!”

“Oh, come on, you knew! I practically threw myself at you! You were just nice enough to let me down gently.”

Hoseok blushed and changed the topic. He had no idea that you had had a crush on him and had spent years dreaming of you.

The next day he left to go back to work. As you climbed into bed after a long boring day without your friend, you noticed that a polaroid of Hoseok was stuck to your ceiling. Grabbing it down you read the handwritten caption, “1 of 30”. You sent a picture of it to him with a question mark.

“looks like you’ve got 29 more to go. By the way you have 30 days to find them to win the prize.”

He knew you too well and knew you couldn’t turn down a prize. The competitive streak in you took over and for the next few days your furiously hunted them down, finding them in all manner of places; pockets of your favourite clothes, inside drawers, in the mailbox, behind the curtains, and even stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d last found one and you were still only up to 29.

“Hobi, please just tell me where the last one is?” you text him.

“Where’s the fun in that, Y/N? I promise the best one is last. You only have 2 days left”.

48 hours later and you were just texting Hoseok to officially give up when the doorbell rang. You opened the door to reveal Hoseok with polaroid number 30 stuck to his chest. Reading the caption, you could only smile. It simply read, “Date?”.

Namjoon

“AH!”, there was a crash from the hallway, “Y/N you really need to stop stacking your books up everywhere!”

“No Joonie, you need to be less destructive and leave my books alone!”. Your books were practically your friends. They crowded every spare surface and space in your apartment and had long since over filled your one small bookcase, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of any of them.

The following weekend you went home to visit your family, leaving Namjoon with the keys in case anything happened while you were gone. When you came home late Sunday night all the lights were on.

“Hello....?”, you cautiously called out.

“Y/N! You’re back! In here.”

Following the sounds of your friends voice you went to the living room to find the walls covered by floor to ceiling bookshelves, your precious books filling nearly every shelf. Sitting in a brand-new oversized armchair, that was perfect for reading in, was Namjoon grinning from ear to ear.

“Before you ask……no I didn’t build them myself, so they’re not going to collapse.”

You ran to him and held him in a long embrace, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heart racing.

Squeezing you tightly, Namjoon kissed the top of your head, “I’m glad you like it.”

Jimin

In the spring you moved to South Korea. It was hard to adjust at first but quickly became easier once you met your friend, Jimin. It was early in the winter and you were at the dorms hanging out with Jimin and the other members.

‘When do you think it will start snowing?”, you asked, your face pressed against the cold glass of the living room window.

“You’ve asked that 12 times in the last 30 minutes, Y/N, the answer is still the same. I. Don’t. Know.”, replied an exasperated Jin.

“Yeah well sue me for being excited, I’ve never seen snow. It’s hot where I’m from!”

You slept on the couch that night until you were gently shaken awake by Jimin.

“Chim, what the hell? It’s like 3am!”

“Shhh. Just sit up a second.”

With a groan you sat up, eyes barely open watching Jimin standing by the curtain covered window.

“Ready?” Without waiting for a reply, Jimin pulled back the curtain.

Instantly you were wide awake and staring in awe out the window, “Snow!”

“First snow of the year.”, Jimin smiled proudly.

“You woke me up just to see the snow?”

“You wanted to see snow so bad and the first snow of the year is the most magical. I just wanted it to be magical for you”, Jimin’s smile grew even bigger as his face flushed red.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He gave a small nod and started to walk out of the room. “You’re not staying with me?”

“I….d-do you want me to?”

You lifted your blanket and shifted forward on the couch giving Jimin enough room to lie down behind you. He covered both of you with the blanket and you held his hand, wrapping it around your waist. His thumb gently brushed the exposed skin of your hip between your PJ shirt and shorts.

“I can’t believe you made sure I got to see this.”

“You deserve all the magic in the world, Y/N.”

Taehyung

Being away from home for so long had been hard. People constantly told you it would get better eventually but for you it was only getting worse. Your friend, Taehyung, was at your place one evening trying to cheer you up by making all sorts of weird faces and noises.

“Tae, please stop, I’m not in the mood”.

“Aw come on, Y/N, it will be okay. I know it’s hard”, he sat down next to you and rubbed your back to try and comfort you.

“It’s not just hard. I don’t want to be here anymore. I feel so alone all the time. I just want to move back home and be closer to my family and friends again.”

Taehyung didn’t want you to move away. He couldn’t deal with the thought of not being able to see you each day. Wrapping you in his arms he let you cry out your frustrations while he came up with a plan.

One you’d fallen asleep, he covered you with a blanket and quietly slipped out to start working on his plan.

Every time you called over the next couple of days, he said he couldn’t hang out or talk, which was out of character. Feeling even more lonely and sorry for yourself you packed a bag and headed out for a weekend home. As the elevator doors opened to go downstairs, you found Taehyung just stepping out.

“Y/N! I was just coming to see you!”, his face dropped when he saw the bag in your hand, “No, no, no, you can’t leave!”, he said desperately.

He held out a tan coloured teddy bear with a heart stitched on its foot.

“A teddy? Really? Tae I’m not five.” He grabbed the bag from your hand and thrust the bear into your chest, “Squeeze it”.

“Tae…”.

“Squeeze the damn bear, Y/N”, he pleaded.

With a sigh you squeezed the bear.

“I love you, Y/N”, you immediately started crying and squeezed the bear over and over listening to the sound of your mother’s voice.

“I know I couldn’t bring her here to stay so I figured this was the next best thing. Now you can stay right? You can stay here with me?”.

“I was only going for a weekend!”, You laughed.

“Oh……”

Jungkook

You’d been texting your friend, Jungkook, all day venting about how stressful work was. All you wanted to do was the same thing you did every time you had a bad day. You wanted to go home, get into the comfiest clothes you could find, get all your favourite junk food, and curl up in bed to watch the same terrible, trashy movies you always watched to feel better.

“Come to the dorm tonight,” Jungkook texted.

“I really just want to relax tonight, but thanks anyway.”

“Not an offer. An order. Come to the dorm tonight.” A few seconds passed before a new message came through, “Please?”.

