#the way this anxiety has been weighing on my chest lately and dulling my time here is something that shouldnt be happening

[jimines]

.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3827 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 8 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The lobby of Stark Industries is bright and almost blinding compared to the dull grey that looms over the city outside. To make matters worse, the sky would darken into a deep black in just a few hours, a depressing casualty of setting the clocks back.

It was mid-November with winter closing in. You bundle up your coat, adjusting your scarf before daring to step outside. You were having a conversation with Steve, or at least you thought you were.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mr. Lee said, laughing as a confused Steve finally picked his head up from his phone.

Steve apologized as his cheeks turned pink, again. He was texting Peggy and he just couldn’t help the way he felt about her. They had gone on a few dates since they met on Halloween weekend and Steve was one-hundred percent smitten.

“Well anyway, I have to head to Metro-Gen now so you boys have a good afternoon,” you said, saluting them before stepping outside.

Your internship was going well. It had only been a few months but you were very comfortable working in this type of environment. You were familiar with the hospital and some of the ER staff other than Sam. You assisted Elena with her cases and tried not to forget everything you’ve ever learned while under pressure. It was scary but exciting and most of all you were happy to provide assistance and care to those that needed it.

When the weekend finally came you were thrilled to finish up your hours at the hospital. You were cold and tired, and really wanted to take off your bra immediately. Wanda was coming over which was rare since she and Sam became official. Any time he had off they tried to spend together and you understood it, especially with the hours required for his job but you really missed her and were happy to finally hang out after so long.

“So you seriously can’t eat this?” you said, taking a hefty dip of guacamole onto your chip.

“Uh yes I can bitch, don’t hog all the guacamole,” Wanda joked, pushing you aside as she grabbed the dish for herself. “I just can’t eat the chips.”

Wanda was always trying new diets, not that she ever needed to be on one. She was doing the Keto diet now and while you applauded her commitment you could never give up carbs like that.

She sat cross legged on your couch, moving her fork around her bowl absentmindedly as she worked up the courage to speak. “So I wanted to ask you something…”

A pang of anxiety hit your stomach as it tends to do whenever someone says those words, but you tried to remain neutral, wondering what Wanda was going to say.

“I know we usually have Thanksgiving together but Sam happened to be off this year and I know it’s really soon but he invited me for dinner at his parents’ house and I haven’t said yes yet because I wanted to speak with you first because I know it’s our tradition to do something together but– ”

“Wanda!” You had to shout her name so she could stop and take a breath. You smiled at her, letting her know you were okay with her having Thanksgiving with Sam. “I’m really happy for you,” you said against her ear as she leaned over to hug you.

That night you thought about Wanda and Steve, how they both got into a relationship on Halloween. Meanwhile, the only thing you got that night was a blister on your heel.

“Hey neighbor.”

Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall as he stepped out of the elevator, seeing you locking your door, with a laundry bag at your feet.

With everyone’s new relationships and Natasha prepping for a case no one has gone out since Halloween and things definitely felt a little weird.

“Hey,” you replied shakily, offering an awkward smile in return.

The truth was you were still upset with Bucky on Halloween. Well, not just you but the whole group. It had been weighing on you each day that passed without seeing him. The closer Bucky got to you and his door, the more nervous you felt and you really wanted to get this off your chest.

“Bucky… sorry this is out of the blue but…” You chewed on your lip trying to figure out exactly what to say.

His brows knit together. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a tense smile, wishing you hadn’t said anything in the first place, especially with the way concern filled those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Yeah I just…” With another big sigh you pushed the words out. “I thought it was kind of rude for you to ditch everyone on Halloween without saying goodbye. I know we’re not that close and you don’t owe me or anyone an explanation for wanting to leave or whatever but I don’t know, I just… needed to say that.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, feeling your heart pound rapidly against your chest as you waited to face whatever backlash there was after sharing your feelings.

Bucky sighed, letting his shoulders slump down. “I’m sorry Y/N. Honestly, that’s not how I wanted that night to end. But you were talking with that guy so I didn’t want to interrupt anything and everyone else had each other so I thought I’d do my own thing.”

