#the most i have ever gotten out of it is feeling mildly dizzy for half an hour

[rabbivole]

taking naproxen for my screaming sinus headache seems to have had the side effect of reducing sinus inflammation so i can actually kind of breathe, which is cool, given that OTC decongestants still do absolutely nothing to me. but im still coughing. and im just remembering the time i was prescribed codeine for a persistent dry cough and it had roughly the same effect on me as eating maple syrup, so i didn't bother taking it

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.6

ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5

Summary: It's backstory time!

Mandatory warning since this is not a usual thing on my blog so I think a separate warning would be useful, there will be talk of past abuse and alcohol abuse.

----

"Wakey wakey," came the gruff voice from just outside her bedroom door.

It was slightly muffled but more than enough to make her jolt awake, muscle memory taking over the remnants of sleep. She only had one minute to be out the door. It was more than enough though, her routine perfected over years. Get out of bed. Put socks on. Get shoes. Grab the duffel bag. She slept dressed anyways, ready to go at any time.

Or not?

Where were her clothes?

Nevermind that she had time to put something on. Just grab a shirt and pants from the dresser.

Hurried steps took her over the plush carpet. Wasn't it supposed to be a solid grey? Had her mother swapped it for one of their fancier rugs?

That didn't matter right now. Clothes. She needed clothes. When she got to her dresser she stood there, frowning at the bookshelf that now took its place. She didn't even remember acquiring the tomes in front of her, most of them old and with unfamiliar trinkets surrounding them. That's not how her bedroom was arranged. Why wasn't anything in its place? Was Alex playing a prank on her? No, he wouldn't do that.

Time was almost up and she needed some goddamn clothes and to get out and her head was starting to spin-

"Nicole?"

Her eyes snapped back to the bed she had so hastily vacated, Cassandra looking at her concerned.

From the room's entrance came another familiar voice. Bela. "I only wanted to let you know that Daniela wants to go for a hunt tomorrow." Her eyes were averted and as soon as the words left her lips, she turned and shut the door behind her, not waiting for an answer from her sister.

Confusion mixed in with dizziness, but Nicole let out a quiet oh when she fully realized where she was. Cassandra's bedroom. They came here last night and fell asleep. And she was only wearing underwear.

She went to sit on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands to try alleviate the fog in her brain. She probably looked like hell, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Came the uncharacteristically soft voice of Cassandra, who had moved from her spot under the blankets and was gently rubbing her back.

"Uh, nothing," Nicole replied, as if she didn't look ready to puke.

Cassandra only pursed her lips and frowned. "You looked like you simultaneously saw a ghost and were ready to fight a ghost."

She swallowed thickly and forced out a laugh. "Oh are we at "tragic backstory" relationship level now?" It was at best a pathetic attempt to change the subject and at worst annoying.

When she looked back at the brunette she was still frowning, but not in annoyance. Her golden eyes sparked with concern, scrutinizing the redhead's face and body language for any clue as to what was wrong. It sent a pang of guilt through Nicole's chest. She took a deep breath and leaned back into Cassandra's touch, trying to collect her thoughts. Where does one even begin to explain this whole mess?

"Have you ever wondered why I came here? To the village?"

"...Not really," she admitted.

Nicole took another deep breath, pulling the words from her mouth as if she were pulling out teeth with pliers.

"My dad, he…he had a bit of a weird business. We never knew the details of it, he never told any of us and we knew better than to snoop, but I do know it had something to do with drugs and was highly illegal."

Staying in one place proved itself a pesky little task, so Nicole stood up and started to collect her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Cassandra instead remained in the same spot, listening intently.

"With a job like that you make enemies by default. And that made him paranoid beyond belief. When me and Alex, my older brother, were children it wasn't that bad. Worst thing he would do was lock our bedroom doors and refuse to let us attend public school."

She narrowed her eyes at a wall, still not wanting to meet Cassandra's gaze. Now that she said it out loud, not that bad sounded pretty bad too. Whatever.

"It started going downhill when I was around…" She pursed her lips, trying to make her brain put together some semblance of a timeline. "Twelve. Yeah twelve. He came bursting into our bedrooms at 2 a.m. saying that someone with a gun had gotten into our house and wanted to kill us. We were mortified. I remember my mom holding me and Alex in the backseat crying while my dad drove us to his secluded cabin in the woods."

"And that became a habit of his. He'd have us do these drills every once in a while and then scream at us if we didn't do everything in under a minute."

"That's so fucking stupid," Cassandra spat, golden eyes gleaming with anger.

Nicole started pacing back and forth, desperate for a distraction. "Oh I know. And after a few years of this I made sure to tell him exactly how much I thought it was bullshit."

Finally coming to terms with the lack of something to do while she talked, Nicole gave up and went back to the bed. She sat down by Cassandra's side, though still avoiding her eyes.

"Do you know what getting punched in the face feels like?"

Cassandra's expression contorted into a disgusted grimace. With the hand not on Nicole's back rubbing comforting circles, she dug talons into the soft fabric of a blanket. She didn't really have an answer because frankly she didn't know. Her body reacted very differently to physical harm and the few that could hurt her wouldn't go for a stupid punch to the face. Nicole kept on talking though, not really looking for an answer.

"That shut me up for a bit. Key word a bit. When he woke me up on the night before an important test I was pissed. I just thought fuck it and went upstairs to the library. It took him around twenty minutes to find me and when he did… Well, I regretted some life choices."

"I was so done with being there in that house. Though thankfully my parents went on a business trip the next day and Alex was at a friend's for the weekend. I had the whole house to myself and decided to grab one of my mom's vintage wines and just spend the evening on the couch drinking. And that's how I became an alcoholic at the ripe old age of fifteen." She let out a humorless chuckle at the end.

That day was a blur in her mind. The only thing that she vividly remembered was Alex coming home early and finding her blackout drunk on the couch. At the end of the day though, they were both in the same boat. He just grabbed the bottle from her and started to sip away at the remaining wine. Laughing at each other's hangover the next day was the most fun they'd had in ages so it became a habit for the both of them. Every once in a while they'd go into the wine cellar, pick out a bottle and then go drink it in the attic while they pretended their problems didn't exist. It continued well into their college years. Nicole was barely able to recall doing anything during her years in med school that wasn't being drunk or studying.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That's not where she meant to go with the story. Cassandra placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder brought her enough comfort to try and wrap it up.

"I guess in a sick ironic way my dad was right in the end though," she subconsciously shifted closer to the brunette and she wasted no time in loosely wrapping her arms around Nicole's waist.

"I was three weeks away from completing my residency when I came home from the lab, only to find my mom in a puddle of blood on the living room floor. My brother was in a similar state in his bedroom. My dad was nowhere to be found but I didn't care. It was his fault," she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I just grabbed my documents and a duffle bag with some clothes and ran. Booked the first flight to Romania to come stay at my grandparents'. Oh except they know what my dad is all about! Told me I had an hour to get some rest and be out of their house as they didn't want any trouble with my dad's people."

"I did grab a fuck ton of my dad's cash though so at least hotels weren't an issue," her words were coming out chocked, occasionally interrupted by sniffles. She rapidly whipped a hand across her face. "Have you ever been to Braşov? Old part of the city is quite lovely."

Cassandra grimaced. She didn't want to interrupt, but seeing Nicole in such a state made something in her unbeating heart ache. She gently wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her temple from where she was sitting half behind Nicole. Then, with the softest voice she could muster, "And how did you meet Duke?"

Nicole's eyes widened slightly, apparently having forgotten that detail.

"Oh I stumbled upon his shop one day. I thought he was selling some neat stuff and he was nice so I kept coming back. One thing led to another and when I found out about a place off the map where no one gets in or out without help I thought it would be the perfect place to hide from the people trying to put a bullet through my head." Then she winced slightly. "I was also mildly tipsy when I made that decision."

Cassandra looked a little incredulous. "And he just brought you here?"

"I paid him."

Cassandra's expression turned to what could only be described as disappointed but not surprised. Then her attention went back on the redhead, glossy eyes fixated on the floor. To say she sucked at comforting others was an understatement. Daniela was far more well versed in the art of making others not feel miserable but she was nothing if not stubborn enough to try.

"Listen," she shifted to sit in front of her, hand placed gently on a wet cheek. "If anyone ever dares come near you with the intention of harming you, I'll make them regret every life choice that led them there. You're safe here." She may not be great with her words, but if Cassandra excelled in anything, it was keeping her loved ones safe. Loved one huh.

Nicole leaned into her touch, finally meeting Cassandra's eyes. There was a gentle kind of determination in her golden gaze, accompanied by a fiery rage that, for once in her life, brought comfort as opposed to terror. It came with the knowledge that it wasn't directed at her but at whoever may want to harm her.

She didn't doubt her words. Instead she shifted closer, face nuzzled in the crook of Cassandra's neck and, barely above a whisper, said: "Thank you."

[bokettochild]

Hey Ketto, I'm not sure if you are taking any requests rn, but I've had a rough time of it recently and if it's no bother or hassle, could I request a fic where Time gets comforted by Warriors? Something with cuddles and hair petting, and Time getting to be held. Only if it's no bother. - Nick @thesacredtwink

Of course, Nick!

Sorry I didn't see this until just recently, but I whipped up something for you as soon as I could. I hope it helps, luv, and if you want more please do not hesitate to ask!

Time has been acting strange since the last switch.

At first, none of them questioned it, after all, leaving the ranch made them all a bit down, Time especially however, their leader usually sprung back to himself within a few days of travel time, going back to making jokes that made the others groan and offering advice and aid to their younger heroes. This time however, Time had only gotten worse, the shadows under his eyes growing nightly, the older hero falling silent and stern and very nearly snappish with the others. Only this evening, Warriors had seen Time lose his temper with Wind when the kid had been bubbling around him all day, and while the sailor took the scolding and tired ‘you’re just too much, Wind’ like a soldier, Wars had seen how the kid had retreated to Twilight and Legend during dinner, clinging to the both of them with misty eyes and keeping himself strangely silent while Time brooded on the other side of the fire.

The captain sighed to himself. If his boys were having trouble getting along, not just adjusting to being on the road again, then it was his place as a father (brother?) to step up and see what the problem was. After all, Time would tear himself up about this later, so he needed to nip it in the bud now before the man did something that would make the following guilt later even worse.

Time was seated on the far edge of camp that evening, and unlike most nights on the road, the man had left his sword in its sheath, himself still clad in his armor as the others shed their excess layers, and a blue ocarina was cradled in his hands, eyes distant and brows pulled low as he stared off into the forest. Not brooding then, sulking, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was better or worse in the moment.

“Room for one more?”

Time’s blue eye flickered to him for a moment with a dark scowl, the man shaking his head tiredly and pulling himself up.

Oh shoot, a royal sulk! Time was usually fine to let someone sit next to him, even when he was brooding, but if it was so bad that he didn’t even want anyone nearby? Oh goddesses, Warriors had his work cut out for him.

Dinner that night was a cold affair, the younger ones trying to prompt Wind into anything resembling conversation as Legend poked the sailor’s side, and the older ones exchanging worried glances as they looked from their sulking leader to each other. Usually, someone would break the stillness with a joke or a tease, but Legend’s snark only made things worse when Time shot the vet a look after he had made a jab at Warriors, and while the captain appreciated the defense of his honor, it was reminding him much too much of the war when Time had been a gremlin ready to wreak havoc on anyone at the nearest hint of insult to his father-figure. And while he rather doubted that Time could pants Legend (no pants, and their leader hopefully knew better now that he was older) it was an uncomfortable reminder of the kid’s worse days when nothing could get through to him and Warriors had to be very careful to hide his flask where the kid wouldn’t find it.

When arranging watches, Time had just grunted and moved to the edges of camp and Warriors found himself wincing.

“I’ll take second watch.” He told the others. “Time’s claimed first- don't ask, that’s what that huff usually means. Wind, you’re on Twilight duty, make sure the rancher doesn’t wander off again this evening, alright?” That earned a smile from the kid however hesitant, and while Twilight looked mildly offended, Warriors mentally blessed the rancher for not protesting the comment.

“Yessir, Cap’n.” Wind offered a sharp little salute, and he couldn’t help but reach over and ruffle the kid’s hair as his chest had swelled with pride. They’d worked on that salute a thousand times and now it was as clipped and smooth as any officer’s, even better than many of his men. Maybe he should have the sailor give his soldiers a few tips he chuckled to himself as the others sorted out watches; Legend taking the one directly after his and Hyrule the one after. Wild was on morning cooking duty, so the kid was ordered to rest for the night to avoid any sort of unfortunate mishaps. Usually, it wasn’t a problem to let the wild Champion take final watch, but if his plans (of course he had plans, did you doubt him?) were going to work out, the kid would need to be well rested to prepare the breakfast he’d asked for in the morning.

Knowing glances were shot his way by the others, Sky and Twilight both clapping his back and Legend tugging his scarf with an impish smirk as the others headed to bed, silent wishes of good luck ringing clear across the camp as he was left alone with their leader while the others settled in for bed.

He waited until the sun had set properly and the snoring of the others had begun rumbling around the camp, Twilight’s throaty snorts and Wind’s rumbling ones mixing with Four and Legend’s more soft snuffling ones. Hyrule and Wild lay silent and curled up, each snuggled into one side of the cuddle pile that had formed with Wind in the center, the sailor clinging to Twilight and Legend both in his sleep and dooming them to be smushed in by the other heroes. Sky, at the head of the pile, drooled slightly in his sleep, apparently uncaring that the others were using him as a pillow, and with one hand lost in Twilight’s dark hair. It made him smile as he took them in, pulling himself up to go and ensure they were all tucked in warmly before he turned his attention to the brooding warrior on the edge of their camp.

Time was still fiddling with his ocarina, eyes downcast and almost misty as the older man sat on the edge of camp, and he had to stop for a moment to collect himself before confronting him; Time looked miserable.

“Guilt hitting you yet for yelling at Wind?” He drawled, coming to sit next to the other and carefully arranging his scarf where time could grab it if needed. The man was no longer a child, but even so the blue fabric was a comfort to most of their odd little family, and scoldings or long talks were always made easier when it was available to hide under.

“A bit.”

“If it helps, he knows you didn’t mean it.”

Time slumped in place. “I still said it. Wind looks up to me now, I-” The other cut off with a sigh, tired eyes and weary heart both dimming as he watched.

“Right then, what’s eating you?” At Time’s startled expression he offered a knowing frown. “I helped raise you, Sap, I know when you’re taring yourself up over something and I’d half to be as blind as you to not tell when somethings hurting you. So, what is it?”

Royal blue blinked slowly, a match for his own and so terribly distant as Time turned back to the forest, thumbs trailing over the smooth porcelain of the ocarina. “I’m worried.”

“For?”

“For Malon.” Oh shit. “She wasn’t feeling too good when we left and-” Time’s face twisted up, eye glimmering as the man stared up at the stars, pain twisting his expression and straining his voice as one hand had wound into the prepared scarf. “I’m not there. Talon’s getting on in years and if something happens when we’re gone-” Time’s voice hitched, not quite a sob but broken all the same, and like a trigger was hit Warriors was already pulling the other man into his arms, holding tight as Time’s shoulders shuddered under his grasp. “I’m worried, Pops.” Came the broken whisper. “What if-”

“Shhhh.” Like a million times before his hands were running through short blonde hair. It had been ages since he’d trimmed either of his boys and Time was getting shaggy again, something he was grateful for. Running his hands through the kid’s hair had always helped him calm, and it seemed to still be effective even ow, Time melting further into his embrace as he hummed softly, rocking ever so slightly in place. “Malon’s a strong woman, she’ll be fine. People get sick all the time, Sapling, this isn’t anything to fuss over.”

“She couldn’t get out of bed the other morning.” Time breathed against his chest, the ocarina falling to the ground as both of the man’s hands had wound into the blue scarf instead.

Warriors tried to steady the stutter of his heart as he clutched the other a but tighter. “Is that so?”

“She’s been awful nauseas too.” Time choked out. “Wars, I-”

“Has she had random dizzy spells and weird cravings? Maybe gets sickened at the mere idea of certain foods but also likes eating things that even a pig would turn away from?” Oh, goddesses let this be right.

Time’s blue eye stared up at him curiously. “Y-yeah, how’d-”

The captain choked back a snort. “She’ll be fine, Time. Ladies get that way sometimes. My own beloved was that way for a while too, it passes in time, and there's few ill effects.”

“What ill effects?” Time shifted uneasily, pulling away to stare at him better.

“Exhaustion mostly, some pain, and loss of sleep, but,” He tilted his head with a knowing grin. “It’s well worth it in the end when she’s okay again. You’ll want to talk to her about it next time we get there,” if the bulge of Malon’s stomach didn’t give her away first. “But she’ll be alright.” Time stared at him in disbelief, brows pulling together in a doubtful frown that had him huffing in mock offence. “Wat, you don’t believe me?”

“Battlefield experience as a medic-”

Wars cut Time off with a snort. “Battlefield nothing! I was fighting my loves illness before the war even started. It’s not something that catches, I’ll have you know, and as long as she takes it easy, something I trust Malon knows as well as the next woman, she’ll be fine.” He reached over to tig Time’s ears making the other shy away with a strained laugh, only earning a hair ruffle “Stop fussing, Sapling, your lady love will live just fine.”

Time actually outed at him for a moment, something which quite frankly looked ridiculous on the man’s face and made him bust up laughing as the other flopped against him. Absently, his hands drifted back into Time’s shaggy hair, humming softly as Time continued to lay in silence, eyes staring up at the stars and ears twitching slowly.

“Tomorrow,” He tugged one flickering ear pointedly. “You need to apologize to Wind.”

“Trust me, I intend to.”

“Good.” He grinned, flopping his scarf across the other’s face. “But for now, rest, kiddo, you’re a right grouch when you're tired and I don’t mind pulling double shift for a night.”

“I’m-”

“Not fine, and not staying up. Past your bed-time squirt.” He tugged the ear again, earning a soft growl from his adult kid as Time shifted.

“I’m still in my armor.”

“Then change.”

Time pulled himself up with a huff, shucking his armor and letting Wars help him with the buckles and belts before the both of them settled down again. Tomorrow night, the leader’s metal shell would need cleaning, but for now, he’d let himself out to be seen and held, head nestled in Warriors’ lap as the captain played with his hair.

Time’s breathes evened out to join the cacophony of rumbling snores of the others. Warriors smiled, ruffling his son’s hair fondly and turning his eyes towards the moon.

[ggukcangetit]

If The Bra Fits - JJK Fic

Final part of The Unbearable Lightness of Being... Something More series

Part 1 | Part 2 | 

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: ex-roommate au, f2l, fluff, smut, low-key crack

Rating: 18+

Summary: Jungkook knows you hate it when he pops into your apartment to borrow something, but in the 2 years that you’ve known each other, that hasn’t deterred him much. But one day when he manages to (accidentally) ruin your favorite bra while raiding through your emergency snack supply, he knows that he’s fucked. With only a brand name to help him on his search, Jungkook spends the next 48 hours buying all the bras that look even remotely like the one he ruined. The only problem is - how would he figure out which was the correct size without asking you?

Warnings: a lot of talk of breasts and the trials and tribulations of finding a good bra, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, kissing, grinding, nipple play

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: thanks a ton to @hesperantha​ for beta-ing this! i was super nervous about writing proper smut >.< anywho, hope y’all enjoy this!

Jungkook knew he was fucked. Worse than when Jimin had walked in on Yoongi doing the do with his girlfriend. Worse than when Taehyung had lost his pet frog in Seokjin’s spice drawer. Worse than-

“Fuck.”

He would probably have to leave the country. Maybe he could move to Canada? Or New Zealand? Anywhere that wasn’t here. Or he could change his name! That might work…

“H-hello?” 

“What the hell, Jungkook? You were supposed to meet me for lunch 40 minutes ago! This is rude and, frankly, inexcusable behavior on your part.” Seokjin’s annoyed voice, talking at 300 words a minute, rang through the phone’s speaker. “And why the hell do you sound like that? Did you walk in on Yoongi and Soya this time? I swear, that guy needs to learn to lock his door. Or maybe just change his locks. I mean this is probably-”

“Seokjin!” Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose as his friend slowed his word flow. “I’ll be there in 10 and explain everything.”

Hanging up the phone, he surveyed the site of the massacre once more before stuffing the offending object into his backpack and rushing out. True to his word, he was at the hole-in-the-wall dumpling place in 10 minutes, attempting to explain to an irate Seokjin, the reason behind his tardiness. 

“No! You did not do that!” Seokjin yelled, nearly choking on the hot soup dumpling that was hanging - half eaten - from his chopsticks.

Jungkook had, in fact, done that. That being the most cardinal offense his frazzled brain could think of at this point. That being sneaking into your apartment when you were at work, hoping to swipe some of your favorite shrimp puffs, placing his cup of steaming hot mocha on your study table, rummaging through your emergency snack supply but somehow inadvertently knocking over the coffee on the table, and cleaning it up with the nearest article available, which tragically, happened to be your mint green bra. 

“She’s going to kill you. No” - Seokjin picked up a egg cream bun and popped the whole thing into his mouth - “she’s going to whip your ass and then hang you upside down from that metal pole on Hobi’s balcony.”

Jungkook stared at the way the cream bun smoothly travelled down Seokjin’s throat after a couple of chews, and shivered. “What do I do??”

“Why do you have to do anything? She won’t know it was you who spilled coffee on her table and then wiped it with her bra. Unless...” 