“Fine. I’ll come straight from work.”

“Oh, so that’s why JK has been pacing around for an hour, you’re here”, Yoongi said as he opened the door to you, “You know where to find him.”

Knocking softly on the door you called out, “Kookie? It’s me!”

‘Y/N! You’re here!”, he slipped his body through the ajar door and gave you a tight squeeze, “Be prepared for the best night ever!”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside letting you see his room.

“Lots of pillows on the bed, your favourite candle, all the best junk food, and the corniest movies possible ready to spend all night watching!”

“Oh, Kook! This is just what I needed, thank you!” “Here!”, Jungkook leapt forward towards the bed and picked up a careful stack of his comfiest clothes, “Go get something more comfortable on and I’ll get the first movie ready.

Stepping out of the bathroom after changing into a pair of Jungkook’s sweatpants and t-shirt, you took in a deep breath of how good the room smelled. You jumped onto the bed where Jungkook was already sitting with the blankets covering his lap. The bed was stacked with a ton of pillows and blankets, just how you liked it, and there was every snack imaginable.

“Kookie did you do this all for me?”

“Of course, I did, Y/N. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Anything?” you asked with a devilish grin.

“Anything at all for you” He said gazing into your eyes.

“Good!” you said bouncing onto the bed until you were sitting as close to him as you could without making him uncomfortable, “Cause my hands are freezing and I need somewhere to warm them up. Jungkook pulled the covers back so you could climb inside.

“Here,” he took your hands in his and slipped them up his shirt and onto his chest, his hands resting over yours holding them to his heart, “Warm?”

“So warm and toasty. You’re the best Kookie. I wish I never had to move from right here every again. I want us to stay just like this forever.”

“We could!”, JK hinted as his voice cracked. His face went bright red. “I’ll stay right here with you, just the two of us, for as long as you want me.” Nuzzling down onto his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist, you thought about it for a moment.

“I like the sound of forever with you.”

[rocket-remmy]

Side Effects May Include|| Remmy and Skylar

White Crest was an interesting town. It was small, smaller than the town Remmy had grown up in, though not by much. Besides, they visited Rock Spings a lot when Remmy was a kid (it was their dad’s favorite hunting spot), and that place was like population zero, aside from the guy that worked at the hunting shop. Probably. He was a creepy dude, and Remmy didn’t care much for him or hunting. Luckily their dad never made them go with him hunting. Remmy got to stay home and take the lamps or the microwave apart and put them all back together before their dad got back. It was like a little game. A way to pass time. But there were no cabins in White Crest that Remmy could go to and take things apart, and there were no bad memories yet. So that was like, one White Crest, zero for Rock Springs. 

White Crest felt fuller, too, somehow. It had a smaller population, but more people out doing things. It actually had that small town feeling, where it felt like everyone knew everyone else, and Remmy found themself eager to actually worm their way into that scene. To know people. They already knew the butcher on a first name basis. They bought a lot of raw meat and cow brain, even though they’d only been here a month. It was easy to tell the guy it was for Moose, but in reality, it was for Remmy. Weirdly, ever since Remmy got back from Afghanistan, they’d been craving raw, juicy meat. And brain. It was probably just a side effect of the medication, the nurse at the halfway house had said. And it would probably go away. Probably. But it hadn’t yet, so here Remmy was, back at the Butcher’s, getting their pound of raw cow brain from Al.

The bell chimed as Remmy walked out and they felt a pang in their stomach. And, god, it smelled so good. Just one bite. Just one little bite to tide them over till they got home...Reaching into the bag, they undid the container, slipping into the alley-- couldn’t be too public about it-- and plucked out a piece, taking a big bite. Oh, the satisfaction. Remmy smiled happily.

Skylar wasn’t going to deny it, moving from Seattle clear across the country had some perks. The change of scenery was great, the much lessened amount of rain was also a big bonus, and the small town nature of White Crest was cute. And she liked her job a lot. Yep, that was a big plus. But, one of the major downsides? Having to convince the local butcher that ehhhh, ten pounds of pork loin really isn’t that weird of a weekly request. As easy it would be to just hit up one of the big supermarket chains and load up a cart full of meat without question, Skylar had developed a liking for the local butcher’s stock. Oh well, he would learn eventually.

After paying for her meat, Skylar thumbed through her phone and enabled Bluetooth, syncing up with her hearing aids. Tapping on her favorite playlist, the pounding bass rumbled in her ears as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. She gathered up her groceries from where she’d set them down before heading out, giving a polite wave to the butcher as she left the shop. This pork was going to taste amazing with some adobo spices, cooked with garlic and onions-- she’d pick off those bits, of course. But she was looking forward to dinner now.

As Skylar rounded the corner, she glanced over her shoulder at the alleyway next to the butcher shop and froze. Her music continued to pound in her ears as she stared, not entirely certain what she was seeing. Uhhhhhh. “Are you… okay?” She asked, not entirely certain what to make of the person, fingers covered in what looked like blood, eating something that looked an awful lot like raw meat straight from the package. Skylar stuck her hand in her pockets, turning her music off so she could get a good look at what the fuck was happening in front of her. “That’s raw meat, what the hell are you doing?”

Remmy froze when someone’s voice drifted around them. They fumbled for a minute, looked around, then stopped when they spotted someone standing in the opening of the alleyway staring at them. “Uh…” they glanced around, put the bits back into the bag and wiped their fingers across their shirt smearing blood on it. “Shit.” Looked back at the other person. Noticed the hearing aids in her ears and paused. “Oh, sorry. I was just having a snack, you know?” they signed. Pointed to the bag. “It’s not that weird…” Gave a shrug. Their stomach grumbled a little as their eyes dropped to the bag the other person was holding. “No weirder than buying a huge chunk of meat.” Because that really was a huge chunk. If they weren’t feeding like twenty people, that thing was gonna go to waste. There’s no way one person could eat that all in a few days. 