“Guy? What guy?” You wondered out loud. When Bucky described him you realized he was talking about Bruce. “You thought something was going on with me and that guy? No, no. He’s a friend from work, just a friend.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to block… anything… just in case.” Bucky chuckled, flashing his bright teeth as he smiled. “Still that was a dick move of me so I’m sorry.”

You accepted Bucky’s apology, feeling a little better about why he left the way he did. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t have left with that girl anyway, not that you care, because you don’t. Although now that most of your friends were in relationships you were feeling a little envious. It’s not that you didn’t want to date but you were too focused on work and school at the moment.

“Well I guess I’ll see you later,” you said, picking up your laundry bag.

“Wait!”

Throughout your conversation one thing stuck out the most in Bucky’s mind, when you said you weren’t close. He really thought you were and he’s not sure why it affected him so much but he wanted to change that and make it right.

You’ve definitely become a good friend of his even if you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. And maybe he’s been a little busy lately, he hasn’t kept up on the group chat and didn’t think about how his lack of communication impacted anyone else. You were his friend, and so were Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Wanda. He wanted to do better and be there for everyone so he might as well start now.

“If you wouldn’t mind the company I actually need to do my laundry too.”

There wasn’t any hesitation as you nodded back to him, your lips pulling into a smile that grew wider when he returned one of his own. Bucky took a few minutes to gather his laundry and together you walked a few blocks to the laundromat.

It wasn’t too crowded for a Sunday afternoon which was a pleasant surprise so the machines were pretty available. Bucky shared his detergent with you which was kind, saving your quarters from buying the single use packs the shop offered.

You sat beside him on uncomfortable chairs, bouncing your leg to keep warm as you shivered. There was some heat circulating through the room, a muggy wet heat that poured out every time someone opened the machines to check on their still damp clothes. Bucky was a good distraction, keeping you focused on your conversation as you caught up on what’s been going on in your lives.

“Thanksgiving’s going to be a little weird this year with Wanda and Steve doing their own thing but it’s alright.”

Bucky heard the disappointment you tried to hide in your tone but your face didn’t mask the emotions as well. He listened as you explained this was your tradition since you moved to New York. Since you couldn’t afford to fly home for both Thanksgiving and the holidays you had to choose, and so every year you spent the day with friends.

“Why don’t you spend it with me?” he asked, watching as the corner of your mouth slowly began to turn upwards into a smile.

“With you? You don’t go to your parent’s house?”

Bucky’s expression softened, “Normally I do but this year they’re flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Rebecca.”

“Where does she live again?”

“It’s ‘they’ and Arizona.” Bucky rubbed the chill from his arms despite wearing a jacket. “Kinda wish I was there right now,” he chuckled.

The machines shook for their final spin cycle and you and Bucky got up in preparation to grab your clothes.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” you wondered.

“I’ve got a lot to work on plus I’ll see Bex soon, they usually come in for Christmas. So… is that a yes? I know I’m not Wanda or Steve but I’m still your friend.”

Bucky’s expression was hopeful as he awaited your answer. A beaming smile spread across your face as you replied, “Yes. I’d love to have Thanksgiving with you!”

If you looked at Bucky’s browser history over the last few weeks you would find a lot of food related searches: How to cook a turkey, how long to cook a turkey, how to cook a turkey fast, easiest way to cook a turkey, simple Thanksgiving dinner, Thanksgiving for 2, best Thanksgiving sides.

He wanted to make your Thanksgiving special but truthfully Bucky wasn’t the best in the kitchen. He could cook a few things but the idea of making a full Thanksgiving dinner was daunting and he couldn’t exactly ask his mother for help.

Since it was going to be just the two of you he finally found his answer– Thanksgiving dinner on a sheet pan. Bucky wrote out the list of groceries he needed, making sure he had everything needed so he could prepare the dinner.