Jungkook stared at his fingers guiltily. 

“You took the bra with you, didn’t you?” Seokjin sighed, lightly smacking his friend on the back of the head for good measure. “Well, you could always blame it on Namjoon. That’s what I would do. Heck, that’s what I did when I accidentally broke Hobi’s favorite figurine.”

“I don’t know…”

“You have to commit to something, Jaykay.” Every time Seokjin used his nickname for Jungkook, it meant there was some kind of terrible scheme being cooked up. “Either be a complete little shit and blame it on Namjoon, or just go and own up to y/n. You can’t teeter on the edge like this.”

“I could always just sneak back in and leave her bra where I found it.” Jungkook felt better already. This was it. This was the middle ground he was aspiring towards - the sacred path between Seokjin and Hobi, the Yoongi of all decisions. 

“You might not have to sneak in” - Seokjin held up his smartphone where the group chat was open to a bunch of notifications - “Tae said we’re meeting at y/n’s place for tacos and UNO.”

“Why is Tae so invested in our UNO games? He gets confused every time we play it.” 

“Because” - Seokjin swiped his credit card at the counter and thanked the cashier with a quick wink - “like every good strategist, he plans to improve by observing everyone else’s style of play. He definitely knows how to play by now. He’s just giving us the confused puppy look so that we underestimate him and he can learn all our little tricks. Just you wait - a few more games and that sneaky shit will be handing our asses back to us.”

Jungkook, while mildly interested in Taehyung’s card game antics, was more concerned about returning your bra without arousing any suspicion. The perfect moment presented itself when Seokjin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung and Hobi were immersed in a game of UNO, while you and Soya were munching on tacos - because let’s face it, food trumps just about everything else. Coming up with a half-convincing bathroom excuse, he snuck off towards your room, hoping to finally rid himself of the mint green burden.

Seconds before he pushed your door open, a snippet of conversation floated towards him and made his heart stop beating.

“I can’t find it anywhere.” You were complaining to Soya about something, loud enough for him to hear. “I must’ve turned my room upside down looking for it.”

Soya didn’t seem too perturbed. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a bra. Yoongi regularly loses my underwear after we have sex in new locations.”

Jungkook chuckled because he could almost see the look of horror on your face at receiving this piece of information. 

“Ignoring that TMI,” you continued. “That’s my favorite bra, Soya! You know how our sizes keep fluctuating - well, this was the first bra I bought after getting measured at a proper place. It literally changed my life. Do you know how fabulous it feels to have your boobs at normal chest level - neither squished up towards your collarbones nor jiggling like that everlasting jello Seokjin keeps buying? I’m tellin-”

Jungkook stopped listening at this point. If he didn’t, there was little chance that he’d be able to think of anything other than that. As it was, the mere sight of you these days, was enough to get blood flowing to certain parts of his body. 

There was clearly only one thing to do.

“You want me to help you do WHAT?” Once again, it was Seokjin who barely managed to stop himself from choking on yet another scrumptious food item on yet another lunch date with Jungkook. 

“I’m going to replace her bra.” The resolute expression on Jungkook’s face crumbled ever so slowly under the scrutiny of Seokjin’s pure, unadulterated skepticism. “It’ll be easy. I-I already know what it looks like, and all the information I need is on the itchy tag she always complains about.”

Seokjin’s thick brow remained masterfully arched. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Jungkook whined in frustration.

“What do I get in return?”

“Why would you want anything in return? Why can’t you just help me out this time??”

The masterfully arched eyebrow did it’s trick once again.

“Fine. You can borrow all my gaming equipment for a week.”

“A month.”

“No way!”

“Good luck shopping for y/n’s favorite bra.”

“Fine! A month! Now can we get a move on please?”

Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to find the particular store that you had bought your favorite bra from. It was a niche boutique on the third floor of the mall, full of politely judgmental staff members and pointedly supercilious patrons, all of whom were highly skeptical of Jungkook’s grey and black hoodie-sweatpants combo. 

“Guess they didn’t really get on board with the whole athleisure concept,” Seokjin whispered, earning a hard elbowing from Jungkook.

The looks of skepticism were further enhanced when Jungkook produced the ruined bra, asking one of the assistants where he could find the same one. Jungkook hadn’t received such a disapproving look since his junior year of college when he had eaten 8 cups of instant ramen on a dare, done a celebratory jig, thrown up all over Yoongi and Hobi’s sofa, and promptly passed out. 

“Er… I, uhm, need something!” The exclamation from Jungkook was received by a few expertly raised eyebrows. One assistant, in particular, narrowed their eyes at him and walked over.

“This is a lingerie store” - they scanned him up and down a couple of times - “sir. If you’re here to buy any lingerie, I’d be happy to assist you.”

Jungkook gulped at the expensive clothes and flawless complexion of the shop assistant. So far, things were not really going according to plan. 

“Ow!” He felt a bony elbow dig into his ribs and glared at Seokjin, who was glancing between him and the assistant so rapidly, Jungkook was surprised he hadn’t gotten dizzy and passed out already.

“Right. Umm, I’m actually looking for this particular one” - he produced the once-pristine, but now covered in ugly brown splotches, bra from his backpack - “in this exact same size. Do you have it?”

If the shop assistant didn’t look particularly eager to be breathing the same air as him before, they now looked like they’d rather choke on month old guacamole than be near him.

“Our products are made for exclusivity. We do not carry the same sizes as the general marketplace. There are 4 basic sizes with 4 variations to each size. And this particular product” - they held the ruined bra delicately between two fingers and examined the tag - “is now only available in 3 particular size variations. You are free to choose whichever one you think is the closest fit.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes widened as he realized the itchy tag that you always complained about, truly had no other purpose but to inconvenience you. His panicked stare fell on Seokjin who had busied himself examining a very interesting leaf on the potted plant near the entrance.

It was up to him now, Jungkook realized. His fate was in his own hands. Walking over to the shelf carrying the mint green bras identical to the one he was holding, he inspected the 3 options carefully. 

“I think I’ll take this one.” Was what he said out loud. Inwardly, however, he was screaming a very different tune.

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DECIDE?? I’VE NEVER BOUGHT A BRA BEFORE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SIZE WOULD BE APPROPRIATE! IT’S NOT LIKE I SPEND ALL MY TIME SCRUTINIZING Y/N’S BREASTS!”

Thankfully, no one was privy to his internal screams except for himself.

“Thank you, sir. That will be $89.99.” Jungkook took out his debit card as the song playing over the system changed to No Tears Left To Cry.

Once out of the store, Seokjin let out a low whistle. “Wow… that was, undoubtedly, one of the most awkward situations I’ve ever been in. And I wasn’t even really in it.”

“At least the toughest part is over.” Jungkook felt like he had been running a 50 mile marathon while simultaneously figuring out the square roots of 5 digit numbers. In short, he was exhausted.

“Depends on what you think of that…” Seokjin pointed at a familiar figure, slowly walking towards them - someone Jungkook hadn’t expected to bump into in any of his worst case scenarios. You.

Confronted with an exceedingly dire situation with a bleak set of options, Jungkook vaulted into the nearest store, his entire being on high alert as it entered survival mode. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he rushed into because-

“Congratulations! You’re our 100th customer this week! You get a complimentary hair spa and perm!” Five extremely eager faces stared back at him as he realized he had walked into some sort of hair salon. 

Whoever was writing the script for this day was definitely high on something because Jungkook walked out of the salon 3 hours later, slightly traumatized, with a head full of small curls, clutching onto the cursed purchase with every fibre of his being.

Seokjin had left hours ago, dropping a text to Jungkook which read something along the lines of catch ya later sucker - but that was the least of his problems right now.

It was nearly midnight when he finally entered his apartment after managing to sneak in the new bra into your apartment. Thankfully, you lived two floors above him, so the trek back to his place wasn’t too long. The stress from the past couple of days was finally catching up to him and Jungkook would give anything for a nice long massage and a bowl of steaming hot ramen. 

Unfortunately, all that he had at home was a few leftover containers Taehyung had left behind on his last visit a couple of days ago. There was also bread, eggs, and milk, but he didn’t feel up to making anything at this point. So dinner ended up being heated, two-day old dumplings. 

Just as he was about to head to sleep, a loud pounding started on his front door. It was well past midnight at this point and Jungkook wondered if he should be carrying some sort of weapon with him while answering the door.

There really wasn’t any need for worry because on the other side of the door stood a very angry, very disgruntled, very flimsily dressed-

“Y/n?! What’re you doing here?” 

“You!” Jungkook stepped back as you poked him in the chest. “What the heck is your problem?” Many more pokes followed, which Jungkook barely registered but which left your index finger increasingly bruised. 

“I- uh, I guess you found the parcel I left for you.” He scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at you.

“I CANNOT believe you!” You were fuming and Jungkook was contemplating calling someone for backup. Maybe Namjoon? Or Yoongi? Mayb- “First, you ruin my favorite bra! What were you doing in my apartment anyway? Trying to steal more stuff from my emergency snack supply?! Why can’t you just buy your own s-”

You definitely had a point about the snack stealing. But Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from going over and taking something that would undoubtedly attract your attention, because the last time that had happened, you both had ended up making out aggressively against the wall. 

“-and not just that!” You were clearly not done with being mad at him. “You go ahead and try to replace my favorite bra? With this???” You held up Jungkook’s purchase from earlier during the day.

“What’s wrong with this? It’s the same one, isn’t it? I went to the shop to make sure it was the same.” He didn’t really understand why this particular fact was making you so upset.

“You think this is the same?” You were standing very close to him and Jungkook gulped as he caught a whiff of your lavender body lotion.

“Yes?”

“You think my boobs are this small?? After the way you basically kneaded them with your hands last time??” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened, his face growing hotter with every word you were speaking.

“Why the fuck do you look like that?” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“L-like what?” His voice came out sort of strangled as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Like you’ve been caught eating the last cookie.”

Jungkook didn’t know how to respond to this. He was very aware of the fact that you were wearing a flimsy grey t-shirt and very old, very small, sleeping shorts. He gulped and wondered if this was some kind of dream that he’d suddenly wake up from.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make a move since you stuck your tongue down my throat last time. But nope! Nothing.” Now he knew that there was something wrong. This didn’t seem like the rational next line in a dialogue between real people who had just been in a, slightly one-sided, fight. “So, are you gonna kiss me or not?”

“W-what?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper at this point and you scoffed loudly before fisting your hands in his t-shirt and crashing your lips to his.

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but Jungkook was soon responding with impressive enthusiasm. His lips glided over yours with a desperation borne out of nearly two years of attraction and chemistry. He groaned in pleasure as your hands travelled into his hair, your fingers running through his freshly done curls. His hands travelled down your back before cupping your butt-cheeks and squeezing them until you moaned into his mouth. The feel of your body against his was enough to make him slowly lose his mind - but your tongue swiping into his mouth brought out a strangled noise from deep inside him. This was so much better than the first time you had both made out - there was more experience and knowledge of each other, and you seemed much more determined than the last time.

“Tell me what you want,” Jungkook’s voice came out huskier than you had ever heard, sending a surge of electricity to your core. “Tell me what makes you feel good, y/n.”

His voice was sultry and his body rock-hard at the perfect places - his breath falling in harsh pants as he recovered from the intensity of the kisses. But his eyes held the soft sincerity you had grown to lov-

“Against the wall,” you breathed, your face flushing as you verbalised your request. “And then on your bed.” You took one of his hands and placed it on your breast, firm with arousal, and guided his other hand to the waistband of your shorts. 

A beautiful pink blush dusted his cheeks as he captured your lips once again. He had you against the wall in seconds, his lips leaving a trail of devastation from your lips to your throat to your breasts. You moaned loudly as you felt his fingers rub against your clothed core while his tongue flicked over your nipples at a deliciously slow pace. 

“Gguk…” God he loved to hear that name coming from your lips. He loved it even more now that it was in the midst of him pleasuring you to the best of his ability. 

“Bed. I can’t… stand...” You managed to say. He obliged, placing his hands below your knees and scooping you up with ease, all while his lips kept pressing soft kisses to yours. 

Once on the bed, you removed your t-shirt and shorts, instructing him to do the same. Jungkook stared at your bare body for a moment, his eyes glazed with lust before he stripped himself of his clothes and continued kissing every part of your body he could find. 

Your insides were coiling, the heat growing at your core as you watched Jungkook’s magnificent, completely naked, body move over yours. Your hands itched to run over his abs but your eyes were fixed on his throbbing dick, your core growing wetter by the moment. 

“Can I?” Jungkook’s hoarse voice broke you out of your dilemma, his face hovering over your thighs. “Only if you want it, y/n.” You were pretty sure his soft, caring words would be enough for your undoing, but you nodded your head anyway.

The first swipe of his tongue against your core had you arching yourself off the mattress, your legs kicking up involuntarily. This was definitely where his gym prowess came in handy, as he held your thighs down with enough force for the feeling to be unbelievably pleasurable. Your hands found themselves in his curls once more, as his mouth alternated between dropping feather light kisses on your core and swiping along the wetness with a swipe of his tongue. 

“I-I’m not…” You didn’t have to complete the sentence as stars exploded in your vision, the high hitting you with more force than you had ever experienced. 

Something inside you tightened as you watched Jungkook emerge from between your thighs, his curls sweaty, and his mouth slick with your arousal. He smiled at you, dropping a light kiss on your lips, even as his dick stood red hot and angry with arousal.

“Can I help?” You asked, although your voice was hardly above a whisper, the tiredness seeping in, as you came down from the orgasm.

“Next time?” His voice was soft as he gave himself a few strong pumps before spilling onto his stomach. 

He grinned at you sheepishly. “I’m also kind of exhausted today.” Getting up quickly, he went into the bathroom and cleaned himself off, before coming back with a wet towel for you as well. 

You smiled shyly as you took the towel from him, wiping between your thighs quickly. 

Jungkook was beside you in a few moments, cuddling you from behind as sleep slowly overtook you both.

“Jungkook!” 

You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why someone was yelling at the crack of dawn. You were still pretty much wrapped up in Jungkook, both your legs entangled as your head rested on his chest while he snored softly.

“JUNGKOOK!”

A second, much louder, yell, woke Jungkook up as well. His eyes widening in alarm as he realised what was going on.

“It’s Tae! What’s he doing here?!” He whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Umm what?” You were panicking now. As much as you had been wanting things with Jungkook to pick up, you did not want Taehyung to find you both wonderfully naked after a night of wonderfulness. “He cannot see us like this! Not yet! I refuse to let this be how everyone finds out about us!”

“Jungkook, I’m coming in!”

Jungkook quickly pushed you below the covers, fluffing it up sufficiently to hide the fact that you were under it. He barely managed to close his eyes before Taehyung walked in, much too sprightly for this early in the morning.

“Aww!” His deep voice sounded through the room. “Jungkookie, are you still sleeping?”

Much to his horror, Taehyung made his way over to the bed, his long fingers smooshing Jungkook’s cheeks together as the poor boy tried to feign sleep.

“Did you sleep late last night?”

“Mph.”

“Jungkookie’s still sleepy? Aww!” The cheek smooshing continued, and Jungkook wondered how much longer you could stay hidden without Taehyung’s perceptiveness deducing that you were there.

“Hmmmm.” Jungkook managed to grunt out, tossing over to trap you underneath him.

“Okay, go back to sleep.” With one last cheek smoosh, Taehyung got up and left the room.

“Thank god!” Jungkook whispered in relief, pulling the covers off your face.

“I’m so glad he didn’t figure out I was here,” you sighed in relief. 

Jungkook grinned at you, his bunny teeth poking out adorably as he pulled you closer to him. You giggled, reaching up to place small kisses on each of his moles - there were 5 according to your last examination. 

“The curls are cute,” you said between kisses, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed contentedly, resting his forehead on yours. If it were up to him, he’d stay here forever.

“Oh and y/n-” You both stiffened as you heard Taehyung’s voice from the living room. Apparently, he hadn’t left yet. “-thanks a lot! Seokjin now owes me 50 bucks!”

please reblog this post if you enjoyed reading the story! thank you 😊 

[writersrealmbts]

Clearwater Springs: Part 1

Description: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: None

Posted: 08/29/2020

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, 

5,111 words

A/N: Once I was actually able to write, this came out really easily. I hope you guys enjoy it and don’t forget to do the pre-chapter 2 survey (link at the end of post)! 

You stared up at the house in a bit of a daze, still untethered. Still vulnerable.

“Isn’t it magnificent?! A real masterpiece, this house.”

You glanced at your over-enthusiastic caseworker, then looked back up at the grand Victorian house, wondering if the inside matched the outside, and why such a grand house was way out in the middle of nowhere. Why its owner would offer to take in strays, misfits, and others in need of a new home after the recent war when they were obviously still doing well despite the near economic collapse.

Your caseworker was practically bouncing up to the house, making you dizzy as he jostled the itty-bitty fountain you were temporarily tied to.

But you’d been dealing with that for a month, and you were getting pretty good at walking a straight line while the world appeared to spin around you.

“Now, if you and he agree at the end of the day, you’ll be tethered to a natural spring and the creek it runs into nearby, and you’ll stay in one of the spare rooms and you’ll help him organize and keep his library, which he runs as a traditional library—when organized—for some of the locals.”

You didn’t bother responding since he didn’t seem to be looking for a response, instead heavily trodding up to the front door as he rang the doorbell.

“Also, to simulate what life will be like, I’ll be leaving you for the day once I set your fountain down in a safe spot.”

“You said,” You murmured, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling yourself swaying from side to side. As a xana, you were originally tethered to a fountain many miles away, but as the war reached that town, your fountain had been damaged and your original workplace—a large library where you specialized in the children’s section, reading to them and singing your songs—utterly demolished. Because the fountain wasn’t completely destroyed, you survived. An experimental spell and three weeks later and there you were, standing on the steps of the home of a human where you would be exchanging work for a place to sleep and food to eat. You didn’t even need that much food, about a meal a day was enough for you when your tethered place was healthy and strong and not being jerked around like a dog was playing tug-of-war with it.

The front door opened, revealing a man with pink hair. “Hello, you must be Y/n. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Clearwater Springs.”

“We?” You asked, glancing at your worker.

The human did as well. “You told her about the house’s haltija, right?”

You relaxed. “Oh. Just a haltija?”

“Well, he’s also half-brownie, but thankfully that only manifests in the occasional clumsy or destructive moment. He’s quite friendly, though, and very fond of the forest,” The human spoke quickly, as though afraid you would pass negative judgement on the haltija—creatures who were known for guarding and protecting—for having brownie blood—admittedly, creatures who could become troublesome when disrespected, but otherwise also keepers of the home and chore-doers for the kind.

“I’m sure he’s very kind and gentle,” You replied.

“Right. And you’re a xana?”

You nodded.

“And...I’m sorry, I’m not sure what exactly that is, other than the fact that you’re generally tied to some form of pure water, like fountains, springs, rivers, waterfalls….”

You nodded. “I’m originally from a fountain. Um...I’m not sure how to explain what I am.”

Your caseworker took that hint. “Oh! Right, well, they seem to always know virtuous hearts through some test or other—though no one ever seems to be able to pin down the test—um, they have enchanted songs that bring feelings of peace and love to the pure and could almost kill those who are impure. Um, let’s see, she has combs made of moonbeams and sunlight, respectively. Can’t completely care for babies, but once they can feed themselves she’s fine.”

You frowned, fighting yourself not to glare at him. Your species couldn’t produce milk, so in the old days—before there was formula—it was a sort of changeling situation. A Xanino would replace a human child. Terrible, but true. Nowadays, most xaninos were adopted by naiads or other nature or house spirits—because now it was scandalous to try and raise your own child as a xana.

“Oh, she has treasure, but who knows where she keeps that—”

“It’s enchanted, you’re not supposed to know where I keep it,” You muttered, even though he wasn’t paying any attention to you.

“And she can give you a drink that we call ‘Love water’. Couldn’t tell you why, and I’ve never seen her hand it out. Think that’s it. Here’s her fountain, I’ll be back at sundown.”

The human almost dropped the fountain that was shoved into his hands, and if he wasn’t so surprised you thought he might have yelled at your caseworker.

But the car peeled down the driveway again, kicking up dirt.

You stared after him, a little disconcerted. “Mages.”

“Um, well, we’ve been preparing for your arrival. We’ve gotten the basement bathroom renovated so that you can shower or bathe in the waters of your spring when you need, and your bedroom is ready for you. We thought you’d prefer to decorate it with your things...but looking back now I probably should have known you wouldn’t have many things. It’s a hard time for everyone,” The human rambled, rubbing his neck. “Oh, I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose your name would be important. I’d hate to be rude and just refer to you as ‘The Human” when you’re my boss.”

Seokjin looked startled at the title. “I’d rather think of it as a partnership. I’ve been told I shouldn’t live alone, and you needed a new home. Also, my library is out of control and I have no idea where to start—I mean, other than the new library building that we just finished. Don’t worry, it’s very close to your water source as well, but your spring is still highly protected.”

You just nodded, wondering why he didn’t stare like most humans did. You were beautiful—that was one of the key points of defining a xana: being extraordinarily beautiful. Xana’s were considered more beautiful than any other species—and only a few other species even tried to contend with it since yours was more rare, and therefore more worth the attention.

“Um, let’s get inside so I can set this down. We’ll make sure Namjoon steers completely clear of it.” Seokjin stepped back and leaned his head in a gesture that suggested welcoming you inside and to follow him.