The use of sign, which normally would be a big relief to her, did nothing to ease Skylar’s rising confusion and concern. In fact, it kinda made things worse, because now she knew she had full license to freak out without attracting any attention. She checked over her shoulder for anyone nearby before walking further into the alleyway. Gesturing emphatically, she signed, “What the fuck? No, no, that’s super weird. Do you know how many diseases and parasites you can get from eating raw… is that an organ? Are you eating raw animal organs?” An expression of disgust and shock was clearly displayed across her face as she stared at the person she’d literally caught red-handed. But, when they pointed out her own purchases, her face burned bright red. It wasn’t weird! Flustered, she signed rapidly, “That’s completely different! This is a totally normal amount of meat to buy and, besides, I’m not the one just chewing on a porkchop in a back alley! Forget the raw meat, do you know how many germs are in an alley,” She paused, grimacing to add emphasis to her next signs, “Behind a butcher shop? 

Remmy’s brow furrowed. They didn’t like confrontation, they’d always had a hard time standing up for themselves as a kid, but things had changed quite a bit once they’d entered the military. They huffed, setting the bag down after tying it closed, and signed, “Why do you care? You don’t even know me! I’ve had much worse, anyway. And that’s a normal amount of meat to buy if you’re feeding like twenty people at once!” Which, Remmy then realized, could be what they’re doing, but it still was a little weird. And Remmy was caught off guard, by someone yelling-- well, yell signing-- at them in an alley! All they wanted to do was enjoy a good bite and go home. Moose whined next to them. Remmy’d almost forgotten Moose was with them, and while they’d normally leave him behind for a quick errand down the street, they were still new to town, and leaving without him right now had seemed daunting. “Besides, it was just one little bite. It’s not like I’m back here having a whole meal.”

Skylar gaped at the other person, still not sure what to make of the whole situation. “You’ve had worse? What, are you going around eating roadkill or something? That looks like a piece of,” Skylar squinted, trying to make out the specifics of just what it was they were holding, “I don’t know. I can’t see it from here. But, it’s raw! I’m not just going to stand by and let someone eat raw meat, you’re going to get super sick.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Skylar ignored the comment about the amount of meat she’d purchased. This wasn’t about her, it was about the fact that someone was out here chowing down in the alley. But, as she moved to sign again, Skylar was suddenly aware of the dog right next to them. A very large dog. She wasn’t afraid of dogs, not really, but she didn’t have much experience around them either. Swallowing nervously, she forced herself to focus on the person again, “And you’re planning on eating… whatever that is?” 

Remmy frowned. “That’s not the point. It doesn’t matter,” they signed. They were beginning to feel that tingle in their stomach, that anxiousness gripping them from the inside. “It’s not-- that’s none of your business,” they blurted. They just wanted to go home and now some weird girl was yelling at them in an alley. A small alley. A narrow alley. Remmy looked around, picked up their bag, grabbed Moose’s leash, grip tightening. Moose whined. “Yeah? So what if I am? I’ve been eating this stuff for a while now. It’s just a side effect of all the meds I’m on. The doctor said so. They said it was fine,” they managed to sign after attaching Moose’s lead back to their belt. “So...you don’t need to worry anymore.” Nodding, as if to punctuate their statement.

Shifting the heavy bag of meat in her arms so she could sign more effectively, Skylar frowned at the person in the alley. “Maybe it isn’t my business, but,” She signed pointedly before gesturing to the nasty container of organ meat, “I’d seriously consider checking with your doctor about the specifics. I can understand wanting to eat like… liver or something like that. But, going after it all Tokyo Ghoul style? That doesn’t seem kosher.” She signed with a shrug. It didn’t seem like there was anything she could say to convince this person that what they were doing was really fricking weird. “I hope your doctor at least puts you on some different medication.” Skylar gestured, her face turning a bit grim at the thought of medicine. Back before her parents had come clean about her, she’d been on all sorts of medicine to manage her symptoms. But, they’d never had any side effects like a desire to eat raw meat.

Remmy was ready to fire back, but something stopped them. That weird anxious feeling was still rolling around inside their chest, but the anger was extinguished. “Tokyo-- what? That doesn’t…” Scratched their head. Blinked, trying to parse out what had just been said to them, but there were so many other things running through their head. “What’s...no, it’s-- it’s just cow brain,” they said, their own mind working too hard for them to remember to sign, words coming out instead. “It’s not that weird to eat. Al says it’s a delicacy in some places…” Confused, Remmy looked down at their bag. “Why would I need different medication?”

The switch over to speaking made sense, though Skylar didn’t particularly want to raise her voice if she was talking about something this strange. It was a small town, people would probably have questions if they saw her trying to convince some random person not to eat raw meat. “It’s cow brain?” She signed, making a revolted expression with her face. “That’s definitely weird to eat! And even if it is a delicacy, I’m pretty sure it needs to be cooked.” Shrugging, Skylar rubbed the back of her neck before signing again. “Because those aren’t normal side effects? I don’t know what kind of medicine you’re on and I don’t need to know. But, I’m pretty sure that there aren’t any drugs that make you want to eat raw cow parts.” Skylar let out a laugh and shook her head before speaking up, “Except for maybe bath salts. But you don’t seem like you’re going to try and eat my face.” 

Remmy blinked again. “You can cook brain?” They weren’t exactly the brightest bulb in the factory. Remmy had skated by in classes with C’s and the occasional D, another reason joining the army had seemed like such a palatable option. It was really their only option. No college was going to accept a below average student. Remmy scratched their head. “No, I...definitely don’t wanna eat your face off. I don’t uh...I don’t know a lot about medications? The VA said they were some of the better medications out there. They do cost a lot...that means they gotta be good, right?”

“I mean, I haven’t cooked brain myself, but I think you can. If people can eat liver and onions, I think you could probably do the same with a brain.” Skylar nodded, mentally wondering how she had gotten into a discussion on cooking in a sketchy back alley with a sketchier person and their dog. Letting out a sigh of relief, she sighed. “Neat, thanks.” Frowning as she read the other person’s lips, Skylar tilted her head. “VA… Oh, I’m so sorry--!” She said, wincing. Oh God. She’d just yelled at a veteran and their service dog. Christ, she felt like such a jerk now. “I had no idea, erm, I just, um… I’m not an expert or anything on medicine, so I can’t say anything there. It’s totally your choice on if you… want to eat… raw cow brains.” Skylar said, still not sure what to make of the words coming from her mouth, “But, maybe you should talk to a doctor about it? Mhm. I don’t know. I’m really sorry again.”