You were working a full day at the hospital so Bucky had extra time to prepare for your arrival. His clothes were folded neatly, placed in his drawers that could now actually close. He made his bed, well he made sure the pillows were straight and draped his comforter over everything neatly. His instruments were gathered together neatly beside his desk and he made sure his bathroom was clean. Bucky spritzed his cologne in the air for good measure to make sure everything smelled nice.

Once that was done it finally dawned on him that he didn’t have a table. “Good job Barnes,” he scolded himself as he cleared away the last remaining clutter on the trunk that served as his coffee table. It would have to make do.

Bucky opened the package he bought at the store, a harvest themed tablecloth that was entirely too big for the trunk but with a few extra folds he made it look alright. It was an extra touch he hoped you would be happy to see. Checking his phone Bucky began to prepare the food, hoping to time it right for when you were coming by.

“No, no, no,” you cried, passing another bakery that was sold out of pies.

You hadn’t planned this properly. Not one bit. With Bucky preparing dinner you offered to bring the dessert and for some reason you thought making pumpkin pie from scratch would be easy. You were very wrong.

By the time you got home last night you were too exhausted to even look at the recipe. You needed sleep and had no shame in going to bed pretty much right away. The fact that it gets dark before five o’clock definitely helped you justify your early bedtime.

The genius idea you had was to wake up a little early so you could make the pie crust which might have worked out if you hadn’t overslept. Yes, despite the extra sleep you got your body wanted more.

Although you made it to work on time you ruined any shot at trying to snag a pie from any bakery along the way. Now you were headed home, defeated and upset with yourself for ruining Thanksgiving.

You trudged through the hallway, sighing heavily as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment. Your knuckles rapped against the door, waiting for him to answer. Bucky pulled open the door with a smile that dropped the moment he saw your face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” His hand came upon your shoulder as he offered comfort.

With another deep sigh you shook your head, “No… well yes.” You reconsidered your words, not wanting to worry him. “I ruined Thanksgiving.”

His mouth opened but Bucky didn’t speak, silently wondering why you think you’ve ruined something that hasn’t happened yet.

“I said I would bring dessert and I wanted to bake but I was too exhausted, so I thought I’d get something from the store but everything was sold out and now I feel like a shitty friend.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the way you pouted so seriously over something as insignificant as dessert.

“Hey, c’mere,” he said, opening his arms. You rested your head against Bucky’s chest wrapping your arms around him as he rubbed circles on your back through your jacket. “You didn’t ruin anything, doll, I promise.”

With a few more reassurances from Bucky you pulled away from his embrace, feeling a little better even if part of you was still disappointed. You told him you would be over in a few minutes, desperate to change your clothes.

Bucky’s door was unlocked and you let yourself in, now wearing a loose sweater and black leggings that would allow you to feel comfortable as you stuffed your face, and casual slip-ons your feet thanked you for. Bucky was equally casual, in a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans so you didn’t feel bad for underdressing.

You stepped inside seeing the coffee table set up in a themed tablecloth and a scented pumpkin candle that smelled delicious as it spread throughout the room.

“Dinner should be ready in a minute or so. Can I get you something to drink?” he asked as you set your bag down beside the couch.

“Wine, I guess?” You weren’t really picky to be honest, happily taking the glass of Pinot Noir as Bucky poured for you and himself.

Bucky barely had a chance to take a sip before the alarm on his phone was going off, his reminder to take the food out of the oven.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling out the sheet pan of turkey breasts surrounded by stuffing, green beans and sweet potatoes.

Your mouth was watering as you inhaled the enticing aroma. “Mmmm it looks delicious. Do you need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, telling you to relax. It was hard, because even though you were still pretty tired from the day you felt like you should be doing more than sipping wine on his couch. You stared at Bucky as he stood in the kitchen, dividing the food amongst two plates.

The muscles of his back were entrancing to watch as they moved beneath his shirt. Dropping your gaze you couldn’t help but stare at the way his jeans hugged his butt.

“You like what you see?”

Bucky’s voice seemingly came out of nowhere as you hadn’t realized he was looking over his shoulder.

“What? No, I’m… tired and stuck in a comfortable stare,” you laughed quickly, masking the awkwardness of definitely getting caught staring at his ass.