He led the way through the entry, and then to the living room through the arch immediately to the right. He took the fountain and placed it on a table that was against the wall—out of the way of general traffic. “There. Now, Namjoon should be around somewhere. Probably the garden, he likes it out there. But for now let me show you the house, including where you’ll be staying and then we’ll go and talk about the library. There’s a lot of work that I want to do, Namjoon is heavily involved in that too. He likes books, but between us...we don’t really have the skills to put what we want into action—which is why we’re really excited that you’re here.” He started the tour.

“I’ll do my best to h-hell, what is this hell?” You said, looking at the mess. It looked somewhat like a library, except you couldn’t even see the shelves. It was just piles upon piles of books, newspapers, journals, magazines, and comic books with a thin path between it all.

Seokjin winced. “It is...mildly organized. We’ve been receiving donations. Don’t worry, there will be a bigger place, we mostly just need to pack all of this up and move it to the new facility in an...organized fashion.”

You pointed at the mix of magazines and books. “This is organized.”

“I did say somewhat, didn’t I? We had a large influx of books very suddenly. Things got very messy in the chaos of it all. I think they were sending us books from destroyed libraries.” He shrugged a bit. “Don’t worry. We’ll be helping at every turn and I’m bringing in extra workers from town as needed.”

You supposed that was supposed to be comforting, but you were staring at a nightmare of a situation. One toppling tower, and there was no navigating through.

“Hyung? Is that you?” The pile asked.

Then it was all falling over and someone was diving out while Seokjin pulled you against the wall and out of the way.

Seokjin sighed. “Namjoon. Our guest is here.”

The man with blue hair looked up, then back at his legs (which were trapped under many books), then back at you. He stared at you with big eyes, looking a little flustered.

You took a deep breath. “Well, that is exactly what we didn’t want to happen.”

“Yeah. Namjoon, didn’t we talk about not going in there?” Seokjin bent down and grabbed Namjoon under the arms and pulled him out from the pile, helping him to his feet.

“I just wanted the next book in my series.” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “I was doing okay until then.”

Seokjin shook his head a bit. “Namjoonie, this is y/n. She’s the one that’s going to stay with us and help with the library?”

Namjoon was definitely already staring at you, and he looked a little flustered and red. “Hi.”

“She’s a xana. Y/n, this is Namjoon, the haltija of the house.”

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Namjoon said hurriedly.

“Nice to meet you, too,” You replied, trying for a smile, but you were pretty sure you just gave him a woozy look.

“Maybe you should lie down before we continue the house tour? He was jostling your fountain around quite a bit.” Seokjin frowned toward the front door.

Namjoon nodded. “He’s right. You need rest. I can tell.”

You shrugged. “Nah, the world is supposed to be constantly spinning.”

“Should I carry her? Should I carry you?” Seokjin asked, sounding and looking a little panicked.

You shrugged. “I’m fine. This has been my life for the past three months.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

Seokjin looked like he was going to have a meltdown.

“Unless you’re going to have a panic attack, in which case you may carry me if it will help you,” You said quickly, concerned with how quickly he was freaking out.

Namjoon glanced at the human, then nodded. “I think that might be the only way to stall him out. He’s not wearing his glasses.”

You shrugged again, uncertain what not having glasses had to do with anything, and waited while Namjoon muttered something to Seokjin.

A couple moments later, Seokjin came over, muttering something about being sorry, then he carefully scooped you up. “Sorry, your dress is a little slippery. Silk?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My clothes just sort of...appear as I need them? Usually made of silk, but sometimes there’s a velvet cloak when it’s colder. Some linen when it’s warmer. Always dresses.”

“Cool,” Namjoon said, following the two of you up the stairs.

“I suppose so,” You replied, doing your best not to look at Seokjin. He was handsome for a human. And you’d never seen a non-fairy pull off pink hair before today. He had a sort of gentleness to his face, a softness that could easily become cold and judgemental. If that even made sense.

But honestly, there were very few things that made sense since the war had begun some ten years ago.

“Why is your hair blue?” You asked the haltija, looking over Seokjin’s shoulder as you realized you had been looking at him despite specifically thinking you shouldn’t and only noticing because his ears had started turning a violent shade of red.

“Oh...uh...we’re not really sure. It just sort of...changes now and then. A few days ago I woke up and it was this color. Before that it had been brown.”

“Did you two paint any part of the house?”

“Well, not in the same time frame as my hair color changing. And definitely not this color. Jin-hyung has this crazy theory that it’s connected to my soulmate or something.”

“You have a soulmate?” You asked, surprised.

He nodded, rubbing his left shoulder-pectoral area, which meant either his mark was located there or he had some muscle pain from his dive for freedom in the great August book-slide. “Yeah. Or...well, I have multiple sections in my mark...so, I guess I’m part of a soul-group. Probably a platonic one given my species.”

“You never know what’s waiting around the riverbend,” You replied, thinking back to Grandma Loire’s wise words when you had been fretting about the war. Granted, at that time, her words had been very wrong, but you wouldn’t begrudge the dead for their mistakes.

But also thinking about your own soulmark and the multiple parts in it. You were certain it was just a coincidence, but it was still an interesting fact that you filed away.

“You sound like a naiad,” Namjoon snorted.

“A naiad told me that. She was very wrong at the time. Told me not to worry about the battle in Manhattan.”

“Ooh,” He winced. “Very wrong.”

Seokjin held onto you a little tighter. “Where did you live before this?”

“Rocamadour. Our library was new when I started working there. Before there were a couple but they were in some towns over.”

“Where is that?” Namjoon asked.

“It’s in the Alps,” Seokjin answered, then paused at the top of the stairs. “Get the door?”

The door swung open before Seokjin had finished asking.

You craned your head to look at Namjoon, suddenly concerned with your privacy.

He held up his hands. “I can open doors and windows, I can’t see through walls. I can also hear things, if you want me to. If you want me to hear, just knock or tap your foot three times and I’ll listen.”

You nodded slightly and relaxed again.

Seokjin carried you into the room, which was painted such a calm color. The bed was a queen-size, and it was soft when he lay you in the middle of it. The top blanket was velvet-y and so, so soft.

Namjoon gave you a smile when you let out a sound of appreciation.

Seokjin smiled at you. “Well, I’m going to find out whether he’s coming back to check in on you tonight or not while you rest, then we’ll go over other things and go to the spring. Feel free to go anywhere in the house, as long as it isn’t one of our bedrooms. Mine is on the first floor, Namjoon’s is across the hall. Food in the kitchen is up for grabs unless it’s in the meal-plan that I have on the fridge. Oh, that door there leads to your bathroom, the one next to it leads to your closet, and this third door leads to your sitting room or office or whatever you want to use it for. We’ll let you nap now.”

Namjoon dipped his head as Seokjin pushed and pulled him out of your bedroom door.

You stared at the closed door for a moment, then lay back. You were still so accustomed to sleeping on your fountain or in your fountain that this felt weird. But it felt weird in a heavenly sort of way. You slid up and then managed to slide under the covers, a little excited about the silk sheets. It was so nice.

So heavenly that you woke up feeling so refreshed that it had to be illegal. Sure, you still felt a little off (because the fountain you were temporarily tethered too wasn’t the greatest), but you felt much better than before.

You slid out of the sheets, enjoying the feel of the hardwood on your feet as you cautiously checked out your bathroom, closet, and sitting room (which only had an armchair and a small sofa). Once you had tested the seats (because you had to know which would be your favorite, it was the armchair), you ventured out into the hallway.

Namjoon’s door was open, but you didn’t hear anything in there, so you decided not to bother him.

Instead, you headed back the way you had been carried, looking around for more detail.

The structure of the house, the woodwork, the moulding, the baseboards and the stairway all had a distinctly Victorian style, and all were likely original to the house. But the design was more subtle, softer, and more contemporary in the coloring and the furniture. It was a nice sort of mix that gave the house an air of elegance that was refreshing. You’d been in some victorian-style homes before and they had been so overwhelmingly Victorian that it was like you were trapped in England in that time period and about to choke on a piece of jellied eel.

You avoided the pile of books spilling out of the library (but did notice that they’d been somewhat cleaned up), and checked out the living room again with the ulterior motive of checking on your current fountain.

The style was even more contemporary there, yet still paid a nice homage to the house. A monochrome color scheme, with pops of color in some of the throw pillows and delicate accents in the artwork.

Your fountain looked cleaner than ever and had a healthy amount of water in it for once, which you honestly felt boded well for you. There even seemed to be a new coating of pebbles at the bottom of the small basin.

You flinched as a cat hopped up onto the table next to the fountain and took a drink from it. It was young, a long-haired calico, so soft and pretty looking.

You let it sniff your hand, humming softly before you carefully picked it up. You snuggled it, happy when it seemed to revel in your attention, even seeking it when you started looking over the books that were seperated from the library and on the shelf beside the fireplace. There weren’t many, but you recognized one or two of the titles, and the taste there seemed to vary widely. You figured they were probably books from both of the boys, and left them as they were to go try and find the kitchen for a glass of water.

The office was nearby, but didn’t look like it got used as an office very often, but definitely seemed to have a gaming station in one corner.

You found the billiard’s room next, noting that there was a ping-pong table folded up in a corner. It seemed pretty abandoned, clean, but not nearly as used.

Then a smell permeated the air, drawing you back toward soft noise and even softer humming, murmured conversation and the sizzling of something cooking.

You peeked into the large kitchen, smiling when you saw Namjoon reading in one corner, and Seokjin cooking at the stove. Namjoon seemed to be explaining the book to Seokjin, quietly passionate about it.

Seokjin was smiling and humming, possibly more focused on what he was cooking, but still seeming to hear what Namjoon was saying.

“Smells good,” You said quietly, slipping completely into the room. Trying not to disturb the aura.

Seokjin turned and grinned at you. “Hey! You look like you feel better.”

You nodded. “That bed is heavenly. And thank you for cleaning the fountain.”

He shrugged. “It looked like it had been neglected for a while. Namjoon found some pebbles for it as well because he read that once they’ve been exposed to the tether it can make a transition easier, theoretically.”

Namjoon looked embarrassed, rubbing his neck. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try it out.”

“That was very thoughtful,” You told him, smiling at him as well.

He was bright red after that.

Seokjin chuckled. “I’ll have dinner ready soon. Then I thought we could head down to the new library building, and then maybe go into town. There isn’t much, but I do need to pick up some things.”

You took the seat that Namjoon offered. “That sounds like a plan. Who’s the kitty?”

“Oh, that’s Parsley. She followed us home one day and has been here ever since.” Namjoon pet the cat carefully. “She’s a good mouser, so we just sort of created a pact that as long as she keeps us pest free, we’ll keep her pest-free.”

“She’s a cutie,” You said, pressing your cheek against the soft fur and enjoying the soothing vibrations of her purr. It was just one of the many things that made you feel so comfortable here. That and both men seemed relatively impervious to your enchanting beauty, which was refreshing. It gave you hope that this would work out. That you wouldn’t always be free-floating.

“She is. Do you know anything about this bird that practically forced it’s way into our house?” Seokjin asked, pointing toward the ceiling.

You leaned to the left to look at the little black and white fluff-ball. “Was wondering when he would show up. He’s been following me for a while. Don’t know why, but he seems to have formed an attachment. Whether he feels like conversing is a completely different matter.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Not that he’ll tell me.”

Namjoon started laughing.

Seokjin gave you an exasperated look. “What do you call him?”

“Fluffball, marshmallow, cotton swab, cotton ball, cotton candy, fairy floss—he really doesn’t like that one—squishy, fluffy, Caspar, and Leo.” You shrugged. “Like I said, he won’t tell me his name. Just what his name isn’t.”

“So, none of those are his name?”

“Well, fairy floss isn’t. I’ve gotten to the point where I think he’s just waiting for someone else to settle on a name for him—preferably one he likes.”

“And until then, he’s just going to come and go as he pleases?”

You shrugged again, holding it for a while.

Namjoon was still laughing, his smile revealing some adorable dimples.

“So...is he a magical bird?”

You looked up at your feathered friend, and resisted the urge to shrug once more. “Maybe?”

Seokjin huffed. “What does he eat?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. He always leaves to eat. Sometimes I’d see him eating bird-seed, but mostly he just flies off and comes back well-fed. I think he eats insects.”

“Great. He can deal with the mosquitos.” Seokjin spared the bird a glance, then dished up the food. “The store might have some insects we can get for him, just in case. You never know. They always have weird things.”

“Really?” You looked forlornly after the kitty as it leaped off and disappeared through another doorway. “Is it a magic shop?”

“Well….”

“We told you that Jin-hyung is the only human in town, didn’t we?” Namjoon asked, eyes widened slightly. “Everyone who lives in the area is magical to some extent, except for hyung.”

You shook your head, a little stunned. “No. No you did not tell me that.”

But man was that an idea to wrap your head around.

Seokjin shrugged, having plated up the food. “This is a pretty popular place for refugees. Sort of remote and accepting of different species. A nice place to make a fresh start.”

“But...you’re the only human. Doesn’t that get...I don’t know...lonely?”

He blinked at you, then shook his head and shrugged. “No? I have Namjoonie, and now you’re here too. And yeah, I’m outnumbered, but they’ve never held my species against me. I mean, that’s probably because I did sort of pay for the whole town, which isn’t much. But more people come each day, and some people move on to other places once they’ve gotten back onto their feet. It’s like an adventure, meet some new characters, help them on their journey, then return home to sleep in a big, soft, bed with a full belly.”

And maybe the look of genuine happiness on his face was just a little too alluring.

Maybe you were just desperate to belong somewhere, because when he included you...it was like the world lit up.

And no, you were not tearing up.

His hand covered yours, warmth spreading from his touch to the mark that was hidden under the sleeve of your dress as he smiled warmly at you. “I really do hope that this place becomes your home. Everyone deserves to have a home.”

And then he was moving away, maybe not even aware that he was one of your soulmates since he was human.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Namjoon quickly complied with Seokjin’s words, but you were slower to follow, trying to figure out how all of this had come about.

“I heard that a new van full of people arrived yesterday, so I want to see if I can meet any of them. See if we still have enough housing for everyone. That might mean a couple people staying with us in the house if there isn’t enough housing. Is that okay?”

You nodded, just following their actions, but not taking as much food as they did. Mostly because you didn’t need much food to survive, but it smelled good. So good, and Seokjin did cook it himself.

“Alright, then it’s a plan. Eat, see the new library, go to the store, meet people, come home.” Seokjin nodded firmly at the end of the list, then seemed to remember something. “And talk to your mage-handler and see about tethering you to the spring. That’s probably more important. We can do the other things tomorrow if we have to, but the tethering should be done sooner rather than later. That is, if you want to be tethered to the spring. You wouldn’t necessarily have to live here your whole life, we could always get you your own home, it would just—”

“Living here is fine, and yes, I would like to be tethered to the spring,” You said quickly, noticing how his speech was deteriorating. “I just have one question.”

“Oh?” He looked so genuinely concerned, leaning forward in his seat.

“Namjoon said you wear glasses, so...have you actually seen me?”

Namjoon snickered.

Seokjin’s ears turned bright red. “Um. Yes. Yes I can see you. I have seen you. I’m seeing you. I, um, I put in my, um, contacts. I can see you quite clearly. Also, I could see you when I was closer. Just, not after a certain distance. And yes, we do plan on actively protecting you when we go out.”

You nodded. “Just curious.”

Namjoon paused after swallowing. “The mage is back.”

Seokjin sighed. “So, town tomorrow then. I’ll go let him in. I suppose this means I need to offer him dinner?”

“That would be the polite thing,” Namjoon said, gleefully.

Seokjin muttered as he left the room.

“He’s...unusual for a human,” You commented.

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. He is. But he’s one of the best human’s I’ve ever met. We’re really glad you’re going to stay with us, Y/n. I hope you never regret your choice.”

“I hope so too.” But you didn’t think you would.

Namjoon turned toward the door, eyes narrowed slightly before rolling his eyes. “Can you help me cover the food? Apparently Mr. Mage is insisting on doing the tethering now if you agree to it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up to help him cover all three plates and the platters and bowls with tin foil to possibly retain some warmth. You highly doubted you’d be eating again that evening since tethering made you impossibly nauseous and sleepy. “I won’t be very coherent after the tethering.”

He nodded. “We’ll make sure you get back here and into bed safely, or into the tub downstairs.”

You nodded, then followed him out to where Seokjin was listening to your mage, looking strained.

“Ah, so, have you decided whether you wish to be tethered to the spring here or not?”

“I have decided to be tethered, yes.” Anything to not be in his careless hands anymore.

“Excellent! I’ll get the fountain!”

“How about I grab it, that way your hands are free to do the actual spell,” Jin quickly intervened. “Namjoon can lead the way back to the mouth of the spring.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as the mage agreed to it. At least Seokjin would be careful.

“Alright, then lets head to this spring! I’d love to be on the road before dark.”

Namjoon’s chin jutted out slightly.

Seokjin just gave a pained smile, nodding. “Yes. Driving after dark is a pain. Namjoon. Lead the way.”

And you weren’t about to tell on Namjoon when you saw one of the floorboards pop up to trip the mage, because you kind of felt somewhat vindicated.

The forest around the house was made up primarily of spruces, firs, pines, and hemlocks with birches, oaks, and red maples popping through here and there. The path that the four of you took (with a little fluffball following overhead and a calico furball following behind curiously) was discreet, yet also fairly well-worn. As though walked often, but also well-cared for.

It was quiet, with varying degrees of density—some areas providing a wide view of the rest of the forest, and other areas being so dense that you couldn’t see a foot past the nearest tree.

Namjoon followed the path for a while, then diverged into the forest down what appeared to be a game-trail, something not walked often.

Then you could sense the water. It’s purity, it’s cleanliness. Free and untethered.

The creek was beautiful, and all of you followed it to the head of the spring.

You grinned when you saw it, a thrill going through you. It was beautiful and so clean and lovely and it was going to be yours.

Seokjin set your fountain down so that the mage could prepare the spell, then came over to you. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked into his eyes, the eyes of one of your soulmates, and nodded. “I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, a little more carefree now.

You hoped you’d have the courage to talk about soulmates with him someday, but today you were going to have your soul ripped from a tiny fountain and sewn back into a spring. You only had so much courage.

And then the mage started the spell.

--

Survey Results used for this chapter: 

Namjoon-Blue (haltija), Seokjin-Pink (human), You-Cyan (xana) 

Silk, Book-Librarian, Creek-what your water source is attached to, House/Apartment/Mansion, Style-Victorian & Contemporary, view-boreal/boreal-mix forest, calico kitty, white bird with black wings, 

Whoops-meet Seokjin first, Oh No-meet Namjoon second, LaLaLa-C (some friends, some strangers), Loyalty-Soulmate au, Black-War tore through and you're all in relief housing situation.

--

Pre-Chapter 2 Survey

Next.

Masterlist.  ot7 Masterpost.

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Taglist: @missmoxxiesworld​  @bryvada​  @i-dont-even-know-fck​ @knjhe​ @alex--awesome--22  @kerikaaria​ @killcomet​ @letsreadbts​ @taestannie​

[hermannsthumb]

Idk if you doing requests or not rn buut, feriowind has been posting a bunch of vampire!Hermann and I needs some modern vampire Hermann and professor Newt...

uwu ily

SO I feel like I should open by saying a WIP fic with this concept by @coloredpencilroses exists and I Love it, so read High Stakes for something much better than this lol (and leave a nice comment). HAPPY OCTOBER!!!! warning for very mildly implied sexy stuff. EDIT: and of COURSE I forgot to tag @theloccent for my extremely belated fill for the “Vampire” square on my bingo card :/

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

Newt has always been an extremely persistent type. He considers it, naturally, one his greatest strengths—no theory goes untested, no question goes unanswered, no experiment goes…well, unexperimented. You don’t get more PhDs than you can count on one hand if you’re not persistent. You don’t get a date with the hot new engineering professor down the hall if you’re not persistent, either, but Newt is finding this venture is taking a little more effort than usual. That’s fine, though. He likes challenges.

Dr. Gottlieb was hired by the university at the start of the semester, after the head of the engineering department—who’s nearing her seventies—finally decided she’d had enough and announced her retirement somewhat last minute. He is, frankly, unlike anyone Newt’s ever seen before, a weird combination of cheekbones, wide lips, and a turn-of-the-century old-fashioned air that carries over into everything from his wardrobe to the stiff way he carries himself. He wouldn’t look out of place in a black and white photograph, Newt thinks. Or maybe even the illustrations of a Dickens novel. That’s not why Newt’s into him, though—well, not the only reason why.

In the entire month and a half Gottlieb’s been here, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone his contract doesn’t require him to; when he is forced into conversation, he scowls and snaps and mumbles his way through before making a polite excuse as to why he needs to leave the room right now, immediately. No one knows anything about him other than the bare minimum—that his name is Dr. Gottlieb, he lectures in engineering, and he exists. Shit, Newt doesn’t even know his first name. The little plaque outside his office just says Gottlieb.

The mystery just makes Gottlieb all the more alluring to Newt.

Anyway, his continued failures in winning Gottlieb over aren’t a result of a lack of trying. On Gottlieb’s first day, Newt stopped by his office to introduce himself. He didn’t bother knocking. Maybe that was his first mistake. “I’m Newt,” he said. “My office is a few doors down from you. You’re the new department head?”

Gottlieb looked stricken, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t say anything else.

“Cool,” Newt said. “Anyway, I’m technically in the bio department, but I teach a few interdisciplinary courses with engineering, so I requested they stick me over here to get a bigger office.” He cracked a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb said.