Remmy’s head titled a little. The girl was apologizing now. That was a weird turn of events. She was even saying Remmy was totally free to eat raw brain if that’s what they wanted. A total 360 of the beginning of the conversation. They shrugged. “Oh, no…” they signed, “it’s totally fine. I guess it uh...is kinda weird? I didn’t really think about it all that much.” They looked back over at Skylar. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. Sorry I made you freak out?” They weren’t sure if that was really their fault, but, again, Remmy didn’t like starting confrontation, or upsetting people. Moose whined a little. “Oh! Yeah, uh-- this is Moose. My service dog. He’s a sweetheart. I share my pickings with him.” They nodded to the bag the girl was holding. “What about you? Are you sharing with anyone?” A pause. “Oh and I’m Remmy by the way. We uh...we don’t have to shake hands.”

Waving her hands awkwardly, Skylar shook her head. She’d really made a mess of things, hadn’t she? She should have just minded her own business and let them go about… eating raw-- nope, no, she still wasn’t okay with it. But, she could keep it to herself. “No, no, it’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have erm, barged in on you.” She said, signing as she spoke. Glancing at the dog, Skylar offered a tight lipped smile. Even if the dog was a sweetheart, she still was a little anxious around it. “Mmm, cute. He’s very fluffy.” When they pointed out her bag of meat, Skylar grimaced and squinted as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “Erm. Yes. Just, you know, stocking up.” She said. “Remmy?” Skye asked, fingerspelling as she did so. “Nice to meet you. I’m Skylar.” She said, offering her sign name as well. It was a pretty simple one, just the sign for “sky” done with an S instead of an open hand. 

“Oh, cool,” Remmy signed, “stocking up. I wish I had a big enough fridge to do that. Or a freezer. My place is kinda ...sparsely equipped.” They shrugged again, not noticing the girl’s timid reaction to Moose. But Moose stayed put, because the situation was calm, and his wasn’t needed at the moment. Sometimes Remmy wondered what he thought about while idling, but that was the big question that everyone wanted to know-- what were their pets thinking? “Yes, Remmy,” they spelled out, confirming. “Skylar? Nice to meet you. “Sorry it’s uh...in an alley. Should we move? Go somewhere else? Unless you’re busy. This did kinda interrupt your day. Sorry, I’m pretty new in town. Haven’t met a lot of people yet. And definitely no one else who speaks fluent ASL. Though I’m no expert either.”

“Ummmm…” Skylar paused, not entirely sure if she wanted to follow this random person she’d met in a back alley behind the butcher shop. As much as she wanted to get the word out about ASL and do her best to improve awareness in White Crest… She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she tried to figure out whether or not she wanted to hang out with them. Oh hell. Surely things couldn’t get worse than their initial meeting. “I’m new in town too. Sort of. I’ve lived here for about… five or six months?” She said. “But, um, yes. We can chat in,” Skylar paused and gestured at the alley around them, “Not a back alley.” She said before walking back out to the sidewalk, making sure to give Remmy and Moose a wide berth. “There are quite a few people who sign, but I’m not surprised you haven’t met any of them.” She said, signing as she spoke.

Remmy didn’t take notice to the distance Skylar kept between them. The initial strangeness of their meeting had already slid from their mind. They were never the most socially observant, but show them a complicated system of wires and they could figure out what goes where in a second. Moose walked obediently by their side as they tugged on his lead, heading back out to the sidewalk and the public, stuffing their weird purchase farther into the bag so no one else would notice. “Cool,” they signed, “I’ve only been here a month. So...very new. My only friend is the other security guard that works night shifts, Gus. He’s old, though, and always smells like pine needles.” 

“Oh, you’re a security guard? That’s pretty neat. I’d probably be terrible at something like that.” Skylar signed as they walked through town together. She shifted her bag slightly, slinging it over her shoulder so she could sign more clearly. Even though she tried to stay in the conversation, she couldn’t help but glance at Remmy’s bag, very aware of their odd purchases. “Um, how are you liking White Crest? I’m from Seattle originally, so it was a big difference.” She signed, her eyes widening to express just how much of a change it had been.

“Yeah, just part time. The halfway house I was in helped me get the job,” Remmy signed. “Since I was injured in combat, they helped place me in a job and rehabilitate me.” Walking and signing was always hard for Remmy, having to focus on looking at a person while also focusing on not running into things or other people. They had to stop or slow down every time they started signing again, talking along with the motions, hoping Skylar could read their lips too. “It’s okay. I grew up in Wyoming, so from that it’s a stark change, but I came here from Afghanistan, which was the real shock. I like how small it is here. It reminds me of home.” A pause. “What uh-- what about you?”

“Mm.” Skylar hummed in response, not really sure what else she could say to the other person. It sounded like they had been through some… real shit. Like, stuff that she couldn’t even imagine. Just the idea of being involved in the military seemed so foreign to her. Not that she’d ever had the interest in it; she didn’t think the army had much of an interest in sign language. “Makes sense.” She signed before shrugging, “Like I said, it’s been a big change. But, I like the town for the most part. I work for the school and the administration has been really good to me so far. And the people I’ve met are nice. I just wish they had more bookstores.” She sighed wistfully. That was one of the best parts of living in a big city-- there were no shortage of bookstores and comic shops. Tower wasn’t bad, but she just wished they weren’t combined with a music store too.

“You work for the school?” Remmy repeated. “That’s cool! What do you do there?” They paused again, trying to remember the sign, their face contorting a bit. “I want to find something more….” scratched their head, “fulfilling.” They finally said out loud. “I think I’d like to be an officer someday, but they’re pretty strict on things disability wise…” They started walking again, catching pace with Skylar. “You like to read, then? I haven’t found any bookstores here yet. Sorry, that’s probably annoying to deal with. Maybe there’s one down on Amity?”