Bucky chuckled under his breath. He placed both dishes down, proud of the work he had done. Pressing his lips together Bucky had hope written across his face as he waited for your reaction.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to chew fast enough so you could tell him how delicious it was. A smile stretched across his face, happy that he made you happy, and then Bucky began to dig in.

There wasn’t much to watch after deciding to skip over all the football games and sitcom reruns but choosing from Netflix wasn’t much better. There were a dozen cheesy, romantic Christmas movies but neither of you wanted to watch any of those.

“Oh how about this?” Bucky asked as he flashed by Nailed It! Your eyes lit up with delight as you nodded your head. If there was one show that made you feel better about your baking skills it was watching these hilarious disasters.

Bucky had the cutest laugh. The sound itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but the way that his whole face lit up while he was laughing. The joy reached his eyes first with crinkles pulling at the corners, his nose scrunched up reminding you of a bunny, and that smile… Bucky had one of the nicest smiles you’d ever seen because it had the power to make your own greater just by looking at it.

You were crying with laughter as the contestants revealed their cakes, each one somehow more horrifying than the last. By the third episode you found yourself comfortably resting your head against Bucky. It was nice to have someone to hang out with like this again especially since Steve had rightfully been spending most of his free time with Peggy.

“I hope you don’t get your baking skills from this show. Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t make pie,” Bucky teased. Your immediate response was to playfully smack his leg. “Ow I’m kidding!”

“It would have been good, a thousand times better than this,” you gestured towards the screen.

Bucky cocked his head to face you. “So let’s make it now.”

Your head shook rejecting his suggestion. “It takes too long. The dough needs to rest for a while after you mix it and I don’t want to eat pie at two in the morning. Not when I have to get up early again.”

With another day off from Stark Industries you’d be spending a full day at the hospital, trying to chip away at all those hours you needed to do.

“It’s still early, we can make something right? Cookies? Is that the same dough?” Bucky asked, because even though you had to be up early he still wanted to spend time with you and he could also go for dessert.

“It’s not exactly the same but I have all the ingredients. Do you want to make cookies?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled as if on cue making both of you laugh.

Since it was easier to bake in your apartment you helped Bucky clean up the dishes you made in his, feeling it was rude to leave things a mess. Bucky didn’t want you to clean but you at least insisted on rinsing the plates clean and since you were at the sink anyway you ended up washing most of them.

You didn’t see the way Bucky smiled while watching you. This was probably the only time he’s felt comfortable having a woman linger in his apartment. His flings all begged to draw out their time, promising him pancakes or the best eggs and bacon he’s ever had. As hard as they tried, he shut them all down ushering them out quickly but things with you were different. You were friends and closer than he would ever be to any of the random names in his phone.

In your apartment Bucky helped gather the ingredients needed. Counter space and New York didn’t exactly go together, not in your price range, but together you cleared space on your kitchen table and set everything up there.

Bucky ignored his phone that rang as he cracked eggs into the large bowl you were using to mix everything together in. He picked up the bag of chocolate chips pouring a generous amount in the dough, not that you minded; the more chocolate the better!

Together you scooped up balls of dough onto a baking sheet and placed them in the oven.

“Bucky!” You turned to find him swiping his finger through the bowl of raw dough and eating it.

“What?”

“You can’t eat that you’ll get sick!” you protested, taking the bowl away from him and washing it before he could risk his chance of getting E. coli any further.

He sucked his finger into his mouth, smiling, “No one has ever gotten sick from eating raw cookie dough.” His comment had you look back, blinking in silence. “Okay well I’m sure someone has but it’s never happened to me.”

“I want you to enjoy these cookies Bucky, not vomit all over the place.”

He brought over the rest of the bowls that needed to be washed, this time taking over and returning the favor since you washed his dishes. “You mean you wouldn’t take care of me if I got sick?” He pouted, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Not a chance,” you said teasingly, unable to hold back your smile.

Checking your phone you pulled out the cookies just in time for them to be crisp and chewy. After letting them cool you let Bucky take the first bite this time, watching as his eyes rolled back as he let a sinful moan slip.