Newt tried again the next day.

“Your office is so dark,” he said, conversationally, because it was—lights all off, books stacked up everywhere, maroon drapes drawn tightly in front of the single small window. Dark and stuffy. “Feel free to stop by my office whenever you want a break from it. I have a corner one, so I have two windows.”

“I requested this office,” Gottlieb said, not looking up the article he was marking up.

Newt became desperate by his third attempt and did something that’s left him burning with shame even now, weeks later, and that would probably warrant the immediate transfers of sleep-deprived engineering majors out of all his courses if word ever got out it was him: he deliberately broke the department coffee machine. “Man, I can’t believe that thing is busted again,” he declared to Gottlieb. “Good thing I have a Keurig in my office.” Newt had gone out and purchased a Keurig immediately before destroying the coffee pot. “Seriously, come by whenever you need caffeine.”

Gottlieb blinked at him, long and slow, and Newt had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what happened to the coffee pot. “I never drink… coffee,” Gottlieb finally said.

For all Newt’s troubles, the list of things he knows about Gottlieb has expanded by two pitiful points: that his accent is English and posh, and his voice is low and sexy. Helpful.

It’s a chilly day in late October when Newt finally decides to enlist the aid of his interdisciplinary undergrads. Some of them—he learned after poking around their registration records—have a seminar with Gottlieb, and they seem his best bet at learning anything. A spouse—a first name—Newt would take Gottlieb’s favorite color, even. “So,” he starts class, unwinding his scarf off his neck, “that Dr. Gottlieb sure is weird, huh?”

In Newt’s firsthand experience, undergrads love to gossip about their professors, and his certainly don’t disappoint. Gottlieb’s classes are all held in the basement of the engineering building. All run well into the evening, after the sun’s set—most not finished until nine—and Gottlieb hustles out of the lecture hall the moment he can. He walks with a cane and a slight limp. He always dresses like that. He’s never mentioned any sort of family, and wears no wedding ring. He’s scary good at math. No one knows his first name.

“You’ve been an invaluable help,” Newt tells them all seriously.

He mulls the new information over in his office later as he grades some tests. So Gottlieb is a bit of shy, reclusive, genius. No surprise there. Well, his apparent hatred of sunlight is kind of weird (if unsurprising, given how pale he is) but maybe he just has sensitive eyes or something. Who is Newt to judge? At least he knows how to improve his next plan of attack—he just has to ask the guy to come over and sit in a dark room in silence with him. That’s probably Gottlieb’s dream date, actually.

There’s a knock on Newt’s office door. Newt looks up and drops his pen: it’s Gottlieb.

“Uh. Hey, dude!” he squeaks, unsure of how to proceed in this entirely unfamiliar territory. Gottlieb, willingly interacting with him? Willingly leaving his office? “Is there…can I help you with something? Did you want that coffee after all?”

“Most definitely not,” Gottlieb says coolly. He’s standing far enough back from the door that not a single sliver of lamp light from Newt’s office hits him, instead shrouded by the shadows of the dark engineering department. Newt didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “My students informed me that you were interrogating them about me.”

It’s not a question. Newt is struck by a wave of nervousness that he doesn’t quite understand—maybe it’s the sour expression Gottlieb is giving him, something in those dark brown eyes that are piercing through Newt. He feels, foolishly and briefly, like cowering under his desk. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, and adds, stammering, “I mean—I wasn’t interrogating them. I was just asking a few questions.”

“Why?” Gottlieb says.

“Uh,” Newt says. “I guess I was…curious, about you?”

He works up the guts to look Gottlieb in the eyes; he sees Gottlieb’s eyebrows jump the tiniest fraction of an inch. “You’re attracted to me,” Gottlieb says, another non-question, though Newt hears a flicker of surprise.

“Yeah,” Newt admits.

“I see,” Gottlieb says. Then, to Newt’s surprise, he suddenly smiles. “I’d like if you invited me over for dinner, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Dinner,” Newt says. He feels strangely dizzy; but, shaking himself, he quickly gets over it. “I mean, dinner! Yes! Shit! When?”

“Tonight, I should think,” Hermann says.

Tonight is Friday, which means they don’t have work tomorrow. By the time they make it off campus it’ll be almost ten—way later than people eat dinner—and besides, Newt already had a sandwich at around seven. Is dinner a euphemism? Is Gottlieb propositioning him? God, why didn’t he wash his sheets with the laundry this week? “Tonight,” Newt says. He stands up abruptly and grabs his leather jacket with trembling fingers. Why is he trembling? Nerves, he guesses. He’s about to hook up with total hottie Dr. Gottlieb, he’s allowed to be nervous. “Fuck yes. Let’s go now.”

Gottlieb is not impressed with the messy state of Newt’s apartment, and even less impressed with the state of Newt’s refrigerator and freezer. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets and canned Lime-A-Ritas,” he says with a sniff. “Hm. You ought to be getting more vitamins, Dr. Geiszler. I’m certain you’re deficient in something.”

“You sound like my dad,” Newt snorts. He throws his car keys on the counter and shrugs off his jacket. “There’s some leftover Chinese on the second shelf if you want it—just some lo mein. Or I could put a frozen pizza in the oven. Or I guess we could order something too?”

Gottlieb shuts the fridge door delicately. “How kind of you to offer,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he means it. Newt is suddenly struck by how bizarre a sight he is in the midst of Newt’s chaotic kitchen: buttoned up to the throat with his stupid shirt and blazer, prodding at the fraying lime lizard-shaped rug by the sink with the end of his ornately-handled cane. Out of time and out of place. 

“It’s Newt,” Newt says. “Please don’t call me Dr. Geiszler, it makes me feel ancient.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb says.

“And what,” Newt says, deciding to test his luck a little, “uh—what should I call you?”

Gottlieb considers him. “Hermann,” he says.

The name rings a bell in the back of Newt’s head. He swears he’s heard it somewhere before—an article, maybe. A book. Has he stumbled across Dr. Gottlieb’s research before without even realizing it? He’s on the verge of asking what publications Gottlieb’s been featured in when Gottlieb suddenly snags hold of his hand; then, raising it to his mouth, he kisses it. His lips are as cold as his skin. “Would you like to show me to your quarters, Newton?” he murmurs.

Newt shivers; he nods.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” Newt says aloud later, while Hermann redresses himself. “Now I know where I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yes?” Hermann says. He’s lacing up one of his Oxfords.

“I worked with his research in one of my dissertations,” Newt says. “Another Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, I mean. He was a brilliant mathematician from—God, 1830-something. German. His work was groundbreaking for the time, or shit, for our time, too.” He remembers seeing a portrait of that Hermann Gottlieb in one of his sources; the whole of the similarities between him and Newt’s Hermann Gottlieb (the dark eyes, the mouth, the cheekbones) are a little too much to be entirely coincidental. “You must be related to him, right? Like, he’s your great-great-great—”

“Yes,” Hermann cuts him off quickly. He turns to Newt and smiles. “A distant ancestor, certainly. I believe you are the first in some time to have made that connection.”

“Always thought he was cool,” Newt yawns. “Man, I’m tired.” The romp with Hermann had been fun, if not unexpectedly exhausting, and a little…out of the ordinary. The dude apparently has some sort of weird biting kink that left Newt’s neck stinging a little bit, but it’s cool, Newt doesn’t mind. It was like boning a vampire or something. Kinda hot. “Do you need me to show you to the door, or can I just stay here? I’m serious about spending the night though. I really don’t mind.”

Hermann fiddles with the laces of his other shoe, then, slowly, draws the whole thing back off. “If it’s not an imposition,” he says, and smiles again, shyly. “Though, I warn you—I’m a bit of a late sleeper.”

“Good, so I am,” Newt says. “Could you toss me the sweatshirt hanging on that chair? You can grab one for yourself too, if you’re cold, I’ve got another hanging in the closet. No, not--yeah, that door.”

They dip under the covers and get cozy, Newt taking on the task of big spoon, because Hermann is a cold sonofabitch and could use a little insulation. The last thought on his mind before he drifts off to a comfortable sleep is how strange it is he can’t feel Hermann’s heartbeat—though, he realizes, it’s probably just muffled by their clothing.

[psychosistr]

Green-Eyed Monsters- Chapter 6

Summary: On their way home, Steelbeak gets a lecture about why you shouldn’t knowingly drink spiked beverages and Dominic gets an embarrassing answer to a question he didn’t even think to ask...as well as more questions that he still needs answered..

Notes: Just a little interlude before we get into the emotional reconciliation of the final chapter.

-First Chapter-

“-most stupid, idiotic ideas you’ve EVER had!” Dominic’s voice was loud enough to be heard clearly over the roar of the flashy car’s powerful engine and the barely-audible music coming from the radio, even from outside the vehicle. “Why in the world would you knowingly drink not just one, but SEVERAL cocktails laced with who-knows-what?! It could have been arsenic, for all you knew!”

While the lecture certainly sounded harsh, in Dominic’s defense, he’d been quietly seething and biting his tongue for hours before finally getting to unleash the full brunt of his accumulated frustration from the evening’s events. After that two-faced femme-fatale had left them to deal with escaping on their own, the deadly duo had found themselves quite busy escaping the mansion (with the assistance of Emelia’s mattress that they’d thrown out the window to cushion their fall so they could jump from the upper floor more safely), sneaking past security, and speeding off in their getaway-car before security could close off the property. Once they’d escaped, the loon’s top priority had been getting medical attention for his partner, so he’d pushed aside his lingering irritation until one of FOWL’s doctors had cleared Steelbeak and given them the green-light to go home together (the metal-mouthed fowl would be dizzy, nauseous, and possibly have some memory loss the next day, but seemed like he’d recover with some bed rest and medicine provided by the doctor).

Now that they were heading home, however, now he had a perfect opportunity to unleash the rant that had been building since they’d left the mansion.

“Didn’t taste like almonds..” Steelbeak, currently seated in the passenger’s seat of his Lincoln Continental and leaning against the door so he could get the full benefit of the air coming in through the open window, seemed either too out of it, too bored, or too much of both to really be bothered by the volume of his partner’s voice. “Sides, I’ve had worse than a little rope slipped in my drink……give the guy makin’ ‘em some credit for waitin’ ‘til I ordered thicker drinks t’ start goin’ heavier with the pills- couldn’t see ‘em in those..”

The loon’s eyebrow twitched in agitation and he was fairly certain that the scowl on his face would become permanent at this rate. “Here’s a thought: How about NOT showing admiration towards the people who try to drug and murder you? It’s a novel concept, I know, but I think you’d benefit from it!”

Steelbeak’s eyes did their best attempt to roll upon hearing the other man’s sarcastic tone, but they only made it about halfway before giving up and closing. “Never said I admired ‘im…just sayin’ the guy knew what he was doin’…” A quiet groan rumbled in his chest as he rubbed his head, the dizziness still a prevalent symptom he was combating. “You’re makin’ this way bigger than it needs t’ be..ain’t like nothin’ happened-”

Successfully rolling his own red eyes, the darker fowl tried to continue. “Because-”

“-‘cause you were watchin’ out for me.” It was hard to tell if the slightly less coherent man actually knew what the loon was about to say or if he’d been in the middle of saying it to begin with. Either way, his partner let him continue explaining himself; if nothing else, it gave his throat a break and allowed him to prepare for the next round of ranting. “You were watchin’ me like a hawk all night…didn’ really have a way t’ avoid drinkin’ it without lettin’……whatever ‘er name was-”

“Emelia.” Dominic felt a small swell of delight in hearing that the lighter bird couldn’t even remember that conniving carnivore’s name, but he didn’t allow it to show as he kept his eyes on the road and his scowl firmly in place.

“Yeah..her…” Steelbeak gave a slight nod, but couldn’t be bothered to repeat the word. “Couldn’t get outta drinkin’ it without her knowin’ I was ont’ her……but, figured you were watchin’ an’ you’d follow me…” Dark grey eyes finally opened half way, his previous wave of dizziness subsiding for the moment. “Nothin’ else, figured Mara’d follow me like in Rio an’ you’d go after her..”

Whatever slight bit of improvement Dominic’s mood had taken was stripped away at the mere mention of that aggravating double-agent. “Oh, so you were expecting HER to rescue you? Well then, maybe I should have just let you two have your fun since you clearly enjoyed her company so much.”

“Ha! I trust that broad ‘bout as far as she can throw me.” Dark grey eyes glanced at the tight grip the other man had on the steering wheel. “Don’t get why you’re so worked up ‘bout ‘er…she’s not THAT bad…”

Red eyes gave a brief, irritated roll before focusing on the road once more. “Oh, wow, I wonder how I could possibly have a problem with some woman dancing and flirting with my partner all night.” Before he could say anything else on the matter, Dominic was startled when said partner started to laugh hysterically. Caught somewhere between insulted and mildly concerned- he wasn’t sure if this may have been a side-effect of the drugs still affecting Steelbeak’s mood and mental stability- the loon pondered the idea of pulling over to either check on the other man’s health or possibly slap him, depending on what the situation called for.

“You think she was FLIRTIN’ with me?!” The rooster managed to gasp out between fits of laughter, holding his sides as if in pain from the hilarity of the situation. That annoyingly nasal laugh of his was all that could be heard for a solid minute, acting as if this was the funniest thing he’d heard in ages. Just as Dominic was ready to pull the car over and give the overly-gleeful fowl a piece of his mind, Steelbeak managed to get a full sentence out that took him a moment to decipher: “Deedee, she’s ‘bout as interested in me, as you’d be in her.”

When the weight of those words finally sunk in, Dominic felt like he would have smacked himself in the forehead if both hands weren’t still tightly gripping the steering wheel.

A lesbian.

He’d spent a good portion of the evening feeling one-upped and threatened by a lesbian.

Face burning with shame beneath his dark feathers, the aquatic avian decided to deflect his embarrassment with a mask of frustration (not that it was that hard to pull off given their earlier conversation). “Why didn’t you just tell me that from the beginning?”

Having finally gotten over his laughing fit but still sporting an amused grin, Steelbeak slumped back down against the passenger-side door with a shrug. “Ya didn’t ask.” He covered his mouth around a yawn, his previous bout of activity apparently tiring him out again.

“I shouldn’t have to ask.” Dominic shook his head, sparing a less harsh look at the lighter fowl once they’d reached a stop light. “You need to give me any intel that could be vital to our mission. I need to know these things- we’re partners.”

In the few seconds his red eyes glanced away to make sure the light hadn’t changed color, the sharpshooter missed the expression that accompanied Steelbeak’s quiet, slightly disappointed tone of voice. “Is that all we are…?” By the time he looked back to ask for clarification, Dominic saw the other’s dark eyes had closed and he was sound asleep.

Left confused and uncertain once again about Steelbeak’s apparent displeasure regarding their partnership, Dominic sighed and swallowed his words for the time being. They’d have to talk about this when the other man WASN’T recovering from an overdose of mind-altering substances.

<--Previous Chapter Next Chapter-->

End Notes: Short chapter is short, sorry ^.^” Despite its shortness, I hope you guys still enjoyed the little moments of Domino getting to lecture Steelbeak before feeling embarrassed of his own misplaced jealousy xD

[srhlsx]

CHAPTER 24

master | ch. 23 | ch. 25

Walking down the mildly busy streets and pulling his scarf and coat a little tighter around himself, Oikawa noted the air of tension surrounding his closest friend. Since the school dance a few days prior, Iwaizumi has been in a particular mood and Oikawa had a feeling he knew why.

“Iwa, care to share what’s got you sulking?” He tried to be playful with his words, hoping a joking tone would help his friend to open up a little more than he normally would want to.

Iwaizumi let out a huff of air, the cool weather making it come out as a cloudy plume as he continued to walk. His face scrunched up a little more than usual as he worked through the frustrating thoughts in his mind. He knew he’d been pretty obvious with his poor attitude lately, huffing around and scowling more than usual. Except around you - something Oikawa picked up on.

When Iwaizumi didn’t answer after a few moments, Oikawa decided to press things a little more. “Could it be about (Y/n)?” He questioned, hands in his pockets as he turned to walk backwards to face his friend. “Maybe a little conversation that happened at the dance?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up. “Did she tell you?”

“No,” Oikawa shook his head, turning back around to walk forward again. “But we all clearly interrupted something and you’ve been grumpy ever since.”

“I’m not grump-”

“You are,” Oikawa interrupted bluntly. “And without volleyball to take it out on, you have been especially prickly.”

Iwaizumi grunted, pulling his hard gaze away from his friend to look more down at his feet as they took one step after another. “I…” He started, not overly enthused about the idea of sharing such personal information with the Drama King himself, but seeing no way out of it. He started again, “I kind of laid it all out there for her… and she hasn’t said anything.”

“Mmm,” Oikawa nodded thoughtfully. “Kind of like how she felt- ow! Iwa!” Oikawa rubbed the spot on his shoulder where Iwaizumi had thrown a half-assed punch. He glared over at his friend, then turned away with his nose in the air. 

“You think she’s making me wait because of what I did?” Iwaizumi looked almost nervous, fearful at the idea that you would play him like that.

“Oh my God,” Oikawa was actually the one to roll his eyes at his friend this time. “(Y/n) is cold but she is not spiteful, do you even know her at all?”

The comment made Iwaizumi glare away from his friend, of course he knew you. It was just that the idea of him putting himself out there the way he did, after everything, had him terrified. But what had he been thinking, doing it the way he did? Things were nothing short of complicated between the two of you and he surely didn’t help at all with the words he said to you in the quiet school courtyard. 

“Well,” Oikawa said, tangling his hands together and resting them casually behind his head. “You’ve done a lot already, maybe it’s time that you bring in someone else to help you out.”

Iwaizumi eyed Oikawa with suspicion, brows furrowed and one eye squinting a little more than the other. “What are you talking about?”

“Leave it to me, buddy.” OIkawa said, slapping a hand on his friend’s back as he started to devise another one of his devious plans.

- - - - -

“Have you heard from any more schools?” You asked Oikawa as you walked to school that morning. The air was pretty crisp so you had your knit scarf pulled up a little tighter around your neck and chin as you walked. Unconsciously, you were a step behind Oikawa, using his tall frame as a shield from the wind. 

“Ah, Coach said he had gotten a few letters this week,” He replied, seeming unphased by the brisk air that was affecting you so much. “I need to pick them up after classes. You? Narrowed it down yet?”

“Yeah,” You replied as you turned the street that Seijoh was on, thankful the journey was almost over since your teeth had started chattering and you’d soon find warmth in the buildings. “I’m between Tohoku and Osaka.”

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully at your choices, “Very different choices. You-know-who is going to Tohoku.”

You squinted ahead of you, chancing a small glare at Oikawa as you walked onto campus. “You can say his name, Tooru, I’m not that childish.” You mumbled. “And yeah, I think I heard Matsu mentioned it.”

That was a lie. Matsukawa had never mentioned that Iwaizumi was going to Tohoku. You knew he was going there because he himself told you he’d been gunning for it all year, hoping to play there and study Natural Sciences. You’d both spent a lot of time talking about the future and what you wanted. He didn’t want to be too far from home, being able to be with and see his Grandma regularly was a big draw for him to stay in Miyagi. You remembered that specifically because when he had said it, you swore that your heart had swelled up to twice its size.

Coming back from your thoughts, you had noticed Oikawa slowing down as you walked onto campus. The chill was still present, even with buildings blocking most of the wind, so you urged him to keep moving with the large crowd of students. “Tooru, come on.” You huffed, nudging your head in the direction of the third year building. “It’s cold, let’s go.”

He stood there, just kind of looking at you. The expression on his face was a little smug and that confused you greatly. You watched him, shivering as the cold continued to penetrate through your coat, as he slowly but confidently strode up to you. More students passed by, wanting to get in the buildings for the most part, but a few eyed the two of you warily - always curious about what the Seijoh It Couple was up to. 

“Toor-” You started, but were cut off by your own surprise when Oikawa stepped in front of you and purposefully grabbed your hands with his own.

“(Y/n),” he started, looking down at you with a genuine smile. “This year has been amazing, and I’m really glad that we were able to become as close as we have.”

You tilted your head to the side a little, smiling up at the boy in front of you, his words making you actually feel happy. “Tooru, that’s very sweet of you. I’m glad too!”

Oikawa continued to stand in front of you, swinging your arms around aimlessly as he expression turned thoughtful. By now, more students had stopped their journey into the school buildings to watch. It wasn’t often that they got to see you two interact so closely, it was like watching a couple of celebrities right before their very eyes. You glanced around and happened to see the crowd forming, feeling embarrassed and a little put off, you squeezed Oikawa’s hands and attempted to pull him along. 

“Hey, let’s go,” You said, still smiling so the people around you wouldn’t notice your discomfort. “People are like, staring at us.”

“Good, I’m not done.” Oikawa said, pulling you back to stand before him. You looked up at him, tilting your head again but this time a confused expression on your face, mouth pouted slightly and eyes half squinting. “(Y/n), you’ve been such a good friend to me.”

Your eyes widened considerably as he said those words. Friend. You heard a very slight murmur within the crowd, wondering why he said friend and not girlfriend. Your heart began to pound and you looked at Oikawa in front of you, really concerned that he was going to blow everything.

“And Iwa has been such a good friend to me too,” He said, gripping your hands a little tighter and smiling. “I just think it’s about time that the two best people in my life got to be happy.”