Nodding, Skylar smiled. “Yeah. I work as a sign language interpreter. I’m hard of hearing but,” She pointed to her bright blue hearing aids, “with these I can hear just as well as anyone else, with a few little quirks. So, I work with kids who need a little extra help.” She explained. Her job wasn’t exactly one that people thought about, but that didn’t make it any less important. “Like a police officer? I’m sure you could probably petition for a position or something? I mean, if you have the skills and abilities, I don’t really get why they wouldn’t let you in. But, I’m biased.” She signed with another shrug. At the mention of bookstores, Skylar nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. I like reading a lot. There’s an interesting one called The Archive, but it’s a little creepy. I don’t know what it is about the place, it’s just kinda old and weird?” She signed, making a face as she did so.

Remmy perked up a bit. “Oh, that’s so cool!” They motioned to the device on their own ear. “I’ve got one, too. I’m just deaf on the one side, though. Places that have a lot of noise can get rough though,” they said. “I end up turning mine off a lot.” A shrug. Sometimes the silence felt nicer than hearing everything, all the time. Remmy looked back over at Skylar, noticing them brighten at the mention of books again. Remmy couldn’t help but smile. “Creepy? How so?” A pause. “Oh, wait, you just said you didn’t...That’s weird. Maybe it’s just cause it’s old? I went into an old like antique shop once down on Amity and it wigged me out real bad. All those kinds of places do, you know?” Another shrug, more nonchalant this time. Remmy smiled again. They couldn’t help but feel happy. They were talking to someone. And possibly making a friend. They weren’t sure, but the warm feeling in their chest told them that right now, they were completely safe. And that was...hard to come by these days. “Maybe I could go with you to the bookstore sometime. It might be less creepy with someone with you. Plus, I need to pick up a book. Anna Karina? Someone online told me to read it.”

Eyes widening, Skylar blinked in surprise. “I didn’t see that, I’m sorry!” She signed, face turning burning hotly with embarrassment. She should have picked up on that sooner. How had she missed that? “I can relate to that, though. I don’t wear mine when I’m at home. They just get uncomfortable sometimes.” She watched as Remmy continued to sign, but took note of the smile. The fact that they were smiling was good; hopefully they had forgotten about her being such a jerk to them in the alley way. Even if they were acting super wei-- Nope. No, she wasn’t going to call Remmy weird. People could do what they liked, and if that was… eating… raw cow brain, so be it. Pulling a face at the idea of going around an antique shop, Skylar signed back, “I can only imagine. Antiques are definitely creepy.” Skylar’s fingers paused their usual fidgeting at Remmy’s offer. “Are you sure? You don’t need to, it’s probably nothing. But, I wouldn’t mind the company at all. And, I could help you find that book.” She signed, expression hopeful. Being able to sign with someone who was near her level was a breath of fresh air and she really wanted to keep Remmy around. If they wanted to be there, of course.

“No, yeah, totally!” Remmy immediately signed back. “I’d love to!” They stopped, a little embarrassed of their sudden response, scratching the back of their head. “Sorry. I don’t wanna seem desperate. I haven’t met a lot of people since moving here yet. It’s been kinda lonely. Even with Moose.” They gave him a little pat, and Moose sniffed the air a second before returning to his on duty posture. “He’s my service dog, so it’s nice having him around, but I miss living in a community. I mean...this place is nice, it’s even a small town, but I just don’t know anyone yet.” And it was a strange feeling, Remmy noted, that they could be so alone. For the past five years their best friends had been the privates training alongside them to become EOD members. And then they’d all been together on that plane to Afghanistan. And they’d all been together during that first raid and every raid after. And now they were...Moose licked their hand and Remmy blinked, noticing a new wetness to their eyes. Trying to hide it, they smiled over at Skylar again. “I work nights, so I can go to the bookstore anytime, just let me know when you wanna go.”

Skylar watched intently as Remmy signed quickly and then explained why they had reacted like that. Her heart went out to them, honestly, it did. She could relate to them in some small way. Maybe not with their broader experiences, but she knew what it was like to move to White Crest from someplace totally different and not have anyone you knew. She’d lucked out with her roommate, but if she hadn’t… “No, don’t worry. Trust me, the feeling is mutual. It’s nice to meet someone who gets sign and like,” She gestured to her hearing aids one more, “Gets it? You know?” Nodding, Skylar bit her lip before holding her hand up for Remmy to wait. She looked up the street before jogging down the sidewalk towards one of the fliers for sign lessons that she’d posted. Tearing off one of the untouched tabs, she hurried back towards Remmy and Moose and held out the scrap of paper. “I’m done with work when the high school gets out, so I’m free most days after 3. Sometimes I have meetings, but if you wanted to text me, you can.” She said with a tentative smile.

“I get that,” Remmy signed back, “I definitely get that.” They paused when Skylar held up her hand, curious for a moment, watching her job over to a sign board and pull off a slip of paper. Still confused, they watched as Skylar came jogging back, and it was only when Skylar was holding out the slip of paper to them that they realized what it was-- her number. Remmy took the slip and smiled. “Thanks. Sorry, I don’t have one to give back, but I promise I’ll let you know it’s me when I text.” It was a simple gesture, but Remmy always found that the simple or small gestures were the ones that really added up after time. They pocketed the slip and patted it, as if making sure it really was there and that this was real. “I’ll uh-- I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. You should probably get that meat in the fridge before it goes bad.”

“No problem!” She said with a bright grin, suddenly quite happy at the prospect of having someone who she could sign with. Maybe even a friend? Not that Skylar didn’t like her coworkers, but they weren’t exactly her friends. And Remmy seemed like good people, even if their dog kind of squicked her out. “Ah, yeah,” She glanced at the bag on her shoulder with a slight grimace. Skylar began to head down the street in the direction of her apartment, walking backwards as she signed. “It was nice meeting you, Remmy. And you too, Moose.” She signed before turning around. They might have met under the weirdest circumstances, but she was looking forward to having a new friend.