“So fucking good. You’re amazing.”

This isn’t the first time you’d heard similar praise coming from Bucky, and combined with the orgasmic look on his face it made you turn away with embarrassment, now having a visual of what things might be like at night on the side of the wall. You grabbed a cookie to distract your mind, biting into buttery perfection with a massive amount of chocolate thanks to Bucky’s heavy hand.

“Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Bucky. Tonight was awesome,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before wrapping your arms around him.

“You’re welcome Y/N,” he murmured against you, squeezing back a little tighter, both of you now aware of the friendly kiss you had given him.

Bucky left with a dish containing most of the cookies at your insistence. He couldn’t help but eat a few more when he was back in his apartment. Before getting into bed Bucky listened to the voicemail he received earlier.

“Hi James, it’s Mom. We missed you tonight. I don't know why your deadline was on a holiday but I hope you finished everything. I set aside some leftovers in case you wanted to come over tomorrow. Call me back. I love you.”

PART 10

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Cherry (Shinsou x Reader)

A/N: shinsou is my favorite, so im writing another one. reader is in a relationship with kirishima, but her best friend shinsou is in love with her and she is just beginning to realize she loves him back. 

Ps- I really do feel the quality of my writing has been declining recently and im so sorry. I hope at least some of you can still enjoy.

Word count: 5500

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It was a long process, falling out of love with Kirishima. Every time Y/N felt things were about to come to an end, he would show up with a bouquet of roses and her favorite candies, or he would buy them tickets to see a movie she was desperate to see and he would slip his arm around her shoulders, and he just felt so warm and inviting. How could she be giving up on such a wonderful guy? 

He was the perfect boyfriend. Had been for two years. Just why was she drifting away?

When he kissed her, she found herself more often than not just wanting it to be over.  Hugs practically diminished on her end, followed by holding hands, and calling him when she was upset and needed someone to talk to. 

Instead, she had reverted back to spending time with someone else. She felt like shit for it, not having realized how much she’d changed. Suddenly, when she felt the anxiety or fear of the hero world burdening her, she would call Shinsou Hitoshi. It was abnormal, really. They grew up on the same city block, and attended the same middle and high school. They were best friends.

They weren’t dating. Never had. Suddenly though, it felt like they should be.

She missed him, the close friendship they once had first year and prior. It wasn’t always that strong, this longing to see him, to talk to him, to have him wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against his chest. No no. She genuinely loved and wanted affection from Kirishima alone for a couple years. She was in love with him, that was never a lie.

Now her entire life felt backwards. She wanted the love of her best friend, and it weighed heavy on her. She felt guilty and disgusting for doing such a thing to Kirishima, who cared so much for her and always remained loyal. These new thoughts and feelings...she wished they would just go away. 

But were they even new? She loved Shinsou as a friend for so long, but there were always hints of something more. To him, she was his first friend, the only one who took the time to get to know him and not just his villainous quirk. She was a kind soul, a generous girl with a smile that could rock anyone’s world. He was her rock, someone there to bring her down to Earth when things get overwhelming. He was calming and brave and ambitious, and she liked that in a friend. More so, she liked that about him. She liked everything about him, each flaw, each scar, each vulnerable moment. 

There were certain aspects of their relationship she yearned for with Kirishima but couldn’t have. He wasn’t that deep. Their conversations felt empty and lonely most of the time. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he just didn’t know what to say around her to spark her interest the way Shinsou made her shine.

She lied in her dorm that night, the lights turned off and only the faint glow of the moon shining through her window. She tried to shut her eyes and sleep, to forget all about these feelings in her dreams, but nothing would help her relax. Time and time again she tossed from one side to the other, checked her cell phone for messages only to see none, listened to the ticking of her clock on the wall. The sheets felt scratchy on her bare skin, and her pillow and mattress were suddenly uncomfortable beneath her weight. 

Frustrated, she rolled out of bed and headed to the hall quietly, trying not to signal to the other dorms she was wandering. Maybe some water would do her some good, or some warm sleepytime tea to knock her out for the night. Sleep was something Y/N needed desperately.