You leaned a little away, glancing around more at the surrounding crowd as their whispers turned into a dull murmur. A few words could be heard - breaking up? Just friends? Iwaizumi? - and you started to get really worried and nervous about what was going on before you. You looked back at Oikawa, silently pleading with him to help you understand just what exactly he was doing.

“I know when we started this whole thing we agreed that you’d be the one to end things, but this seemed more important.”  Oikawa spoke again. This time he voice was a little louder, catching more attention and causing almost all voices around you to silence and listen carefully. “So if it’s not too much to ask, and in front of everyone here today, will you please, please… date my best friend?”

A collective gasp could be heard across the crowd. 

“W-what?” You managed to stutter out. The blood drained from your face so quickly, you almost felt dizzy.

Oikawa let go of your hands at that point, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around to face the opposite direction you had been and bringing you face to face with Iwaizumi. You hadn’t even known he was there, but once your eyes met his you couldn’t be bothered to look anywhere else.

He looked a little nervous and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were  flushing from the cold weather or from everything that was happening. You felt Oikawa’s hand on your back, nudging you not so gently forward, and making you stumble a little in front of Iwaizumi. He reached up instinctually, placing both of his cold hands on your cheeks and holding you in place before him. The sudden feeling of his cold skin against yours made you gasp and your own hands immediately flew up to grasp at his wrists. 

His thumbs caressed gently at your cheekbones and both your breaths mixed together in the small space between you that was still left. Your heart clenched over and over as you just looked into his dark eyes, still trying to comprehend what exactly you had been set up for.

“(Y/n),” Iwaizumi finally spoke, his grip on you tightening just a little bit. “Please.”

You stared up at him, hands continuing to dangle from his wrists. The dull murmur of the shocked crowd around you started to fade away as your focus was solely on the boy in front of you. 

He was looking at you like you were the world. There was a level of intensity there, but also a familiar look that he had given you many, many times before. When you were studying alone together, when he had picked you up that night over the summer, as you both laid in your bed on numerous occasions. You knew that look.

“Okay, Hajime.” You said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened when he heard the words you spoke, pulling you a little closer into him and pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah?” He repeated, wanting to confirm what you said was what he heard.

You confirmed with a nod of your head.

Not a moment passed before he had closed the gap between you and pressed his lips against yours - to the surprise of the students that had surrounded you. Oikawa’s cheering went on unnoticed by you, even when he encouraged the other students around to start clapping as well. The only thing that was on your mind was the boy standing in front of you, holding onto you like you were the one thing on Earth he couldn’t let go of, and the feeling of warmth that he spread from your lips, to your heart, to your toes.

TAGS: @iihxneybunz75​ @bambisfuneral​ @svtbitch​ @gayverlinq​ @bubbleteaa​ @keekee-732​ @oikawannabeyourbabie​ @halxma06​ @srirachibi​

[going-there-and-back-again]

@shiremaiden thank you so much for tagging me!!!  <3 <3 joining you in the no soda no coffee no alcohol camp hahahaha (we can be boring together 😆😆)

1. what is the colour of your hairbrush? navy blue 2. name a food you never eat: spicy food 3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too warm (i can’t wait for autumn) 4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? homework for class tomorrow 5. what’s your favourite candy bar? hmm i don’t know...i haven’t had a candy bar in a while 6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? rugby once because dad had free tickets. the food was okay. i don’t actually understand rugby. 7. what is the last thing you said out loud? the last time i said something was definitely in a casual conversation with my parents but i don’t rmb exactly what the last thing i said was 8. what is your favourite ice cream? cookies and cream! 9. what was the last thing you had to drink? water  10. do you like your wallet? yup!  11. what is the last thing you ate? half an apple 12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope 13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? i don’t really watch sports...i’ll watch the olympics, but that’s about it  14. what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? haven’t had popcorn in ages (also there are flavors besides ‘sweet’ and ‘salty’?? mindblown) 15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? if chatting counts as texting, then a friend from school 16. ever been camping? yup! we had mandatory camp at school. i even have a huge camping bag which i basically never use anymore 17. do you take vitamins? vitamin c sometimes 18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? nope, i’m not religious 19. do you have a tan? i have a sunburn from school camp that’s never fully gone away if that counts 20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? hmm depends on my mood 21. do you drink your soda through a straw? i don’t drink soda oops 22. what colour socks do you usually wear? oohhh changes every day haha - i love colored socks!!!  23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? i don’t know how to drive and am mildly terrified of driving 24. what terrifies you? besides driving? most things, tbh.  25. look to your left, what do you see? a window, and outside, the trees and some lights (there’s a breeze!!! and actual breeze!! which is not a sight but it’s a SMELL and i love it) 26. what chore do you hate most? not sure - i like cleaning most of the time. majorly reorganizing my room i guess? because that’s just a Task and i always want things to be perfect but it’s so stressful 27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? g’day mate! (im just kidding i dont really know) 28. what’s your favourite soda? i don’t drink soda hahaha. i had grape fanta at a classmate’s birthday party once in primary thinking that it was grape juice with jelly. but it wasn’t :(( i don’t like the taste of soda/the fizzy feeling (sparkling water is even worse) 29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? can’t drive so i’ve never gone to a drive thru before 30. what’s your favourite number? i don’t think i have one 31. who’s the last person you talked to? mom or dad 32. favourite meat? don’t have a favorite, but i don’t like the taste of lamb 33. last song you listened to? i am woman, helen reddy 34. last book you read? looking for alaska 35. favourite day of the week? friday! 36. can you say the alphabet backwards? nope. that sounds dizzying 37. how do you like your coffee? i don’t drink coffee either whoops 38. favourite pair of shoes? i wear sneakers like 99% of the time, so i guess those are my favorite 39. time you normally get up? i’ve gotten up at five am and i’ve also gotten up at 11:30 but these days it’s usually some time after nine 40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? both! the sky is so pretty 41. how many blankets on your bed? two :) 42. describe your kitchen plates: we have a lot of mismatched plates at home 43. describe your kitchen at the moment: clean, bowls and plates drying on the rack 44. do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? i don’t drink alcohol at all hahaha 46. what colour is your car? i don’t have one 47. can you change a tire? nope, sorry 48. your favourite state or province? i don’t know enough about us states to have a favorite haha 49. favourite job you’ve had? i haven’t actually had a proper job yet (i’m still a student). but i love being a student, so i’ll just put that down for now. 

tagging @of-oaks-and-baggins, @sylvanprincess and @elaneth-elf-friend if you guys want to give it a go!!

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Opposites Attract Colson Baker X Reader PT 2

Requested By: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Word Count: 2,437

It didn't take long for Colson to post the news of your guys engagement to IG the love and support poured in from fans and friends alike.

@TommyLee: Congratulations you two I couldn't be happier for you!

@PeterDavidson: It's about damn time you two, I know you and @YN will be happy together!

@IwanRheon: Looks like the right woman came along to tame your wild ass buddy congrats!

@AshleighVev: See I told you you two were meant to be together ;)

It wasn't long before every paper and magazine across the country spread the news. TV and radio buzzed as well the news spread like wildfire. Casie was absolutely thrilled when you both broke the news to her, "Now I can call you mommy!" She hugged you so tight you almost couldn't breathe. "I think you would make a cute flower girl." You offered hugging her back, Casie squealed in excitement over the moon you had asked. "Well I think that is Cas's way of saying yes babe." Colson chuckled.

Y/N wanted to surprise Colson after some thought the perfect idea came to mind. You had never once gotten a tattoo but you wanted to find the perfect way to show Colson just how much you loved him. You got in contact with his tattoo artist friend Ceven and ended up getting two specific and very special tattoos. You got a double XX on your right hip and EST19XX on the back of your left shoulder. Y/N held off for as long as she could unable to wait any longer excited to show off the new body art to Colson. "God damn babygirl you look hot!" His world famous smirk appeared making you melt, safe to say that the idea of some tattoos on you actually turned him on. Though in the smallest of ways you both rubbed off on one another and according to the guys that was actually a good thing.

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

"Ummm alone at last." Colson murmured into your lips pulling away from a heated kiss. It had been a busy day between the recording studio and fielding phone calls and emails with Interscope Records.

You turned your attention to him then, twisting your body and inching closer until you were nearly in his lap. You hit him with a sultry stare as you reached forward and took hold of the back of his neck, pulling and catching him in a deep, bruising kiss.

He couldn't help by smile against her as their lips moved together in a hungry and building need. With one hand trapped between their pressed bodies, his other landed to your knee, thumb running aimless circle across your soft skin.

"So eager..." Colson muttered on an intake of breath.

"I've been waiting to do this all night," Y/N replied softly, smirking at him in the close quarters, before kissing him heavily once more.

Having spent the night barely keeping from throwing yourself at him, now that you both had a smidgen of privacy you were quick to take advantage. Watching him distantly while you both attended a public appearance had left you hungry and desperate in your yearning for him. A need that soon became an all-consuming delirium. You could think of nothing else but his lips and hands finally on you, the city lights and people all warping into white noise and static as your focus zeroed in on your one and only.

With a heavy sigh, your fingers gripped tightly into one of his jacket lapels now, pulling him harder against your body as the movements from the water bed beneath them shifted them closer.

"Why wait?" Colson asked, breaking their kiss again.

"To see if I could," Y/N answered swiftly, tilting to welcome his warm breath and lips on your face then neck.

Colson chuckled softly as his kisses trailed across your jawline and then down the column of your throat, "And?"

"It was...hard, Colson. So, hard." You sighed, nudging at him to return to your lips.

He hummed his approval as you began to encourage his hand on your knee to track up the inside of your thigh while you kissed.

It had been hard, really fucking hard, following your lead as he did that night, his hands twitching to reach out and smooth over the leagues of soft exposed skin, his body aching to pull you flush against him. Just watching you all night long was near agony, his mind all but consumed with how the sway of your hips would feel under his hands, as you moved about sensually.

//I got what you dream 'bout

Nails scratchin' my back tatt

Eyes closed while you scream out

And you keep me in with those hips

While my teeth sink in those lips

While your body's giving me life

And you suffocate in my kiss//

Groaning against you and with tongues coiling hungrily, he slowly leaned into the sinful movement, pushing you firmly into the mattress with his body. After skimming his fingertips across the smooth skin of your thigh he slipped under the hem of your dress with a heated momentum. He nearly reached his warm destination at the apex of your thighs before his low gasp broke your kiss.

"No panties, Y/N?" He whispered, so lowly that you almost didn't hear him. Almost. If anything you felt him, his deep, heavy tone rattling through to your bones.

You smirked at him lust filling your eyes "maybe" you replied in a coy manner.

"Humm." He moaned, still mildly buzzed and definitely love drunk, oblivious to anything other than the bombshell center of his whole fucking universe, currently under his heavy petting touch.

You opened your legs a little bit more, as much as your tight dress would allow without riding all the way up. Noticing your slight movement, he took full advantage of the freed constraints and brushed his fingers over your wet outer lips. You bit back a groan, lifting your hips to his touch while he torturously withheld from slipping into your core, teasing, barely touching; driving you fucking crazy.

He huffed out a thick laugh, "always fucking amazing how your body responds to my touch."

You panted softly, and while you tried to swallow your longing, god damn how he could drive you insane and absolutely enjoy every second of it while he's at it.

Colson let out a low whine, his forehead pressed to yours, hand still up under your skirt, still teasing, still ghosting his touch over every inch but where you craved him most.

"God what you do to me babygirl." He mumbled.

You  reached over and with fingers hooking into his jean pocket, you shoved the lace fabric of the discarded panties into the rough pouch, then purposefully palmed over his bulge as you withdrew your hand. He groaned quietly again as his free hand came up to cup your cheek, fingers dipping into your sweat-damp hairline while he pulled you in hard and kissed you wildly.

That keeps telling you to listen to all the bad things I say//

Colson leaned back against the headboard with a smile, looping his arms around your waist and lifted you to him. With your arms hooked around his neck, you kissed heedlessly, eager groans and sensual sighs swallowed and encouraged. He held you so tightly against himself, gripping into your lower back and ass, leaving less than a breath of air between you, determined to feel every inch of your body while the soft canting of your hips met his own.

//You're my pretty little vixen

And I'm the voice inside your head

That keeps telling you to listen to all the bad things I say//

Moving gracefully Y/N dropped one hand down to Colson's waistline and smoothly palmed over him through his jeans, retching a low groan from his depths before you worked both his button and fly open. You couldn't help but moan and snake your body against him when you felt him hot and hard under your touch, elated in how you left him gasping from so little.

Colson pulled away from your lips to full on moan when you finally got your delicate hand into the confined fabric of his jeans and boxer briefs.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose along your jaw and up to your ear, "Y/N..." He growled, his voice half pleading and half warning. It turned him on, you were usually so demure and shy this was a different side of you and he was actually enjoying it.

You tilted your head up with a smile to look at him, "Yes, my love?"

His head tipped falling with a thud against the solid wood, eyes screwed shut as you wrapped your fingers around his solid length. Every word, every touch, every taste you gave him was like an oasis in the Sahara Desert, yet each drink left him thirsting for more. Next, your grasp on him tightened ever so slightly and he couldn't help but buck himself into your hand.

Somewhere in this lust filled haze he found his basic motor functions and moved his hands from your waist, tucking up under your cardigan to find the small dress zipper that ran the length of your spine. Fumbling fingers finally grasped the warm metal and slid the zippered teeth open before finding the warmth of your lower back.

His breathing was rapid already, heart pounding, his head; light and spinning. But he shook the dizziness, as best he could, and tried to right his brain enough in order to move again.

Colson found his hands working on their own accord, pulling your sweater off the caps of your shoulders, his lips drawn to and finding purchase on the soft heated skin below. You let out a sensual sigh that swirled around him like a pulling undertow. Your head fell back slack against his shoulder as he touched you greedily, his lips travelled up the long slope of your neck.

He seized this opportunity and his freed hands tracked back up your body. You pressed yourself back against him harder as he mapped the soft flow of your curves over silky designer fabric, and god, you could hardly breathe. Your knees had felt like jello since leaving the function, with how he held you, how he grabbed onto you like nothing else would ever satisfy his need, left you feeling near prurient and heaving.

//The way we love, is so unique

And when we touch, I'm shivering

And no one has to get it

Just you and me

'Cause we're just living

Between the sheets//

Colson cupped both your breasts from behind with a soft squeeze and you let out another spin tingling sigh as he palmed over you heartily. Covering and encouraging his hands with your own you moaned his name when his lips on your neck became far more ardent, his touch becoming even more fevered and tracking down lower. With a roll of his hips and a groan he played and pulled on the hem of your dress, inching higher and higher with each passing second.

You then quickly pushed his worn leather jacket off his shoulders and swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt sliding it  from his torso, all while keeping hungry lips moving together.

You felt like the world was spinning off its axis now, for a whole new set of reasons other than the drink, as he claimed your mouth with a building and heavy intensity. Urgently, his hands pawed and slid over your curves and pulled you in close while your grip hooked around his neck, your fingers sinking habitually into his hair with a thirsty moan.

You didn't really have the sense to think of anything other than Colson, nor could a single sentence form to even speak, even if you tried.

With hooded eyes and a sly smile you stared on as Colson now knelt at your feet there on the bed, his expression focused, his intention abundantly and delightfully clear. You then watched as his nimble hands moved smoothly from your ankles, to run up the length of your legs and bunch your dress around your waist, with a helpful lift of your hips.

He smiled at you, a wicked lopsided grin full of promise and mischief as he gently urged your legs to part wider with a small nudge. You obliged him willingly with a soft moan, a sound that sobered him up in an imminent instant, and the moment he had enough space he buried his face in your slick valley and set to work.

Goosebumps and shivers ran across Y/N's skin at the contact and your head fell slack, "God...Colson."

He lapped up your slit, his own growls and moans sending sensation, heat and vibrations through you. He knowingly took his time swirling around your clit, feeling your grid to him, relishing in how you tugged him closer by thick fist fulls of his hair, listening to you moan loudly and completely without restraint. Your thighs around his head and fingers in his hair clenched as he suckled at your sensitive bundle of nerves before worrying at it relentlessly.

You  felt like you was going to burst into flames, or go insane, or perish as every emotion and sensation crashed over you at once. The entire night had been a sneaky, creeping, heady form of foreplay and now you felt yourself toppling towards release extremely quickly. You barely held yourself together for long enough to warn Colson, though he didn't seem too surprised when you all but screamed his name and fell apart under his prowess.

Colson  let his grip on your thighs go, that smug lopsided smirk returning to his glossy lips as he looked up at the panting mess above him. While you floated back down to earth you blindly pulled him up by the hair to meet your lips, kissing him so passionately and thoroughly that you could taste yourself over every inch of his tongue.

You settled heavy on his lap, his coarse denim against your oversensitive center ignited you all over again. So you shimmied back a bit and popped the buttons of his jeans once more, eager to strip the layers still left between you.

Colson watched on in spellbound amusement, his hands smoothing up the tops of your thighs to grab a thick hold of your hips under your skirt. You looked so overwrought already, skin flushed, hair wild, dress falling off your shoulders and spilling open to reveal the soft swell of your breasts in a creamy strapless bra.

"I need you now Colson," you finally replied.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Plus One

“I’m not going. This is stupid,” Lexa lamented as she sipped her coffee. She slumped back in her chair and stared at her fingers picking at the holder anxiously.

“You have to go.”

“I don’t, and I’m not. It was a courtesy invitation, and that’s all.”

“Which is exactly why you have to go,” Anya explained, already annoyed at her sister's antics and moping. “You have to show her that you moved on and it didn’t take forever for you to get over her. Costia needs to see that you got someone nicer and better and smarter and hotter.”

“I’m fine. I’m over her. I don’t have to go to prove anything. And,” she twisted up her face at the realization, “I haven’t found anyone all of those things. I haven’t even tried.”

The café filled with people grabbing some sustenance while the two sat at their normal table. For the better part of the conversation, Lexa regretted mentioning that she’d gotten her ex’s wedding invitation. She also hated that now she would have to listen to her sister’s opinions on the matter.

“That’s my point! You haven’t even looked! Costia cheated on you, broke your heart, stole four years of your life, and then asked to be friends after it was all over,” she recited. “Now she invites you to her wedding and you’re supposed to go and be happy? No way.”

“We’re friends. It was the nice thing to do, but I probably won’t go.”

“You have to go and show her what’s what.”

“What does that even mean?” Lexa shook her head and sipped her coffee as she let her gaze wander to the window and the city outside.

The coffee shop was bustling, filled with people reading and writing and talking and laughing, but it did nothing to make Lexa feel any better about the invitation. She refused to look at her sister because she knew exactly the look she was getting.

“You find yourself a hot date and make her see that you weren’t even bothered at all.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s brilliant.”

“It’s petty.”

“Think about it,” Anya said excitedly. “You go to the wedding, you take a smoking hot lady, and you end it, once and for all. You prove that you aren’t even  thinking about Costia.”

“It’s over. It’s been over for years.”

“All you do is work.”

“I run my own business,” Lexa sighed, shaking her head. “I want to be successful. And I am over her. I’ve dated.”

All that Anya could do was shake her head and give a heavy groan of complaint. She was never a fan of Costia, and she was certainly more than happy to see it over, though never happy to see how gutted it made her sister.

There wasn’t a doubt that Lexa loved Costia. She’d been her first real love. There’d been girlfriends before, but something always came up, always ended it before six months. Something about Costia was different, and for the life of her Anya never knew why, and her sister could never explain it.

And while it was true that Lexa was busy, her sister never believed much else. She didn’t buy the other girls and going out and being over Costia. Someone over their ex wouldn’t look so glum about a wedding invitation.

“You have to show her. Just think about it.”

“I never would have imagined you’d be advocating me going to Costia’s wedding.”

“I’m advocating you getting laid and rubbing it in her face.”

“Okay, are you done?” Lexa laughed and hoped all at once.

From the table, she looked back over the café while her workers went about their jobs, not really needing her to do their jobs. She didn’t care, she still liked to work normal hours. Unfortunately she hired competent people and so she wasn’t needed and couldn’t be saved from her sister.

“Think about it.”

Lexa shook her head and sighed, hoping it was enough.

The problem was that Lexa did think about it.

She thought about it all night as she locked up the doors in her café. She let it bother her when she met a few friends out for drinks. She even let it follow her as she told them about her sister’s plan, to which they eagerly agreed, much to her own disappointment and shaming.

The problem was that Lexa thought about it all night.

She thought about it after a few glasses of beer. She thought about it as her brain got a little dizzy and her fingers moved on her keyboard.

Wanted: Beautiful, intelligent, kind, caring, smart, funny woman to show off to my ex at her wedding. Trip to wine country included... Honestly, the other stuff doesn’t matter, just be super hot.

With a grin, she emailed it to her sister, asking if she should post it somewhere.

Still, the thought nagged at her until she opened her ex’s profile. The pictures didn’t hurt her, didn’t bother her. It was like looking at a memory. In reality, she didn’t know Costia anymore, and that was alright. In the years apart, Lexa had grown her little place into a business, and she survived and mended. She just wasn’t sure she was ready for anything with someone else. She got good at being alone and wounded.

With a half drunk revelation about her place in life that she hoped she would forget, Lexa fell asleep and vowed to never think about Costia’s wedding again.

Lexa was mildly successful. After about a week, her sister didn’t bring it up, and she forgot to return the RSVP. It faded away to nothing, and she continued her normal life just as she had since Costia got kicked out and left for good.

“I’ve found her,” Anya sprinted into the coffee shop, nearly panting and half skidding past the counter.