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Redemption Deleted Scene 3

Here we see some more changes that occurred in the process of writing! Yeah, Gadreel’s still not here. Also, this is where I was still figuring out if Gabriel/Tony and Steve would be a thing because at this point I was at Point M and hadn’t yet gotten through Point D (or something like that). There’s a lot going on in the middle that influenced how things played out!!

Comment? :P

Redemption Deleted Scene 1

Redemption Deleted Scene 2

Redemption Deleted Scene 4

Redemption Deleted Scene 5

**

(Read more for mobile users)

Steve and Jarvis were slower in following, but only by a second. They were on his heels as Gabriel exited his room and ran to the source.

No, no, no, no, no. Why was this happening?

They didn’t have wards against angels.

And even then it didn’t block angels from entering dreams, as Lucifer so clearly had here.

Oh, Sam…

Gabriel almost collided into Dean as he left his bedroom, gun in his hand. He didn’t give Dean a second glance, skirting around him and to Sam’s door, pushing it open with a force that almost tore it off its hinges.

“Cover your eyes!” Gabriel shouted, gesturing back at the others.

Lucifer’s light filled every inch of the bedroom, but it was collapsing inward to a familiar human shape.

Gabriel reached for a knife, cutting into his arm and painting the familiar banishing symbol on the wall, only this time he added a personal touch to it: Lucifer’s name.

He didn’t finish it, a small part of him telling him to wait even as the rest of him begged to leave.

When the light coalesced into the figure standing in the room, the body of Sam Winchester remained, although there was nothing human about the way the being currently inside was stretching the muscles.

Lucifer gave a stricken Gabriel a lazy smile. “Ah, Gabriel.”

And that was all she wrote. Gabriel slammed his hand down on the middle of the banishing symbol, Lucifer vanishing in a flare of Grace and an enraged cry.

Gabriel felt Raphael leave, but he paid more attention to the shell-shocked hunter standing behind him. “Dean—”

He was slammed into the wall a second later by an enraged Dean. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

Gabriel grit his teeth. “That was Lucifer. Or did you miss what just happened?”

“How—”

“The Cage’s broken,” Castiel said, pulling Dean off Gabriel.

“You should’ve left me down there,” Gabriel said, though his Grace quailed at the thought.

“Don’t say that,” Steve snapped.

“If you think we would leave you down there—” Loki began angrily.

“That’s enough.” The words were sharp. “We don’t have time for this. We need to ward this place now. Because that banishing symbol’s good until the morning, but Lucifer will be able to waltz right in here then. And we might not be so lucky to get that painted in time.”

“If we ward against him, will it not affect you?” Jarvis asked, frowning.

“Use his name.” Gabriel shot Castiel a look. “You know what I mean, Castiel. Show the others how it’s done.”

Steve grabbed Gabriel’s arm before he could leave. “And where are you going?”

Gabriel shot him a weary smile that he hoped wasn’t tinged with the terror he felt. “I’m going to distract him – give you guys more time to finish it up.”

 “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

 “I don’t plan on it—”

“You didn’t tell us the last time. Don’t go sacrificing yourself again. Please.”

“Steve.” Gabriel caught his face in his hands, ignoring the way the others were rushing around the bunker under Castiel’s harried guidance. “It’ll be all right. It’ll be fine.”

“You said that last time,” Steve said quietly, one hand coming up to Gabriel’s right and curling around it.

“I mean it this time,” Gabriel said. “I’ve got a plan. A better one this time. You’ll see me again, okay?”

 Steve’s eyes were pained. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Do that.” Gabriel pulled him down to plant a light kiss on his forehead before letting go and heading to the exit.

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to see Lucifer again. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to – not again. But luck wasn’t on his side, and he couldn’t stop himself from shivering in fear.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he stepped out of the bunker into the cool night. Small shivers ran down his back, and he pressed his lips together as he walked forward.

His eyes dropped to the still form at Lucifer’s feet, and Gabriel bit back curses.

Raphael… He should have known what she would try to do. But it was too late now; the bloody mess on her back was proof enough along with the absence of her soul.

Gabriel met Lucifer’s eyes, fear skittering through him as he saw Lucifer’s Grace hiding behind Sam Winchester’s eyes. “Lucifer.” He was proud that his voice didn’t reveal his fear.

Lucifer’s smile was easy. “Gabriel. Decided to meet me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gabriel’s fingers curled and uncurled nervously. “You know how it is. Long lost family member drops in for a visit. I just need to catch up with them.” His smile was tinged with anxiety.

Lucifer’s smile turned into a smirk. “Admirable.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel didn’t move any closer, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Lucifer was well aware of his terror; there wasn’t much Gabriel could do to hide it at this point.

He just needed to distract Lucifer long enough for them to get the wards up. And to do that he would need to talk.

“So.” Gabriel wet his lips, fingers itching for his sword. But he didn’t draw it. Not yet. “We haven’t really talked.”

Lucifer’s brow scrunched slightly in confusion.

“I mean, you talked at me, but I didn’t really get the chance to talk back.”

“Did you have anything to say?” Lucifer asked.

Gabriel pulled out a grin that was all teeth. “Oh yeah. Loads. For starters, I’ve got a message.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and he took a menacing step forward.

Gabriel flinched back before he could stop himself, hands flying up defensively. “Easy now!” He kept the fright out of his voice by sheer willpower. “I think you’ll want to hear this.”

“What makes you think I have any interest in listening to what He has to say?” Lucifer snapped, shoulders heaving.

“Because He’s sorry,” Gabriel said, both hands still up. “He made a mistake.”

Whatever he’d thought, Lucifer clearly hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“Dad made a mistake,” Gabriel repeated, tension vibrating through him. He shifted nervously, taking a small, fortifying breath. “When you rebelled, Lucifer, He made a mistake. And He’s sorry.”

Lucifer’s jaw worked. “That’s all? He’s sorry?” He dropped his chin, eyes fixed on Gabriel as he took two more steps forward.