As she turned the corner to enter the kitchen, she noticed a familiar mop of purple hair in the distance, attached to a lanky, heighty body she saw nearly everyday. He stood in an old school insignia t-shirt, leaning over the counter near the coffee maker. 

He was a weird guy, drinking coffee this late into the night. He never did sleep much though, everyone knew that. The bags under his eyes were evidence.

“Shinsou?”

He lifted his eyes from the counter, turning to look at the girl standing midway down the hallway. He was tired, just waiting for his drink to brew before heading back to his dorm. He was tired, but never enough to ignore her.

For hours that night, he just laid there with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling before he got up to move around. No use just laying in bed all night. He felt nervous being alone at night with her. There was always this bit of paranoia that Mina or Mineta would go and fabricate some rumor that Y/N was cheating on Kirishima with him. They were friends, and everyone knew that, but it was a thought that crossed his mind from time to time.  

Normally, she would just come to his dorm when she wanted to talk this late, which used to be most nights. That's always what she did, even if she had to sneak around after curfew. Since she started dating though, it would have been weird for her to be inside some other guy’s dorm that late. People would talk if they saw her entering or exiting, and it would start some drama. 

It just wasn’t worth it. Even though he yearned to feel her presence in person, to see her smiling face and her bright, shining eyes, it just wasn’t possible. That’s why he felt so nervous being seen alone with her at 3 am, the way teenagers talk...He just wished some people could mind their own fucking buisness and let him be a friend. For fuck’s sake.

So, nearly every night before either of them could fall asleep, she called him and just talked mindlessly for hours until one of them fell asleep on the phone (usually her). That night she hadn’t called him yet, and it made him anxious. Why wasn’t she calling him? Did something happen? Was she with Kirishima? He prayed she wasn’t in that guy’s room at this hour, doing God knows what.

He had no right to be jealous. He should just appreciate that she still wanted to be his friend.

Regardless, he was just happy she still spoke to him. She could have ditched him for her new boyfriend, he knew that very well, but she hadn’t. He took her attention for granted growing up, always having a friend to confide in. Suddenly, when she accepted Kirishima’s confession at the end of their first year, he felt his entire world crumbling around him. He never realized how much he needed her until that moment.

Admittedly, that day, his entire heart shattered into a million pieces for multiple reasons. He loved her. He wasn’t brave enough to confess to her yet, and suddenly that other guy swooped in and stole her right from under his nose. It’s not like he has the right to control who she went out with though. Nor did he have the right to be upset about it. She wasn’t his to begin with.

He just needed to stop being so selfish. He hated how this girl made him feel. He felt selfish and lonely and desperate. He found himself blushing when she spoke to him in class in front of other people, sometimes even staring at her when he thought no one was looking. Thankfully no one except Denki had noticed this. He promised to keep it a secret though.

He just couldn’t understand how she could love Kirishima. He just didn’t seem like her type at all. He was too wild, loud, and sociable. She was the opposite, and their relationship didn’t seem compatible whatsoever. It frustrated him.

He looked around the hallway to make sure no one else was there before, leaning against the counter and peering down at her. Her eyes were dulled from what appeared to be stress, and this only confirmed his suspicions that something had happened. 

“Are you okay, Y/N? You didn’t call me tonight; I was worried about you.”

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her torso. She always did that when she was deep in thoughts or something was making her uncomfortable. He could only hope it wasn’t something serious. She bit her lip and looked at the wall, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know, Hitoshi. I really don’t know what I’ve been feeling lately,” she whispered. “I’m just so confused.”

“About what?”

She felt tears bubble up in the corners of her eyes, and she had to choke down a sob. Quickly, she wiped away her tears in an attempt to hide them and be strong, but she just couldn’t. Her eyes became soaked quickly, and hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks without any sign of stopping.

“I don’t know if I love Kirishima anymore. I don’t know what’s going on with me and why I'm doubting my relationship like this,” she cried, trying to keep her voice down to avoid any eavesdropping. He peered down the hallway again to see no one and no lights on. 