From the booth in the back where she worked on the books, Lexa adjusted her glasses as she looked up and watched her sister frantically look around the counter for her. She perked up when she met Lexa’s eyes and continued to weave back through the tables, shedding a scarf and bag in the process.

“I’ve found your date!”

“I don’t need a date,” Lexa furrowed, forgetting about the stupid wedding. “I have three employees on vacation next week. I’m fine. I’ve told you--”

“Shh. Hush. Shh-shh-shhut your face,” she shook her head and tried to catch her breath still. “I ran the whole way here. I haven’t ran anywhere, ever.”

“You could have texted--”

“Shhh!”

With a roll of her eyes, Lexa waited patiently for her sister. She had bills to pay and she had stuff to get done for the day. After their mom left, Anya grew up almost overnight. The tender age of twelve and suddenly making sure Lexa was okay. It was a hard habit to break. Even fifteen years later.

“We don’t have much time, but through a series of events, I may have forwarded your email to most of my company, meaning all of my company,” she explained, holding up her hand as her sister moved to interrupt and complain. “But I did find you a date.”

“You… You…” Lexa squinted and stared at her sister incredulously. Her mouth wanted to move, but she was too mortified. “You WHAT?”

It came out louder that Lexa normally sounded, which surprised her sister slightly. A few people mingling in the coffee shop looked over, though she didn’t notice. Instead, she just stared at Anya and waited to find the proper words. They’d never come though. She knew it. Her brain was too frazzled.

“Just be calm. Sit up straight. Fix your hair. Be charming,” her sister insisted.

“Anya, I can’t possibly--”

The words stalled as she trailed off slowly when she saw a beautiful girl appear in her coffee shop. But as much as she was distracted, she found her senses again and shook away the thought before giving her sister another glare.

“I’m not doing this,” she hissed, ignoring Anya’s self-satisfied grin.

“Yes you are. You need this.”

“You’re not pimping me out to a strang--”

“Yes I am.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Too late.”

“Am I interrupting?” the girl in question appeared, all too close for Lexa’s comfort.

“No!” Anya said, much too loudly. “No, no, not at all.” With a pointed look, she found her smile to put the stranger at ease. “Clarke, I’d like you to meet my sister, Lexa.”

“Hi,” the blonde smiled

Lexa gaped for a second, pursing her lips shut as she gulped. It was more of a problem than she’d expected. How a girl like that answered a stupid email, as lost on Lexa. But her sister nudged her shoulder and she came back around.

“Hello,” she managed stiffly, earning another nudge. “I-- Um. Could I get you a coffee?”

“Sit, sit,” Anya interrupted. “I’ll go get them for you both. Take your time. Get to know each other. Work it out. I know where everything is. Lexa owns this place. Pretty good coffee. What can I get you, Clarke?”

“What do you recommend?” she asked, turning to the owner with a natural smile on her face. Lexa could make out the hint of a dimple on the blonde’s cheek and that was trouble.

“Matcha cappuccino,” Lexa decided. “We just got some new leaves in from one of my friends in Kyoto.”

“Two of those, coming right up,” her sister clapped her hands. “You two sit and get acquainted.”

In a second, she was gone, weaving through the tables toward the counter, leaving the two strangers standing there, awkwardly looking back and forth at each other until Lexa held out her hand and motioned for Clarke to take the chair her sister already offered. Awkwardly, she gave a weary smile and tried to figure out where to start.

From the get go, Lexa could see that Clarke was essentially the opposite of her ex. Where Costia was tall and slender, Clarke was shorter and curvy. Where there was dark, curly hair, no was blonde waves. Gone were brown eyes and in their place was blue ones; bluer than any blue had a right to be. And the smile. Clarke had a constant smile, always right there and eager and warm.

Lexa blushed when she realized she’d met Clarke’s eyes again after staring at her lips, her cheeks growing pink with the blush of being found out.

“I’m really sorry my sister’s pulling you into this mess,” Lexa finally began, all the words bubbling up from her chest and spilling out of her mouth. “I’m severely embarrassed that it got forwarded. It was just a joke, and I don’t even want to go, but I also don’t think it’s fair to ask someone to preten--”

“Easy there, tiger,” Clarke chuckled as Lexa spun out. “No one dragged me into it. I volunteered.”

“But… why?”

“I’d had a few glasses of wine when I responded, to be honest,” she shrugged. “And then Anya seemed so grateful and relieved. I’m also kind of excited for an adventure. If I wrote a bucket list, I’d like to think crashing an ex’s wedding just to spite them would be on it.”

“Let me just get this straight. You’d willingly go and pretend to be my girlfriend to make my ex mad, just for fun?”

“Makes me sound a bit psychotic when you put it like that,” she frowned before perking back up. “But yeah. Why not? Should be some good karma in there somewhere.”

Lexa stared at the stranger, torn between amazement at the good intentions on display and the absolute absurdity of it all. She couldn’t just go with someone she just met to Costia’s fancy, Napa wedding. That would be bad. And wrong. Wrong and bad. That would be crazy. And yet, it was suddenly an option.

“You’re really sure about this, aren’t you?” Lexa finally asked.

“I’m a fairly good fake date. If you’d like references, you can ask my high school boyfriend. I was his beard for two years for family functions.”  

“Ah, so you’re a professional fake girlfriend?”

“I think that’s an escort-in-training, to be precise,” Clarke decided before seeing Lexa’s face fall slightly. “I’m kidding, obviously. That was a joke.”

“Thank goodness.”

Before either could say anything else, two cups appeared with frothy green and white foam were slid on the table, right on top of Lexa’s work and papers and notebook. She looked between the two of them and smiled expectantly.

“You two seem like you’re talking. Going well?” Anya hoped.

The hope in her tone was evident from the get go, and Lexa didn't really know what to say, so she just shrugged and looked at Clarke who did much the same thing.

“It’s alright,” Lexa finally tried, earning a nod from the blonde across the table.

“Good, good,” she smiled. “I’m just going to head back to work and let you two crazy kids iron out the details. I’m sure this is going to be great.”

Once more, Anya gave her sister a pointed look and communicated a few things to her through her face before giving Clarke a smile, resuming the happy front. To her credit, Lexa didn’t completely die of embarrassment just yet.

“So, you run this place?” Clarke asked, blowing on her drink before taking a sip.

“Own it.”

“Wow. No wonder you look so stressed. I can’t imagine the pressure.”

“I get by alright.”

For a moment, she didn’t have much else to say, but Lexa felt like she should. There was this weird feeling of wanting to say things to put the girl across her at ease, and she really wasn’t sure how.

“This is good.”

“Thank you,” Lexa smiled weakly as she quickly processed the information that came from the amiable stranger. “So you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

From across the table, Clarke carefully put down the mug of delicious coffee with care and from beneath her lashes, in an absolutely stunning kind of look that was enough to make Lexa’s mouth go instantly dry, she met her eyes and she let her lip quirk up on the corner slowly and just enough.

“Lexa, there are moments when you just have to be someone’s fake girlfriend. It’s a service to the world.”

“To the world, huh?”

“I had a pretty gnarly break up a few months ago. My friends say I need to get out. This seems like a low-pressure introduction, and for some reason, hiding behind an act of charity makes it easier for me to put myself out there.”

With a sigh and another sip of her cup, Lexa looked around the coffee shop and mulled. She was someone who mulled. She took time to decide things. Never one to be rash or impetuous, unless apparently a lot of wine was involved, Lexa tried to turn it around from all sides.

Clarke just sipped and smiled, careful to wipe the foam that got caught on her lips.

“We don’t have to touch or be super personal. I won’t ask you do to something you aren’t comfortable with. This is strictly pretend, or even it’s like friends, hanging out.”

“Well, you’re a sweet fake girlfriend,” Clarke beamed.

“I’m not doing this to get my ex back or to sleep with you or anything like that. Anya thinks that showing up with a beautiful girl would just be a nice way to turn the page.”

“I kind of agree. Your sister wants you to show your ex that you’ve moved on and she missed out. I think that’s fair.”

“I’m over her. I am. I think that’s why this feels weird.”

“You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard when you’re actually okay,” Clarke nodded, understanding perfectly. “But you also are still kind of hurt and don’t want to go alone because that would seem weird.”

“Super weird, right?”

Clarke just chuckled and nodded.

“It’s kind of weird being this honest with a complete stranger.”

“Yeah, or with anyone,” Lexa mumbled slightly to herself.

“If you want, you can think it over. You don’t have to decide. I think it’s just nice to know that you have the option to have someone to hang out with and make it less weird at your ex’s wedding.”

The nice girl nodded politely and finished her coffee. There was a kind of pink in her cheeks that made her eyes seem clearer.

“You’re really serious?”

“I am,” Clarke nodded. “You seem relatively normal minus this whole thing.”

In a move, Clarke reached across the table and picked up a pen before snagging a napkin. She jotted down her number and slid it across the table.

“I still can’t believe you’re serious,” Lexa shook her head despite seeing the number.

“Me neither. Just let me know. I should head back to work,” she offered, standing up from the table finally. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

Lexa stood as well, though the moment she did, she regret it and was unsure why. Instead, she just remained and somehow stuck her hand out to shake as if it were an interview. Nice enough, Clarke smiled and shook her hand before heading back toward the entrance and tossing a wave over her shoulder.

It wasn’t until Clarke was gone that Lexa sat back down and picked up the napkin tenderly. She smiled slightly at the whirlwind that just happened. She wasn’t ever that honest, and she was never that vulnerable, but two minutes with a pretty girl and she was confessing it all.

“Where did she go? What did you do?” Anya worried, sitting quickly.

“I didn’t do anything. I can’t believe you did this though. She was nice and seemed normal and you--”

“I found you a wedding date, if you didn’t scare her off.”

“I have to think about it.”

“What is there to think about? I hand-delivered a hot blonde who is just weird enough to accept your drunken offer for a date to your ex’s wedding.”

“I am still not sure I’m going,” Lexa shook her head.

Carefully, she folded the napkin and slid it in the pocket of her shirt.

Her sister  rolled her eyes and groaned.

“You’re impossible.”

For the entirety of the evening, well after the coffee shop was closed and Lexa was back in her own place, the weight of the napkin tucked into her shirt pocket weighed heavily upon her chest. She refused to look at it to confirm the numbers and the slopes and curves of Clarke’s name just above it.

But like a little thought worm that burrowed deep into her brain, she couldn’t reach it to evict it. The notion existed within her and she couldn’t escape it.

Once again, Lexa opened up her ex’s website and perused the pictures. There was a distinct lack of connection there anymore, and yet the book wasn’t shut. Clarke was right-- Lexa needed to go there and make sure. She had to feel the disconnect in person. She had to free herself of this nagging need to feel something. And Clarke had the qualifications for it. She was pretty and funny and sympathetic to a weirdo’s weird request.

After another lap of pacing through her house, Lexa stood still as a statue in her living room before tugging the napkin out and dialing the number.

“Hello?” Clarke greeted on the sixth right, right before Lexa was prepared to chalk it up to a loss.

“Clarke? It’s Lexa. Lexa Woods. Anya’s sister. We met earlier at my coffee shop. About the, er-- the um-- wedding?”

It all came out so quick that her brain was even catching up quick enough to be embarrassed for the incoherence.

“Ah, yes. I remember.”

There was some amusement in her voice and that did not make it any easier.

“Would you go with me to my ex’s wedding?” Lexa blurted. “I think my sister might be right.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“So you’re asking for a smokeshow and arm candy to show off and help with closure?”

“Yeah, but I’m kind of okay with you hanging out with me. You have a pretty good grip on what I’m feeling.”

“I would love to be your fake girlfriend, but I have one condition.”

“Oh God,” Lexa goraned, flopping down on her couch as the embarrassment caught up with her and she knew enough to be nervous.

“I get to make up our origin story.”

“Sold!” she barked. “I don’t want to think about anything.”

“Perfect. Should we go over the details?”

“I’ll email you the reservations, and of course I’ll book your plane ticket.”

“How chivalrous of you, darling,” Clarke teased.

There was a moment of quiet before Lexa took a deep breath.

“Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me, a complete stranger.”

“I get a paid-for vacation and I love dancing at weddings. This works out for both of us.”

“Whatever you say, Clarke.”

NEXT

[presumenothing]

or: full score trio but in detective conan, the au 

(prev) (AO3)

i.

“Sorry I’m laa–aaaaate!” Emma’s voice comes echoing down the stairwell before even the clatter of her footsteps as she comes racing down, leaping past the final steps to land in front of him with a bright grin. “Were you waiting long?”

Norman smiles right back – he doesn’t think he’s even seen any stairs Emma didn’t want to jump from. “Not at all. Did you get everything you need?”

Emma’s hair bounces with the force of her nod. “Yup! My umbrella, the instant camera, and an extra cardigan for you, too~”

He laughs despite himself. “That’s hardly called for, I don’t get cold that easily anymore, and certainly not at an outdoor amusement park.”

“Sorry for being concerned!” Emma retorts, sticking out her tongue, but she’s smiling as they walk to the subway station. “More importantly, you brought the tickets, right?”

“Of course.” He fishes them out of his wallet and hands one to her.

She scrutinises it for a moment: the cheerfully-coloured illustrations bracketing the park’s name.

(GOLDY POND, it says, balloons twined around the capital letters. Not the most usual name, but then Norman supposes that’s not unexpected for an amusement park.)

“Wonder what it’ll be like? I was thinking about wearing a dress instead, actually, but I figured that might be a little troublesome on the rides, so…” she smooths down the front of her jacket a little nervously. “I’m not underdressed or anything, right?”

Norman doesn’t think he’s ever seen a single outfit that Emma hasn’t looked beautiful in, either. It’s certainly not harmed by the fact that she only ever goes shopping with Gilda, who hates leaving clothes shops empty-handed but detests buying subpar fashion even more. But that’s neither here nor there.

“This trip is because you broke five too many records at that track meet, so.” Norman waves for her to go through the subway turnstile before him. “I think that entitles you to whatever you want.”

Emma cheers at that, skipping beyond reach as the gate opens. “And it’s all your treat today, right, Norman? Because I might’ve forgotten to bring cash!”

Norman almost walks right into the turnstile gate. “Emma!” 

ii.

Emma goes for all the roller coasters first, of course. With repeat rides on all the most thrilling ones.

Norman begs off halfway through mainly so that Emma can go ahead without worrying about him getting ill or anything, but soon after he’s grateful for it anyway: he is actually feeling a little dizzy.

Emma’s constitution is really something, he thinks – but then again her track and field records alone are already proof enough of that.

Instead he finds a bench near the ice cream stand, half-shaded by a tree, and draws schematics of each coaster’s tracks on an empty page in his notebook. It’s weirdly peaceful compared to what he’s used to at school, given their steadily increasing notoriety among both juniors and seniors.

(Emma might be wholly unaware of her popularity, but Norman’s mostly just uneasy with his. He genuinely appreciates how much his friends care for him, but beyond that circle it’s an uncomfortable mix of admiration and envy.

Sometimes it feels like there should be someone else next to him besides Emma, someone who could diffuse the spotlight and maybe keep up with him in that way, but that’s a ridiculous thought: it’s always been him and Emma and Gilda since kindergarten, and he wouldn’t change them for the world.)

By the time Emma returns after three more rides, face flushed with exhilaration and half as red as the strawberry ice cream in her hand, he’s already halfway through rough estimations of the force needed to power each coaster.

She flops down on the bench next to him, legs swinging in her boots as she listens to his evaluations of each coaster and adds her own (“they shouldn’t bother supplying that much power to this one, it was so boring!”). 

When he’s done she nods sagely, jabbing at one of them with the last of her ice cream cone. “Haven’t gotten to try this one yet, seems like it’s only opening in the afternoon.”

“The Mystery Coaster,” Norman reads aloud. “Still a mystery, I guess?”

Beside him Emma is already shaking the folded park map out. “What next… the Ferris wheel?”

“Then lunch, the fountain show, get some photos with the mascots, and then back for the Mystery Coaster.”

“Mascots, huh. I wonder if they have any giraffes?”

iii.

And he’d almost gotten on the Mystery Coaster with her, too… except they’d ended up making a big winding detour after the fountain show that started with reuniting a wayward stuffed toy mascot with its owner.

(I’m Conny! she’d volunteered brightly before either of them could even ask. Thanks for finding Little Bunny, I really thought I’d lost him!

Then, of course, Emma couldn’t help but invite the pigtailed girl along with them to the mascot photo session while Conny waited to meet up with her friends. 

Norman had waved off the mildly-apologetic smile that Emma sent his way as Conny caught both of their hands and tugged. 

Today’s all hers, he’d meant that – and even if there’d been a precarious moment or two, when he’d had to juggle the camera with the stuffed bunny while all of them tried to fit in the frame with the larger-than-life version of Little Bunny, Emma’s brilliant smile had made it all worth it.

“Still no giraffes, though,” Emma had whispered with the echo of a pout, and Norman had burst out laughing right before the camera went off.)

So by the time they’d gotten back to the roller coaster area of the park, Emma had not-too-gently nudged him towards the same bench from earlier, saying that she was already happy enough that he’d accompanied her and Conny on another round through the park, and Norman hadn’t argued.

One ride wouldn’t take that long, anyway. Or it shouldn’t have.

In retrospect Norman really wishes that he’d just insisted on going with her. 

Instead, it takes him a precious dozen minutes waiting by the exit to be certain that something’s gone wrong, and another few more to slip in amongst the sudden throng of park staff and assorted personnel.

When he arrives, he doesn’t get to register more than the stationary coaster and a dark shape on the ground before someone comes barrelling into him.

Norman catches Emma on reflex, her words already tripping quick one over the next. “Oh my god Norman there was an accident and he just – ”

“Wait – wait, slow down. What happened?” he asks, although the pieces are already starting to fall into place from a second look over her shoulder.

Emma's halting explanation fills in the rest of the gaps, her breaths evening out as she talks.

“Can you give me the camera?” Norman asks after she finishes speaking. “Tell the park staff to secure this whole area and call the police in if they haven’t already, then try talking to the deceased’s friends, see what you can find out about their background and all that. Like your dad does.”

“What, by threatening physical violence if people don’t cooperate?” she says, and Norman’s glad to hear the echo of a laugh in her voice. 

“Well, maybe not that bit,” he amends.

“…it wasn’t really an accident, was it?” Emma finally steps back, one hand rubbing at her eyes, reddened but dry.

“It wasn’t,” Norman agrees, and he’s not surprised that she’s figured it out. Really, Emma had probably realised almost right after it happened, but just hadn’t wanted to admit it. 

(Uncle Yuugo might be lackadaisical as a detective most of the time, especially after he’d left the police force, but even Norman was impressed by the cases when he'd been serious, and Emma had inherited no little of that insight – even if she tempered it by kindness.)

“The park staff, then his friends.” Emma nods firmly, already fishing the instant camera out of her bag. “Got it. Anything else?”

Norman shakes his head. “Not right now – I’ll have to examine the scene first. Can you do it?”

“Leave it to me!”

[coteriesrp]

      – THIS IS A SAMPLE APPLICATION FROM KIT WITH DIZZY!

I wrote this intentionally casual so that people know they don’t have to stress too much. Yes. That’s it. Not because I hate writing applications and it was the only way I was gonna get through it. Just... Listen. We know that trying to condense your vision of a character down to a few paragraphs and some fill in the blanks isn’t really Possible. We’re just lookin’ for an introduction, and to know you care enough about joining that you’re willing to try. Stick to what’s fun for you, play around in the space, and everything will be fine. 

     – PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS ONLY AN EXAMPLE & ALSO THAT IT’S NOT TO BE USED AS INSPIRATION OF ANY KIND

out of character info.

ALIAS › kit 

PRONOUNS › they/them 

AGE › 24 

TIMEZONE › gmt-5

LINES › u know that scene in the mummy w the scarabs… anything like that (idk how to word it more concisely sfdSFJKLS)

VEILS › any kind of sexual assault stuff, honestly i’d prefer nothing Too explicitly sexual In General, also animal (insects included) harm/death/etc 

in character info.

CHARACTER › dizzy 

GENDER & PRONOUNS › trans woman & she/her 

DISCIPLINE › obfuscate

DEMEANOUR › 

A bon vivant, the epitome of talking for hours and saying nothing at all; amongst a crowd Dizzy is bubbly and annoying, over-affectionate and vapid, as likely to fade into the scenery of a party as to be the center of it — hard to say whether it’s an act, or just what happens to her in the presence of too many other voices. One on one she’s capable of toning it down, and displays a sharpness and unsurprising love of teasing… When she’s not too busy demanding attention to bother paying it. 

JOINING THE COTERIE › 

Dizzy would say it was pure impulse; she abhors a social vacuum, and was lacking in friends that could be forced to put up with her. Truthfully, it may have been more strategic — and she may have had a stronger hand in creating the coterie than she likes to say. With an estranged sire drifting to the side of anarchy, one might have motivation to convince the Council of the need for another coterie of watchmen. Of course, that’s not as relevant anymore, but… 

(UN)LIFE’S PHILOSOPHY › 

For Dizzy unlife hasn’t been a far cry from life. Each moment is wasted in the rabid pursuit of pleasure, it’s just that now she has a lot more moments to waste. And a lot more potential enemies looking to keep her from it. 

THOUGHTS ON HUMANITY › 

Depending on her mood, this could earn you a noncommittal shrug or a five hour philosophical debate. What constitutes humanity? Are kindred really so different from them, after all? She’s never seen the embrace as quite as big a difference as some seem to, so she might have a softer spot for humans than most. Her stance tends to be that a transition doesn’t make you a different person, even if it changes your circumstances dramatically. 