“That’s not it!” Gabriel flinched again but stopped himself from taking another step back. He braced his shoulders, swallowing. “That’s not everything,” he continued in a calmer voice. He swallowed again, setting his feet firmly on the ground. Don’t move again. Don’t give any more ground than you already have.

Lucifer stopped moving, tilting his chin up in a manner that told Gabriel he had better start talking.

“He says you can go back,” Gabriel said. “Back to Heaven. It’s open for you.”

“Just me?”

“Everyone who followed you,” Gabriel said. “He’s sorry.”

Lucifer grinned shortly before breaking into dark chuckles. “What is this? A compensation package?”

“An apology.”

“Then why doesn’t He tell me this Himself instead than having you do His dirty work?”

Gabriel offered a broken grin. “He didn’t exactly stick around to let me ask.”

“Naturally.” The word was filled with venom. “Was that it?”

“Just stop, Lucifer,” Gabriel said, rather than blurt out everything their Father had said to Azazel. “Please.”

“Why should I?” Lucifer hissed angrily, nostrils flaring. “Don’t I have a right to be angry? He cast me down, Gabriel. He cast me down for an eternity and then turns around and expects me to forgive Him just like that?”

Gabriel restrained a terrified shiver, feeling his human soul quake where he had it bundled up inside his Grace. “It needs to start someplace. It doesn’t have to be this way, Lucifer. You…you were my big sibling.” He let out a breathless laugh. “You taught me everything I know. You think you were the only one hurt by what you pulled back then? Heaven wasn’t the same after you were gone. Why the hell do you think I left?”

“Because you were bored?” Lucifer grinned, quicksilver-like before it washed off his face, replaced by steely hardness. “I hope Michael hurt. But he didn’t stop, even though I asked him to. I did. But he didn’t want to. Too fixated on his destiny.” He spat the word out like it was poison.

“And what about you?” Gabriel nearly bit his tongue when Lucifer’s eyes snapped to his, sharp and deadly. But he couldn’t stop. “What have you been doing? You’ve been following the same script, Lucifer. Break the seals, leave the Cage, and start the apocalypse. Exactly word-for-word to what was laid down on paper. You can’t derail a prophecy without going off-script. And it only needs one person.”

“It was prophesied that Heaven would win, and that you would have your paradise,” Lucifer said, the words almost sibilant as they rolled off his tongue. “What greater victory would there be but for me to win? There would be no new beginnings; just an end.”

Gabriel worked his jaw. “And you want that? You want an end to everything?”

Lucifer smiled, slow and sweet, eyes crinkling in a way that only Sam could pull off and looked wrong with Lucifer staring out behind that face. “It would be a start,” he said gently, and then there was a sharp, stabbing pain in Gabriel’s chest.

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

The Legend of Asriel PART 4 | HYRULE CASTLE

now home, chara finds what they weren’t looking for.

Frisk cheerfully waves goodbye to Maddie, who refuses to be charmed by this brat and just tells them she won’t be sticking around to lug them anywhere else. Frisk considers this reasonable, and turns to Chara to ask for further directions to where they’re going. Chara points at the castle in the distance.

“Question,“ Frisk signs. “Why do you expect to find this person in Hyrule Castle?“

“Because he lives there,“ Chara replies, as if that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who is he, anyway?“

Chara takes some time to respond, continuing to lead Frisk through the streets with ease. “He’s the prince,” they finally sign. “As the Hero, I was raised for the purpose of fighting alongside him to defeat the evil destined to threaten Hyrule. We’re practically siblings.”

Frisk squints. “I’ve been wondering about that. What makes you the hero and not some other person?”

Chara wordlessly tugs one of their leather gauntlets off and shows Frisk the back of their hand, where a faint birthmark in the shape of three triangles sits. “This marks me as part of this whole cycle of evil. Asriel has one too, and the other is supposedly on the sealed evil, which only leaves me. The Hero.”

Frisk rubs a little at the back of their own hand as Chara tugs the gauntlet back on. “That seems dumb and arbitrary,” they say. “Who is this evil anyway?”

Chara shrugs. “The story doesn’t say,” they reply. “All we know is that a hundred years ago, the Prince and the Hero raised alongside him fought back a terrible evil and sealed it away for a hundred years, and now the time is up.” They pause. “Well, I hope it’s still only been a hundred years. Again, I don’t know how long I’ve been gone.”

Frisk nods, and the conversation drops. Chara leads them to the castle gates and they try to gain access, but the guards inform them that no one is permitted into the castle to see the prince so “Scram, kid.”

Chara informs them that it’s fine, they really didn’t expect it to work anyway. The bit about no one being allowed is curious, but they don’t know what to make of it yet so, “Here, follow, me I know the best way to sneak in and out of this place.”

What follows is a stealth segment. Frisk gets in through a secret passage and has to sneak through the halls, dodging patrolling guards and servants and whatnot. Chara recognizes some of them, confirming to them that they haven’t been gone that long. They also capture some snippets of passing conversations, maids complaining to each other about how strict “that dodgy scientist” is being and other foreshadowing of that ilk.

The first place Chara leads Frisk is to the garden. Asriel always liked to hang out with them there! But they search high and low between the tall hedges and find no prince. So they head for his quarters, which look far more tidy than Chara has ever seen him— it’s like he hasn’t even touched them for months. On a whim, they poke their head into their own quarters just across the hall, and see them in much the same state. They try and fail to rearrange their pillows into something less eerily neat.

Another conversation passes, and this one really grabs their attention because there’s their Dad— King— Asgore, walking with some masked guy they’ve never seen before. Frisk follows, still in Stealth Mode, and they go down into the dungeons to find a sorta... laboratory... workshop-y.... room. Which Chara is quite sure wasn’t always there, this room used to contain like, training dummies and stuff. Now there’s all these tables and equipment and stuff, and a weird bundle on top of a crate which Chara keeps finding their eyes drifting towards as they follow Asgore into the room. Frisk hides behind some kinda furniture or in a convenient air vent or something, idk, and the two of them listen in.