“Did something happen?”

She just shook her head again, pressing her hands to her eyes and letting out another sob. “No. He’s been so nice to me as usual. He always compliments me and takes me out on dates, but lately it just doesn’t feel the same,” she explained, “When he hugs me, I just want to push him away. And he’s always asking for kisses, and I can’t give them to him anymore. Just the thought of kissing him makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

“Oh.” How could he respond to that. It felt too personal, too intimate for him to be hearing. Guilt built up in his chest as she spoke more and more.

“It just feels so wrong, Eijirou touching me.”

He didn’t know what to say. They seemed to have a perfect relationship. He never doubted if they would stay together or not. it  always seemed so obvious, so hopelessly obvious that she loved him. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m so confused all the time.”

“About what?”

“I-I…” Honestly, she was confused because recently she felt herself wanting Shinsou to hold her instead, to ask her for kisses and hold her hand, for him to be the only one to make her laugh and smile. She missed going to his room late at night and talking to him until the sun came up. She wanted him. And it made her feel so fucking shitty. How could she just abandon Eijirou because she was in love with someone else all along? 

She couldn’t possibly tell Shinsou that. Not only would she lose her boyfriend, but also her best friend in the entire world. She couldn’t handle that type of loss.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself,” the boy assured her, placing a hand on her upper arm. She shook off his hand and instead reached out to hold his hand in hers. Immediately, he could feel the tremors running down her arm and through her hand. “Just take a deep breath. Calm down, this isn’t a crisis.”

“I don’t want to break his heart, Hitoshi. He’s treated me so good, and he’s such a nice guy. I feel so bad.”

“You’ll only make it worse for him if you stay with him and continue lying, saying you love him,” he sighed, thinking over the situation without bias. Sure, he wanted them to break up, but in reality, how could he do such thing to a friend like Kirishima?  “But if you think you might fall in love with him again, I don’t know what you should do. Maybe talk to him about how-”

“I shouldn’t stay with him.”

“If that’s how you feel…” he trailed off. It seemed she was going to break up with him. He didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved. On one hand, she wouldn’t need to split her attention between Kirishima and him. On the other hand, it wasn’t like she would go out with him. They were just friends this whole time, and it would be weird for him to ask her out right after she got out of a relationship. 

She sucked up her tears, sobs turning to little sniffles and tears drying up on her cheeks. She still held his hand, squeezing every now and then. He knew he shouldn’t let her do this. He should have just stayed in bed. He felt scandalous standing here in the dark with her, holding her hand and telling her to break up with her boyfriend. He wasn’t a homewrecker by any means. Right now he sure felt like one.

Finally, when she was done crying, she took her hand away from his and wrapped it back around her waist. “Do you know what it feels like to be in love with someone?” she asked him so softly he almost didn’t hear her, and his train of thoughts diminished. She didn’t look him in the eyes once again, finding it too intimate to do so. 

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened a bit, and suddenly, she felt her heart sink in her chest. She wasn’t the only one who had fallen in love with someone else it seemed. To be upset about that was wrong, that much was obvious. Was it right for her to be upset when she had dated this whole time and he was alone? She scolded herself, angry for even having such thoughts.

“Really? You’re in love with someone?” 

“I’ve only ever been in love with one person almost my whole life, at least, I’m pretty sure it’s love,” he confessed, feeling his heart thump in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was telling her this. Her of all people did not need to know how he felt. He might end up letting it slip that the true object of his affections was her. This whole time, nearly three years of knowing each other, she was the one he longed for. “It used to make me feel so happy, but now it just makes me sick.”

“Why did you never tell me? We-we never used to keep secrets,” Y/N asked quietly, despite not having any right to question his privacy like that. She had more than enough secrets herself.

“Just wasn’t worth talking about.”

Silence for a moment, tense and frustrated silence besides the harsh post-cry breaths from her lips.

“Do they love you back?”

“My guess is no.”

“That sucks,” she breathed, letting out a breath of air she was holding. “Who is it?”