LIFE EVENTS › (tw; drug/addiction mention) 

— Addiction, sedation, stagnation — much of Dizzy’s life has been colored the same way, her art a bright point of tangibility amidst a sea of smoke and dreams. Escapism, of any kind, was always her strongest vice. She tripped down the steps of different drugs until she found her high of choice: the euphoria of a vampire’s Kiss. 

For years that’s how she lived, existing as a sweet taste on the lips of any number of immortal patrons, barely scraping together a life outside of it. Until the right man saw her for what she was (saw the artist beyond the haze), and decided to prolong her suffering.

A few years as a drip tap turned into a few decades as a ghoul, and the event I’m dancing my way around is her turning — or, really, her relationship with her sire. Dizzy has never been immune to romanticization (she was a perfect fit for clan Toreador) and so words like ‘soul mates’ and ‘true love’ weren’t far from her lips when she was finally Embraced. 

— For decades it was Dizzy and her Sire against the world, but of course nothing lasts. As Dizzy adapted to life under the laws of the Camarilla, her rebellious nature grew much more subtle as a matter of survival. A bright spark faded to a dull roar, and it never occurred to her that her Sire might hate what he had turned her into. 

Not until he brought in a new Childe. Peach, bright and raging against the world as Dizzy had once been, keeping up with the modern era and un-dimmed by the lack of sunlight. Dizzy watched her Sire’s attentions slip further and further from her grasp, and though she remained (barely) civil for decades, things were tense. Maybe their Sire didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t care, but he certainly didn’t do anything to make the ‘siblings’ relationship any better. 

By the time Peach (in Dizzy’s view — she’s still not actually sure how all of it went down) had finished with their sire, he had changed. Gone was the commitment to change the Camarilla from the inside out, and in its place was a brand new plan. Join the Anarchs, attack from the outside, take the direct approach  — 

Out of spite, Dizzy refused. She dug her heels in, burrowed further into the bureaucracy than she’d ever gone before, and shut her heart to the family she’d once had. Holed up in her studio, she barely even heard when news of her sire’s death swept through the clan. She didn’t know him anymore. 

EXPANDING CONNECTIONS › 

— HAREL - Dizzy adores them, delights in nothing more than earning their grudging indulgence, and might have pulled some strings to get them more freedom under the watchful eyes of the Council. She isn’t shy about making it known that Harel is her personal favorite in any given situation, but she never gives a straight answer as to why. 

— ANGEL - Angel exacerbates Dizzy’s distaste for anyone that can see through her, and their unflappable persona doesn’t give her enough purchase to manipulate. Overall, it’s an uneasy truce — she would rather keep them close, keep an eye on them, than let them go about their business where she can’t see. And, someday, she’s going to crack the code of getting an emotional response out of them. It’s a pet project of hers. 

— DIVYA - The most fun toy in the group. So easy to wind up, with so many obvious buttons to press. Ultimately, Dizzy considers them a baby, is mildly protective and has high hopes for how they might develop over the course of their unlife. Never tell Divya, though, if they knew Dizzy had a soft spot it might ruin her fun. 

— PEACH - Nothing turns Dizzy’s stomach or dries her mouth like Peach’s presence — if she had breath, Peach would steal it like a punch to the gut. Every time they’re forced to interact, Dizzy feels the familiar kick of jealousy and betrayal — she blames Peach for their sire abandoning her, and for his eventual final death. It’s not a grudge that Dizzy knows how to let go of. 

miscellaneous info.

EXTRAS › 

i made a pinterest

also have some headcanons: 

— if you let her get away with it, dizzy has the tendency to be Very physically affectionate (read: she Will drape herself over anyone that doesn’t shove her off. depending on the person she will continue to attempt the drapening even when u Do push her off) 

— she’s the kind of person that values loyalty over most other things, so she can and will compromise any morals she may once have had in order to be on a favored person’s good side 

— aka if a friend dislikes someone she will also dislike that person no matter how tempted she is to sleep with them 

— (yes i’m talking about harel and guerra) 

— her nickname was given to her by her sire, who once joked that all the mental spinning she did must make her dizzy… then just started calling her that and it stuck 

— side note: she’s much better at concealing the spinning now 

— or is she just better at not spinning 

— the world may never know 

— her favorite art form is sculpting, but she’s also fond of most types of painting and sketching 

— she has not yet gotten into digital art because the change in tactile feedback freaks her out, but maybe someday 

— Mayhaps she’s kept half an ear to the ground for any news of peach’s business over the years 

— mayhaps i’m waiting on other people to join before working out an actual timeline so idk how long it’s been 

— MAYHAPS

— yes at this point i’m just rambling bc i swear i had more to put here but listen 

— swiss cheese memory 

— am i supposed to be being professional on this thing or smth 

— god i hope not 

LAST WORD › 

hello….. it me :>

[wishingforatypewriter]

The Opposite of Casual

Summary: How far they had come from hooking up at other people’s weddings, and all without moving a single step. Follows On Casual Commitments and Business Casual. 

It had been late when Erina received the call. 

She and Souma had been sitting on the hardwood floor of the empty space that would become their San Francisco restaurant, taking swigs from a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and arguing over paint swatches. 

Cool colors, elegance, royal purple, blue blood. No, warm colors, energy, crimson and gold. 

He had been leaving for Paris in the morning to see to his affairs, and kept trying to convince her come with him. He said he would miss her; that’s when she knew he had to be drunk. Because when had missing her ever stopped him from leaving at the drop of a hat? When they gotten so bad that they couldn’t spend a measly two weeks apart? 

She refused his offer because she had to stay in California if they were to keep to the schedule and open Canvas in seven weeks. She had been losing her resolve with each sip of whiskey that burned down her throat and each kiss he left at the base of her neck. 

A little before midnight, she had sighed and said, “Fine, but I’m only staying for a few days. You’re so lucky I’ve been craving Shino’s.” She’d picked up her phone to book a ticket just as it started ringing. 

“Alice?” he asked with a knowing smile. It was a well known fact that the Nakiri cousins rarely went a day without talking. 

“No, Chef Doujima,” she replied, perplexed. The head of the tourism department seldom called her at all, and always stuck to business hours (in her timezone, mind you) when he did. “I must’ve missed a deadline or something.” She shrugged, then answered. “Hello?” 

“Erina-san,” the man said with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour.” 

“It’s no problem. I’m still awake. Is there something I should attend to?” 

“So it’s no problem when you take business calls after hours,” Souma teased. She rolled her eyes, shushed him. 

“It’s about your grandfather,” Doujima explained. “We were in the middle of a meeting when he collapsed. A heart attack.” 

“What?” The room had started spinning at that point, all the alcohol hitting her at once. Ever since she was a child her grandfather had been absurdly healthy, in better shape than most thirty-somethings when he was well into his eighties, running and hiking and swimming whenever his schedule allowed. Just two months ago, Alice had sent her a video of him doing one-handed push-ups with Kurokiba. “No, that can’t be right.” 

“We were quite surprised as well, but...” 

She could scarcely hear him anymore. She was sobbing, or hyperventilating, maybe both and it felt like the air in the room was growing ever thinner, like she was stranded at the summit of some far off cliff. She could feel Souma rubbing her back while he asked her the questions, the are-you-okays and what’s-wrongs. Erina knew she was probably scaring him because he never saw her cry before, she had seen to that, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

 “I...is he...I mean, did he...” She prayed Doujima wouldn’t make her say it out loud. 

“Senzaemon-dono is still alive. We’re at the hospital, but they haven’t disclosed much information. They would prefer to speak with a blood relative. Your uncle Soe and his family are on their way from Denmark, but-” 

“I...I understand,” she said, grasping for some of her usual composure. “I’m on my way. Thank you for letting me know, Doujima-san.” 

After she hung up the phone Erina buried her face in Souma’s chest, letting the black cotton of his shirt absorb the last of her tears. She would give herself sixty seconds, no more, because she was still the demon lord of food’s granddaughter and heir. No matter what happened in the next few hours, she would have to be strong for Alice, for Auntie Leonora and Uncle Soe, for the Nakiri Group and the Tōtsuki network, students and alumni alike. She would leave her weakness on the worn out Restaurant Yukihira logo where it could do no harm. 

When her minute was up, she wiped her eyes and exhaled deeply. “I can’t come to Paris,” she finally said, her voice level. “Not this time.”  

It was time to go home.

They reached Tokyo after an eleven hour red-eye flight that Souma had more or less bribed their way onto. They flew coach, which made Erina miserable in addition to her being jet-lagged, mildly hungover, and terrified that her grandfather had died hours ago and she didn’t know because, in her words, humanity had advanced enough to put a man on the moon but still couldn’t find a way to give her cell service on a goddamn plane.   

“Do you want to get an Airbnb first?” Souma asked her once they cleared customs. He was holding both of their carry-ons while skimming through flats near the hospital on his phone. “You should probably lie down for a bit.” He had bought her some sleeping pills before they got on the plane, but she was never out for more than an hour and always woke with fresh tears on her face. 

“I’ll live,” she dismissed, her right eye starting to twitch as her iPhone, with newly restored cellular service, vibrated spasmodically in her hand. Her schedule, now sixteen hours behind, demanded a kind of attention that she simply did not have at the moment. She stared blankly at the events on her iCloud calendar—tastings, ingredient orders, interviews, a doctor’s appointment—things that had seemed so important less than a day ago. Then she deleted all of them. 

“And we should get some food in you.” 

Naturally Erina couldn’t defile her god tongue with the tasteless refuse that was airline food, and airline food in coach at that. She did feel weak, and more than a little bit dizzy. On a normal day his suggestions would have seemed rational, even preferable, but she was not in the mood for logic. 

“Later.” 

“Nakiri-”

“I am going to see my grandfather,” she snapped, and instantly regretted it. He had flipped his schedule upside down just to be there for her, and she’d been bratty and ungrateful the entire time. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just-”

“Don’t sweat it.” He kissed her forehead, stunning her enough to disrupt her train of thought; Yukihira Souma had never been one for public displays of affection, and neither had she. How far they had come from hooking up at their friends’ weddings. “I’ll get us a cab.” 

“Make it an Uber,” she said as they made their way to the terminal’s exit, and wondered if it sounded like I love you. 

In the backseat of the cab, Erina had attempted to pull herself together. She brushed her hair, wrapping it into a neat bun, and dabbed concealer under her eyes. So by the time they reached the hospital, she looked at least something like her usual self. 

The rest of the Nakiri clan had already assembled in the waiting room. Her uncle was flagging down a passing nurse, one who likely had nothing to do with her grandfather’s case, for questioning. Alice was sandwiched between her mother and her husband, sniffling, her eyes red and swollen. Auntie Leonora more than had her hands full between trying to make Alice eat some stale looking chips and telling Soe to stop harassing the hospital staff. 

The first person to notice their arrival was actually Chef Doujima, who had kept a respectful distance from the family. 

“Nakiri-san, Yukihira-kun,” he greeted. “Despite the circumstances, I’m pleased to see both of you well.” 

“Why so formal, senpai?” Souma asked, all good-natured charisma as usual. “You seen my pops lately?” 

“I ran into him in Spain a few months ago,” he replied. 

“That’s more than I can say,” Souma said, and Erina couldn’t help but crack a smile. Even his own son couldn’t top Jouichirou’s vanishing act. 

“How’s my grandfather?” Erina asked after a pause. “Have they said anything?” 

“Two hours ago one of the doctors came out to say his condition was improving, but they haven’t let anyone see him yet.” 

“That’s a relief,” she said, and was about to ask a follow up question when Alice fell upon them. 

“Erina,” she called, waving. “What are you doing?”

“What?” 

“You look like hell warmed over. Trying to hide those duffel bags under your eyes with drugstore concealer. Honestly.” She shook her head, knowing she’d taught her better. “I bet you came straight here from the airport.”

“You’re one to talk, Alice,” Erina replied. “You’ve probably been sitting right there since you got in from Denmark. How about you go find something to eat that didn’t come out of a vending machine?” 

“Me? I bet you didn’t even eat anything on the plane because you’re so spoiled.”

“I’m spoiled? You don’t even fly commercial.” 

“You’re such a hypocrite, Erina! How is only flying charter any different from only flying first class? Just go get some rest, already.”

“I’ll go when you do.” 

At this point, Souma turned to Ryo who had quietly followed his wife over. “Do they always have to do this?”

“Every single time,” the dark haired chef replied. 

“Yukihira,” Alice said, suddenly shifting her gaze his way. “You’re slacking. Hishoko would have had a hotel booked already. Go take her somewhere to lie down.” 

“Uh...I tried,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“So you’re gonna take her side?” Erina asked. 

“What?” He glanced from Erina to Alice and back again. “How did I become part of this?”

“I told you not to get involved,” Ryo said. 

Just then, Nakiri Soe approached the group. “I was finally able to track down the right doctor.” 

“As expected of papa,” Alice said proudly. 

Soe adjusted his glasses, clearly moved by his daughter’s praise. “At any rate, we won’t be able to see father for another two or three hours. You two should take a break. I’ll call right away if anything changes.”

Alice glanced at her father for a long while and then sighed. “I’m honestly fine, but I suppose I’ll go for Erina’s sake.” 

“For my sake?” 

“Yes, for your sake.” 

The sounds of their argument continued all the way down the elevator shaft. 

“Who knew Mimasaka-kun had a restaurant around here,” Erina said as they went through the sleek chrome doors. 

“Everyone but you,” Alice replied. 

“Welcome to Silhouette,” the greeter said. “Would you prefer to be seated at the bar or a table.”

“Bar,” Erina said. “We may need to leave in a rush.”

“Understood.” The young girl led them to their seats with a pleasant smile. 

When the bartender asked for their drink orders, Erina only briefly hesitated before ordering a classic martini with two olives. “And you want a vodka cranberry, right?” she asked her cousin. 

“Just sparkling with lemon for me,” Alice replied with a sigh. Erina glanced at her, surprised. Alice almost never passed up her go-to drink. She blinked once, twice. 

“Alice...are you-” 

“Six weeks now,” she said with a sly nod, smirking around the rim of her glass. “Ryo thinks he’s getting a daughter, but it’s a boy. I can feel it.”  

“Congratulations!” Erina cried. “You...you’re going to be somebody’s mom.” It was a strange thought, really, considering how childish her cousin could be. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Erina,” Alice said as their appetizers arrived. “But yeah, I guess I am.” 

“Are you excited?” 

Alice shrugged. “Excited, a little terrified, wondering how all this is going to work with the restaurants and the research facilities. But Erina, I’ve been thinking lately.” 

“About?” She didn’t like the sound of her cousin’s voice, her playful lilt replaced with a more serious tone. 

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I was talking to Hayama the other day.”

Oh yeah. Erina kept forgetting that they were friends. “And?”

“He asked me for Hishoko’s ring size,” she said. 

“He’s gonna propose?” Erina asked, her chest welling with happiness for Hisako, and for Alice, but there was a more unsavory feeling encroaching on her bliss. Not jealousy, never that, but perhaps a twinge of...panic.  

“He’s gonna ask her to elope,” Alice said. “And now that Dr. Arato is officially a thing, it won’t be long before they end up with a pink haired brat or two.” 

“That’s...” She sighed, the feeling of panic slowly intensifying. “That is true. In  fact, I’m surprised they don’t have a kid together already. But what’s your point?” 

“Do you want kids, Erina. Like in general?” 

Erina shrugged. “Sure.” 

“And if you were married, or in some kind of long term relationship, you might want them sooner rather than later, right?” 

“Where are you going with this, Alice?” Erina asked. She was too tired to play mind games. 

“Listen, I love Yukihira as much as the next person, and I’ve always rooted for you two to be together, but Megumi left him for a reason.” 

“Do I look like Tadokoro-san to you?” 

“It’s Aldini-san now,” Alice said with a pointed look. “All I’m saying is if you can’t have the life you want with him, maybe it’s time to start seeing someone else.” 

“Alice, I appreciate your concern, but I am not having this conversation with you-”

“Good. Have it with him, preferably before you wake up in ten years wondering how you’re still a friend with benefits,” she instructed, just as her phone started vibrating. “We should get back to the hospital.” 

Erina sighed and paid the bill before her cousin could protest. “Let’s get going.”

Erina had sat with her grandfather for a long while, hours after Alice and her side of the family had gone home. It had been agreed that after he left the hospital, he would spend a few months with them in Denmark while he recovered. Doujima Gin would take over as headmaster of the academy, and Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini, who had spent years as his second in command, would become head chef of the Tōtsuki tourism department. 

Erina had stayed at her grandfather’s side, writing the contracts, making the calls, keeping her back straight and her voice steady despite the fact that she had never seen him so weak. 

After the business had been settled, they talked a bit. He told Erina how much she reminded him of her mother, the daughter who had been taken from him too soon. He had rarely talked about it when Erina was a child. Too painful, she supposed. But mostly they just sat, each wholly content and comfortable in the other’s presence. 

“Erina,” he said to her as it neared midnight. Visiting hours had ended long ago, but the Nakiri family was hardly bound by normal protocol. “Is that boy still out there?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I told him already that he could leave.” 

She had told him to go to the Airbnb, back to California, off to Paris, let him know in no uncertain terms that she did not expect him to wait for her. But there he continued to sit in the waiting room, reading yesterday’s paper and chugging what had to be his tenth or twelfth cup of coffee. Idiot. 

“Send him in here,” the former headmaster said. “There’s something I’d like to say to him.” 

Only the gods knew what that meant. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading! I’m thinking I’d like to wrap this story up in one or two more installments and then a short epilogue. The next chapter should resume right where this one leaves off. 

[drreporting]

Puppy Love Pt.8

Amelia.

October 6th. 3 Months Later…

“Hold on.”

I look at my beeping phone and see that Owen has sent me a message.

I need a drop to work today. I also need coffee.

“You can’t just say hold on during sex,” Ryan murmurs as he looks over my shoulder at my phone, “Why is he messaging you at 7 in the morning?”

“It’s Owen,” I say as I confirm his requests, “I have to say hold on for him.”

“You treat him better than you treat me,” he grumbles as he waits for me to finish my conversation with what he calls my soulmate.

“Not true,” I laugh as I set my phone back on the bedside table. I turn to him and cup his cheeks with my small hands, wrapping one leg around his waist. “I give you sex. He doesn’t get that.” I kiss him long and passionately enough that he almost forgets what we’re talking about. I can feel his excitement poking against me and, just when I think we’re about to return to our previous activities, he stops me.

“How do I know you don’t give him that?” he chuckles, rolling over to tower over me.

“I guess you’ll have to trust me,” I shrug, pushing him back to his side so I can get out of bed and get ready, ditching the idea of sex with him this morning.

“Amelia,” he whispers lowly and lovingly as I’m about to go to the bathroom. I turn and look at him, expecting him to ask me something. Instead, he says, “I love you.”

And, of course, I freeze.

-

“It’s not funny!” I groan as I stand outside Owen’s tiny shower, in his tiny trailer, in my brother’s large backyard.

“It’s hilarious,” Owen responds, laughing in between, “So you just stood there and stared at him after he said it?”

“No,” I whine, “I smiled, kind of, and then I just walked off.” I bring my hands to the sides of my face. “Oh god, he’s going to break up with me and hate me.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, making me roll my eyes, “But why didn’t you just say it back to him? You say it to me all the time.”

“That’s different,” I quickly dismiss, folding my arms across my chest, “I don’t know why I didn’t say it back.”

“Don’t you love him?” he asks.

“I do!” I say quickly. I do love Ryan, don’t I? It feels like love.

“Then why didn’t you say it?” His hand sticks outside the shower, attempting to reach for something. “You guys have been together for, like, three months now. Are you afraid of loving a guy with no aspiration or something?”

I sigh as I ponder my answer. “I have no problem with him being a diner cook, Owen. I’m just…” Saving it for the right person? “It’s stupid, I’m stupid.”

“Yeah, you are,” he agrees, still reaching for something, “The fact that ‘I love you’ is now being used in your relationship is questionable by itself. Now pass me the shampoo.”

“You have been absolutely no help to me,” I say as I go into his bedroom and retrieve the bottle.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Amelia,” he lectures me as I walk back to the shower. His entire body is naked and drenched, except for the shower curtain which is strategically hiding his lower half. “You should know what to do.”

“But I don’t know what to do Owen,” I retort as I hand him the shampoo bottle, eyeing the crest in the shower curtain that’s covering him, “And why do you have an erection at 8:00 in the morning?”

“Because I have male genitals?” he responds in confusion.

“Lemme see your small sword,” I giggle as I ruffle his shower curtain.

Owen and I have gotten extremely close over the past three months. We do almost everything together now, with Ryan of course. Sometimes we even share the same bed; that usually only happens when Ryan is working a night shift or if we’re both working a night shift. It’s so bad that most people mistake us for a couple. A person once thought I was in a polyamorous relationship with him and Ryan, that’s how bad our friendship is. I mean, I know what his penis looks like. That spells deep friendship. Maybe he is my soulmate, like Ryan says.

“Hey, cut it out!” he exclaims, his face turning red as we fight for the curtain, “You’ve already seen my junk before.”

“Yeah, but that was when it was all tiny and flaccid,” I tease, trying to take the spotlight off of me for the moment, “Although I’m sure it’s the same whether you’re…” The curtain slips a little and I catch a glimpse of it and pause. “Oh.” My cheeks turn red as I close the curtain quickly. “That’s…you’re…”

“Are you satisfied now?” he grumbles.