Asgore and The Dude have a heated discussion of some sort. The dude has Plans and Asgore is a reluctant coward as usual. Several nuggets of information are dropped: First of all, it’s been six months since Chara died. Second, the Queen is missing, having been the one to deliver this news and also Chara’s body to the castle before disappearing off the face of the planet (also with Chara’s body). Third, Asriel is missing, and as much as Chara is upset to hear about that they realize they really should’ve seen that coming seeing as they already checked the two places Asriel hangs out in when Chara isn’t around. Oh, also the dude’s name is Dr. Gaster. Does this qualify as a twist? I don’t think it does.

I would also like to note that Deltarune has very little bearing on Gaster’s role in the story, as we currently have next to no concrete information on how he plays into it. Some minor details are influenced, of course, but just in case anyone decides to come charging in telling me about how wrong I am. I don’t care. This is my au. I can do what I want.

Conversation continues. Whatever Gaster’s plans are, they apparently involve that bundle Chara keeps finding themself staring at. It is an Important Bundle. Gaster picks it up and starts unwrapping it, expressing how Important it is. Asgore agrees that it is Important and that is why he is against it being used for anything because the hero is dead who else could possibly use it, much less in this state.

I then proceed to hold you the reader in suspense for the duration for at least another sentence.

Gaster dumps the contents of the bundle on a bare table and Chara suppresses a shriek at the sight of a million shards of silver metal all clattering together and topped by a blue hilt, carved in the shape of two stylized bird wings.

“When the FUCK did that happen,“ they ask, very loudly and unheard by literally anyone but themself. Gaster and Asgore go on talking, but Chara is too busy forgetting to continue interpreting for Frisk as they leap across the room to look more closely. They have to confirm. This can’t be the Master Sword, right? The legendary sword of evil’s bane? It can’t just explode into a million pieces, right? What kind of a legendary piece of shit does that? It can’t be real.

But the closer they look at it, the more certain they get— it’s very real. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up a little as they reach to touch the hilt, though they’re sure they’ll just pass through like always, but they’re cut off by Asgore slamming his fist on the table. The conversation was still going, after all, and something Gaster had to say made the king mad.

“I will not have you insinuate such things about Chara,“ Asgore says. “They were as a much my child as Asriel. You cannot possibly say they were any type of villain!“

Gaster dips his head. “Be that as it may. The fact that the sword was rendered in this state. After their failed attempt to retrieve it. Indicates they were not the hero. With only one other option available...”

Asgore snorts, cloak billowing right through Chara’s body as he turns to leave. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Come speak to me when you can speak of actually sensible topics.”

“...Very well,“ Gaster says, and Asgore vanishes out the door. Somehow, he manages to look baleful even through the odd cracked mask he’s been wearing this whole time.

He remains for a few minutes longer, carefully re-wrapping the pieces of the Master Sword and setting them aside once more. He examines some of the machinery, prods a few things, then leaves as well.

Frisk pokes their head out from their hiding place to give Chara a dry stare. “Mind filling me in?” they ask, getting to their feet. “You only translated the first half of that conversation, I had to guess at what they were talking about after that.”

“My apologies,“ Chara says, perching on the edge of a table with a casual smile. “I had deemed the rest of what they had to say so utterly banal, I was sure you’d be just as bored as I was.“

“Bullcrap,“ Frisk says, leaning around them to look at the bundle. “You’re way more awesome at interpreting than that, something got your attention. What was that, a pile of daggers?“

“A broken sword, actually,“ Chara replies, smile growing strained. “The sword I was meant to acquire, actually. You may recall I mentioned it?“

“Vaguely,“ Frisk says. “Anyway, conversation?“

Chara shrugs helplessly. “I was sorta distracted, sorry,“ they reply. “I think that Gaster guy insinuated I’m not the Hero and Dad got mad, which he should because obviously I’m the Hero. I’ve been the Hero all my life.“

Frisk remains skeptical.

“Anyway we definitely shouldn’t stick around, that guy could come back at any minute,“ Chara says, hopping to their feet and trying to look like they’re not on the verge of a panic attack. “Grab the bundle and let’s go.“

“Wait, why do we need the bundle?“ Frisk asks, picking it up. “It’s just a bunch of hunks of metal now, right?“

“I dunno but it’s definitely important,“ Chara says, bustling them out of the door. “Now come on, nearest escape route’s that way.“

More stealth, but this one ends in Frisk getting spotted by a guard. They attempt to flee, but luck is not on their side as they get surrounded. Gaster shows up, being basically in charge of everything right now and naturally curious about the sudden cries about an intruder. The guards part all dramatic-like to let him through and he peers at Frisk, musing about what a child from the desert is doing all the way up here.

Then he notices the bundle tucked under their arm. They attempt to turn their body to hide it, but Gaster has already seen it. “Would you care to hand that over?” he asks, holding out a hand. “It’s quite important. Not the sort of. Thing. Petty thieves have any use for.”

Frisk narrows their eyes, taking a small step back, and Gaster tuts. “I had hoped. You would listen,” he says. He jerks his head at one of the guards. “You. Retrieve that package. Mind their blade. Whether they know how to use it. I imagine it would sting.”

The indicated guard steps forward, reaching for the bundle, and Frisk draws back again, indeed going for their sword. There’s not very far they can go, though, and no way they could win this fight, so they prepare to give up the bundle.

Chara has other ideas, though, and as the guard touches the bundle they lunge, hands passing through the fabric and wrapping around the broken hilt— wrapping around it, they realize, not merely pretending but actually touching it— and something surges through them. And then a fraction of a second, it surges out of them in the form of a blinding flash of golden light that sends all the guards reeling, eyes burnt as they grope around wildly and raise their voices in an attempt to figure out what just happened.

When the spots clear from their vision, they find the weird child is gone, and the Royal Scientist merely staring at the spot they just vacated with his mask as unreadable as always. And a short distance from the palace (but growing further with every moment) Frisk runs full-tilt away from the window they just scrambled out of, bundle clutched tight to their chest and ghost drifting along after them.

“I told you it’d be important!“

[Next Part] [Index]