“You are going to kill someone with that,” I say in shock, “No seriously, whatever that is that you have swinging between your legs, don’t put it inside anyone’s daughter.”

“It’s not that big,” he mildly responds, “I mean, I know you only have Cardigan’s small penis to compare but-“

“Kerrigan, and we are not talking about Ryan’s penis, okay?” I cut him off, “And your stuff is nice, but it’s not monster big.  I could handle it if I wanted to.” I think…

“Really?” Owen says, his interest clearly peaked. The shower turns off and I see him reach for his towel before emerging in a billow of steam. “Handle it, then.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, you said it yourself; you can handle it.” He grins. “So, come on. Handle it.”

I roll my eyes and turn around to leave. “I’m waiting in the car. Ten minutes.”

“Fine,” he calls after me, “Continue your boring, 6 inch sex life with diner dash.”

---

“So…how’s your boyfriend?”

I raise one eyebrow and look over at Maggie. What is it with everyone asking about my failing relationship today? “Could you have asked that any weirder?”

“I’m just making polite conversation while we, you know, wait,” Maggie says, shrugging her shoulders.

I sigh and look down at my yellow gown and blue gloves. “I don’t really wanna talk about Ryan today.”

Maggie smiles. “Whatever’s wrong probably isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

I laugh bitterly. “Oh trust me, it is.” Just then, the ambulance pulls up, relieving me of awkward, revealing conversation with Maggie. I don’t hate Maggie, she’s just a lot. I know I’m a lot, but Maggie is a lot in a whole different way. She’s sunshine and rainbows and happy children all the time. It gets annoying sometimes. But she’s good at her job.

“Bring him in here,” Maggie instructs the paramedic, leading him to the first trauma room as they give us the bullet points for his condition. Once he’s on the bed, we begin to examine him.

“Sir, I need you to stay still,” I tell him, trying to hold down his arms, “We need to examine you.” He’s got a large laceration on his forehead, so I send Edwards to prep for a CT.

“Stop touching me,” the patient cries out when Maggie places her stethoscope on his chest.

“Sir, I just need to listen to your heart for two seconds,” she begs.

“Need an extra hand?” Owen asks as he enters the trauma room.

“I said stop touching me!” the man yells, throwing his fist at Maggie. The cardio surgeon instantly goes down and, before I can even check to see if she’s okay, or even protect myself, I see his other fist coming my way. I hit my head against something when I fall and I clearly hit it hard, because the room’s spinning around me and I can just faintly hear Owen yelling at me to stay awake. Beside me, Maggie is slowly sitting up, but the only thing I can see is Owen’s concerned blue eyes staring down at me.

---

“This has got to be the worst day ever,” I say with an ice bag pressed against the left side of my face.

“Worse than that day we tried LSD?”

“Okay, not worse than that,” I laugh. “This is probably my punishment for not telling Ryan I love him back.”

“This is not your punishment,” he chuckles.

“The universe is punishing me.”

“Let me see,” Owen says, slowly lifting the ice bag off my face. He cringes as he looks at me.

“How bad is it?” I ask, cringing too.

“You look fine,” he says in his high pitched, liar voice.

I grab the closest reflective object, a basin, and look into it. “I’m going to need stitches, Owen. How is this fine?”

“It’s fine because you’re not going to die,” he says, “I was really worried back there.” I look away from the basin and at him, seeing those concerned blue eyes from before. They make my heart flutter although I’m not sure why.

“How is your hand?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Oh, it’s fine,” he dismisses, covering his left hand with his right.

I ignore him and grab his hand to examine myself. About a week ago, I found out about Owen’s PTSD problem when he had a panic attack in work and throttled an on call room a wall. He made me promise not to tell anyone what happened, so I had to lie and tell the chief that the wall had a weak spot. Owen’s yet to tell me what caused the episode, but I imagine something related to his army years triggered it. He doesn’t talk much about his years of service.

“Is it still sore?” I ask him as I palpate his knuckles.

“A little,” he answers.

“Well,” I hum as I finish my check up, “It looks a lot better, so nothing is likely broken.” I look up and see him looking at me. “What?”

“You look horrible,” he laughs, “You better call your toy to take you home.”

“I’m fine,” I say as I stand up. I really don’t want to see Ryan right now. A sudden dizziness overcomes me and I grab onto Owen’s shoulders to steady myself. “Okay, maybe I should call him.”

---

I stand outside the ER entrance like a child being sent home early from school, waiting with Owen until Ryan comes for me.

“What am I going to tell him?” I murmur sadly, my hands wrapped tightly around me. I feel Owen’s arm wrap around my shoulder and I lean into his caring touch.

“Tell him how you feel,” he answers softly. Just then, I see him coming around the corner with my car.  Owen steps back a little, probably to give me space, as Ryan pulls up and comes out of the car. Initially, we both stare at each other, not saying anything. I can see that Ryan is stuck between being mad at me for earlier, and being worried about me.

“Hi,” he greets me with a soft, concerned smile, looking at my cheek and forehead, “He got you real good. Are you okay?”

And then suddenly, something comes over me. “Move in with me.” I clearly have a severe concussion.

“Um, that’s not what I meant,” Owen mutters.

Ryan stares at me dumbfounded. “Amelia, you wouldn’t even say you love me this morning. Now you want me to move in with you?”

“I love you,” I say, the words coming out of me like a dam that’s burst, “Now move in with me.”

His look of confusion slowly turns into a wide grin. “Okay.” My anxiety quickly shifts into excitement as he envelops me in a hug. I do love him. I don’t know why I ever thought I didn’t.

“Great,” Owen groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just great. Two extra people in the house is obviously what I need on movie night.”

[backtothestart02]

Flashpoint: Chapter 4 - Worth It

My completed preview chap for day 3 (fav WIP) of @wipweek. (Look at me popping out another one “so fast” lol)

Synopsis: My take on what Flashpoint could’ve been. Essentially. XD

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for being an epic beta.

Enjoy!

Chapter 4 - Worth It

“Take as long as you need,” his mother had said.

“Grab what’s most important to you. We can get the rest later.”

But Barry stood in the center of the living room in his apartment and wondered what exactly could be considered important.

He assumed clothes weren’t included in the necessities, since they didn’t hold sentimental value. They were likely in large supply at home too. He couldn’t have brought them all to school. And he had to have come home during summer and winter vacation, even if he had been in school for six years straight.

I mean – right?

He couldn’t be so paranoid about running into Iris that he just never went home.

Barry grabbed his toiletries because he figured those were less likely to be fresh and ready for him at home – probably. It all depended on how prepared his parents were for the rare occurrence of their son returning home for a visit after he’d left for college.

If it was rare, of course. Which is seemed to be, he thought. Maybe. He didn’t know.

Miraculously, he found a clean zip lock bag, tossed the toiletries inside, and set it by the door. He continued to peruse the room for anything of value, but at least on a surface level, he came up empty. He opened and closed cupboard and drawers, but everything was plain, ordinary. Nothing stood out. Another trip to the bathroom and then the bedroom didn’t change that. There were a few cool science-y things on a table near the window in his bedroom, but he felt no overwhelming desire to take them with him, so he left them behind as well.

He checked the fridge and freezer on his way, only mildly surprised to find them both completely empty.

Phone in his pocket, key with his mother, and bag of toiletries in his hand, Barry gave the tiny pigsty of a place one more look-over, turned off the lights, locked the door, and headed back down the many stories at normal speed, resigned to his fate.

It had been his idea, after all, to return home for the weekend. According to his mother, he had completed all his required classes the week before. Which was honestly a relief, since he didn’t know if he could draw on knowledge he’d never used before – or hadn’t in a while – unless it consisted of common sense facts, forensic science, or Flash business.

That was another subject he wanted to know more about. Was he still The Flash? Was he such a slob in Brooklyn, New York, because he was running back and forth between Central City and the Big Apple every time there was a crime? Or was he the Flash for this city? That would be a change.

Something inside him suspected not, though. How could the Flash be such a slob when he could literally clean any room in less than two seconds – one, if he was enthusiastic enough.

A thought gnawed at him that he couldn’t get rid of.

Was it possible that in this life he had never gotten hit by lightning, never gotten super speed, never become the Flash? And if that possibility was true, was it inevitable he’d lose his powers entirely?

It wasn’t something he wanted to think about. It wasn’t something he had been thinking about. He’d used his powers exactly one time, so he knew he still had them. He could feel the lightning running through his veins. It was rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It made him feel alive. It reminded him he had a purpose. Saving people. Being a hero. It gave him hope in all things.

When he’d first realized the significance of having super speed – and what it looked like… the streak of color tailing the brush of wind that followed him when he ran – It had sparked real hope in him for the first time in years that he could exonerate his father from prison. Because maybe someone who was just like him, who had the powers that he had, was the person really to blame for his mother’s death. After he realized that, anything was possible.

It had been two hours max since he’d woken up to a changed world, a timeline rewritten when he couldn’t take the grief of losing both parents despite winning everything else. Zoom was defeated. Iris was ready to be with him. She had actually told him she loved him. But it hadn’t been enough. Undoing his mother’s murder felt like the only way to fix everything and set him back on track. He could be a hero or he could just be a normal guy. It wouldn’t matter. His family would be a whole again. And some way, somehow, he and Iris would find their way back to each other again.

A year ago, he’d spent time thinking through the consequences of changing the timeline; of undoing an event that caused such a huge ripple effect. He thought about what he’d lose and what he might gain. Inevitably the cons outweighed the pros and he’d decided against wiping away half his life for a different reality. He loved his life, even with all the tragedy in it. For every bad memory, there was a good one to replace it. Even if Iris married Eddie, even if he had no mentor guiding him in his secret life as Central City’s hero, even with any difficulty that would arise in any aspect of his life, he still had a good life. It was worth living.

But this time he hadn’t thought. He had just acted. All he could feel was the weight of his grief and despair. How could he still be a hero? How could he still be the Flash? He was in no condition to and he couldn’t take a break from protecting his city. Nothing was enough to heal him. Nothing but this one thing. And so, he hadn’t thought. He’d only acted. He was so sure that even if the pros did outweigh the cons, the cons were so much more enormous. They could not be blotted out by a multitude of happy memories and experiences.

At least that’s what he had thought.

You’re not giving this a chance, the voice that had convinced him so assuredly that saving his mother was the right course of action urged. You may be a slob and you may still be in school, but your mother is alive! And so is your father! You don’t know the whole story. Go find out!

And if I lose my speed? If I lose my memories? If I lose all of it? The guilt and fear weighed down on him.

Go find out! was all that urgent voice said in response. And so, what could he do but succumb to it?

Barry switched gears and sped down the several remaining stories, just to remind himself that he could. The electricity humming inside him created a dizzying effect. It was one he would cling to as long as he could.

You don’t even know if you’ll lose your powers, the voice in his head scolded.

Barry ignored it and approached the front desk.

“Hi…”

“Becky,” she chirped, bright smile on his face. He wished he knew if they had some history in this timeline.

“Right. Is Mr. …uh, is the manager around? I think I need to pay my—”

“Your rent? Your mother already paid it, Mr. Allen.”

Barry’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t that he had that much cash on him, but his boss (or…ex-boss) at his latest place of employment had given him his paycheck he’d been planning on sending out that day. By some miracle, Barry had found an ID in the deep pockets of his jeans – he detested the lazy-eyed picture – and cashed the check at the bank (which took some asking around to find, but he did inevitably find it).

He wanted to do something responsible before he left, but it seemed he wasn’t allowed to even do that. How low were everyone’s expectations of him if he couldn’t even pay his own rent without his mother intervening.

“Oh,” he heard himself say, then forced a smile. “Thanks, Becky.”

She blinked, clearly surprised by his gratitude, which made him feel even worse.

“O-Of course, Mr. Allen.” She paused, looking at him differently, with curiosity it seemed. Barry was unsure how to take that. “Will you be returning for your graduation next week?”

“I…” His mind blanked for a moment, curious as to how she knew. It didn’t seem like he told anyone anything or had any friends. He certainly had no self-respect. That much was clear. “Yes,” he made himself say. “I assume so,” he added, which he thought was odd. He shook his head and turned towards the exit. “Have a good weekend, Becky.”

“You too, Mr. Allen.”

He hurried out the door, pushing the continued disgust at himself as far away as he could. Becky was surprised by his kindness, his sincerity, and his gratitude – things that he thought had always come naturally to him he.

The voice that always assured him turning back time was the right idea was annoyingly silent. Barry suspected it was because there was no reassurance to be offered and there would be even less in the future.

His mother was alive. His dad was alive. But everything else was so murky he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

…

 “Barry, honey?”

Barry blinked at the warm, soothing sound of his mother’s voice gently urging him awake. He turned to face her, a feat since his face had become plastered to the train window, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to focus on her face. She was smiling and it made everything inside him burst with happiness.

He never thought he’d see her again. Now here she was alive and in front of him. Soon he would see his dad again too. Everything that was wrong could be fixed. He had a whole lifetime to fix it. And in the meantime, the hole filled with anger and hurt and loneliness inside him that had dug deeper and deeper every night since the moment his mother was murdered had started to fill up again.

Undoing the past had been the right thing to do. It had to be.

That’s the spirit! The voice inside of him cheered, but it didn’t feel very reassuring.

“W-what?” he slurred, groggy from the on-and-off nap he’d been attempting during the long train ride from New York to Central City, Missouri.

“We’re—”

The intercom turned on. “Next stop: Central City, Missouri! If this is your destination, please gather your things and prepare to depart in the next ten minutes.”

“We’re almost there,” his mother said softly.

Barry nodded, sat up slowly and stretched. It wasn’t easy. The seats were cheap and there was more of him than there was space between the two of them and probably the next row over. Good thing I didn’t bring too much, he thought as his eyes wandered to the people gathering in the aisle to retrieve their belongings.

“Your father will be so excited to see you,” Nora said, but her voice sounded strained.

“Will he?” Barry asked quietly, not intending to ask her directly but she heard him anyway, as she tended to. He remembered that from his childhood.

“Of course,” she assured him, her hand on his. The gesture made his heart swell again. “It’s been so long since the two of you…” She stopped, apparently rethinking her words. “You just haven’t been home in a while.”

“I haven’t?” slipped out and he cursed himself for not keeping the thought in his head.

Nora looked concerned now – and with good reason, he thought. Her son couldn’t remember anything that was probably common knowledge.

“I haven’t,” he corrected, making it a statement, shaking his head as if his restless nap was the reason for any confusion on his part. He turned to face her more directly and looked very intently into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He saw tears well in her eyes and wondered what the hell kind of son he was if this was making her emotional.

“You’ve been busy with school…and your job…”

He thought back on the speculative, disappointed looks on both his apartment manager’s face and his boss at the pizza place. He didn’t know if he knew the woman at the school personally or not, but she wasn’t much impressed with his demeanor either. He doubted he took any of these things seriously in this life.

“At the pizza place?” he asked dubiously.

“A job is a job, Bar—”

He shook his head and held her hands tightly. “No.” He took a breath and then looked into her eyes again. “I’m going to do better, Mom. I swear it.”

He thought he heard a quiet gasp escape her, but he couldn’t be certain. All he knew was he was more determined than ever to keep this promise to her.

“I’m glad you decided to come home this weekend, Barry.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “My beautiful boy,” she whispered and then sank back into her seat.

…

 “Where’s Dad?” he asked, feeling the question was safe. He didn’t hear a sound when he walked into the house after his mother.

“At work,” she said, wandering into the kitchen.

“As in…an office building?” He paused, reconsidering his question. “Or, at the clinic?”

His father was a family doctor first and foremost. He didn’t know if that was different in this life, but it had to have been at some point. It was that way when he was a child.

Nora peeked around the corner and smiled. He couldn’t tell if it was forced or not from this distance. How genuine her reactions appeared to him usually keyed him in to what he was expected to know and what he could reasonably not know.

He wished he’d followed her into the kitchen now.

“I just…forget,” he said helplessly, trying a sappy smile to explain himself away.

She came out to the living room and he saw the smile for it was – another fake one. Something he should have remembered, or known. He didn’t remember anything.

“It’s okay, Barry. It’s been a while since…” She stopped, shook her head and appeared to be rethinking what she was going to say again. When she looked up at him, she was calm and collected, but that forced smile was still there. “I don’t think we even told you.”

He swallowed and nodded as she turned away and made her way back into the kitchen.

“Is there something I can make you?” she asked absentmindedly. “I made some lasagna last night and my mother’s sweet apple raspberry tea.” She smiled genuinely now, but Barry was distracted.

His eyes scanned the room and then he looked towards the stairs, a memory of his eleven-year old self racing down the stairs woken from the sound of his mother screaming in the living room.

“Mom!”

“Run, Barry, run!”

“Barry?”

He swallowed and faced her. By the look on her face he knew he’d been silent for too long.

“When can I see Dad?”

She stiffened. “He should be home in an hour or so.” She sighed and turned to retrieve the items she’d listed previously from the fridge. “Though maybe later.” She paused. “He likes to stay later on Fridays.”

Why is that? He wondered, but he suspected his questions were doing more harm than good, so he made a point not to ask it aloud.

“Grandma Rose’s tea, huh?” he said, indulging her as he stepped inside the kitchen.

Nora was all smiles when she turned around, the tray of lasagna in one hand and the pitcher of tea in the other.

“Mhmm. Want some?”

He grinned. “Absolutely. You know it’s my favorite.” He took both items from her and tried not to think about how touched she was that he heated up a plate for both of them and poured a drink for her, too.

“You haven’t forgot your way around the kitchen at all,” she said, clearly impressed when he finally sat down across from her.

The comment caught him by surprise, because truly he hadn’t been in this kitchen in years, not since he was a boy. He refused to believe it had been that long in this life, but the fact remained. And the reason behind her indirect query was as plain as day, as he knew it would always be.

He looked her in the eye and pulled the dazzling truth from deep within him.

“This is home.”

…

 It was late, almost midnight when Barry heard the door unlocking and he knew his father was home. He and his mom had fallen asleep on the couch watching old home movies – his idea. She was still sleeping with her head rested on his shoulder, the blanket he’d laid across her worn body starting to slip. He didn’t want to wake her, so he rose off the couch as slowly as possible and lay her head gently on one pillow. He adjusted the blanket so it covered her completely again and then quietly made his way to the foyer just inside the door. He hesitated a moment before stepping out of the shadows.

“Dad,” he said, his voice half-strangled.

“Your mother and I love-”

“Noooo!”

“Barry,” Henry Allen’s voice brought him out of the nightmare he’d fallen into. “Your mother told me you were coming home, but I… I didn’t believe it.”

Barry swallowed hard, wondering if the whirlwind of emotions arcing through him showed on his face. He tried to focus instead on his father’s voice and face and demeanor. He hadn’t known how to take his mother’s insistence on the excitement his dad would apparently have at him coming home. He’d half-wondered if he and his dad were estranged too.

There didn’t seem to be tension in him, and it did look like there was a smile starting to break onto his face. The opening was enough for him.

Barry crossed the short distance between them and wrapped his arms fiercely around his father. He tried to hold back, but tears trickled out and stained the skin on his cheek. He didn’t know if they traveled farther.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice muffled and wrought with emotion.

He’d explain this away later somehow, but right now he needed this and he didn’t care how it looked. Not forty-eight hours prior, Zoom had stuck a vibrating hand through his father’s heart in the same place his mother had been murdered, forcing Barry to witness it and sending rage rushing through him in his overwhelming grief.

Henry patted his back gently, clearly taken aback but not making any move to pull away. Then his arms wrapped snug around his son’s nearly shaking body and he held him close. Barry sank into him.

“I love you, too, son,” he said, then smiled against his skin. “Slugger.”

Barry sighed aloud in relief. Did he ever think he’d hear that word tumble past his dad’s lips again?

No. Never. He didn’t expect any of this ever again. Because his dad had been killed. There was no way he could hear any of it, let alone feel the strength of his arms wrapped around him while he sobbed.

“I’m going to do better, Dad,” he said fiercely, remembering the promise he’d made to his mom. He pulled back, tears streaming down his face. “I promise I’m going to do better.”

He didn’t know if it was an empty promise, one he’d made a hundred times before and never followed through on, but he knew he’d be keeping it this time.

Henry placed a firm grip on his son’s face, still not questioning the emotion flooding out of him.

“You being here, son? That’s doing better.”

Barry nodded, about to succumb to the tears again, so Henry pulled him close and let him sob. He didn’t know why he let him, but he was glad he didn’t ask. Right now, he couldn’t explain. He could just feel.

And what he felt wiped away all the doubt he’d had since he woke up in that pig sty of an apartment earlier that morning.

This was worth it. What he had done was worth it. This feeling of home and safety and strength and warmth would heal him. It was everything he’d known he needed to get past what had happened and truly live again.

“You and your mother didn’t finish all of that lasagna, did you?”

Barry laughed, in disbelief this was real. His dad was holding him, reassuring him, and now joking with him. It was so surreal, but he no longer questioned his good fortune.

Instead, he pulled back and grinned.

“We saved one tiny slice for you.”

“Oh,” he said, amused, and wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder as he guided them another route to the kitchen. “Just a tiny slice?”

“We were hungry,” Barry defended to which Henry shook his head. “Lots of Grandma Rose’s tea left though.”

“Well then, I guess it’s all worth it,” Henry said, sending a warm feeling to the pit of Barry’s belly.

Yeah, he thought to himself, it is.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.