“You really don’t want to know, Y/N,” he told her. “You should be going to bed. It’s late and you have a lot of thinking to do.”

“O-okay. I guess you’re right. “ She took a few steps back, biting her lip. Her heart felt as if it beat loud and echoed in the hallway. Her head was spinning with thoughts and fears and a strange sense of hope. She cared for Hitoshi, more than she cared for anyone else. He was her best friend. The way he looked at her, she’d always wondered what it meant. He’d been in love for a while now. It all made her feel an awful kind of nauseous in the pits of her stomach.

She had one more question to ask. 

“Is the person you love me?”

And suddenly time stopped. He felt his heart skip a beat, and stress build up in his chest. Why would she ask that? Put him in that sort of position? He couldn’t betray Kirishima like that. He would never be the bad guy. He clenched his fist by his side, and  resisted the urge to tell her the truth, to confess everything he had ever felt, all the heartbreak and the jealousy and the long nights missing her. 

Instead, he lied. 

“No, it’s someone else. Now go to bed.” After he said those words, she didn’t even bother to say goodbye, she just walked away with her head hung low. She turned the corner to go to her dorm room and he stayed where he was. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and his nose, trying to calm himself down. 

After a couple seconds, Denki walked out from the living room. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking to his friend who was obviously confused and upset. “Dude...”

“Kaminari, don’t say anything about it.”

“I swear, I won't,” he assured, raising his hands in front him innocently. “Listen, I-I don’t know how you’re feeling right now, Shinsou, but uh, if it means anything, I hope it gets better for you.”

The purple eyed boy looked down at his friend curiously. “What do you mean? Nothing is wrong with me.”

 Kaminari pushed his bands back over his head and sighed, “Trust me, we all saw how heartbroken you were when she started going out with Kirishima. It must suck to have to deny it over and over again.” His heart stung at the words, feeling so harsh and bitter in his ears. It had been a long time since he thought about the anger and frustration he felt toward the situation, how furious he was when he lost his chance, and how stupid he felt watching them together each day. To be so unloved. It felt so fucking pathetic. 

“I don’t really give a shit either way,” he mumbled.

The blond rolled his eyes, feeling the negativity roll of his friend in waves. “Yeah, okay.” 

“It’s really not important either way. What matters is that she’s happy, and no one fucking cheats on anyone. We’re all friends here, and I’ll make sure there are no mistakes on my end.”

There was silence for a moment, thoughts running through both their heads. They both knew how important this was to him, and the pain of his heartbreaking was almost palpable. He clenched his fist at his sides, trying not to lose his cool. He wasn’t going to let something like this ruin his life, even if it tried its hardest to. He still had her a friend, she still cared about him; why was he so upset? So what if they weren’t dating? He should just appreciate that. 

“If she breaks up with Kirishima...what then?” Kaminari asked tentatively.

“Most likely, nothing.”

“You won’t tell her?”

“Hell no.”

“Why?”

“It’s better to have her happy with me as a friend than to tell her how I feel and ruin everything. I’m content with what we have, and my parents are proud of me for having a friend like her. I don’t want to imagine if we had a fall out and suddenly she’s not there anymore. I’d be so ashamed and alone again.”

“What if she confesses to you?”

“Then I’ll give her all the love I have.”

__________________________________________________

 For days, Y/N had thought about the conversation she had to Shinsou the other night, where she confessed her falling out of love with her boyfriend. Her heart was confused, and it pained her to think that she would have to tell Kirishima soon. She found herself biting her nails more often and skipping meals out of stress. It was ridiculous to panic this much over something as trivial as a break up, but she was so afraid of breaking his heart.

Kirishima, since the beginning, was nothing but a sweetheart. He complimented her, and walked her to class, helped her with all her training, and made sure she was always content. He was tolerably affectionate while still being respectful. He made her smile, and that was a lot considering these past few years had brought anger and depression. He was so kind and sweet, and she hated doing this to him.

As she walked into the common room, she noticed it was practically vacant except for Uraraka and Tenya studying at the table and Kirishima munching on some chips by the television. He was peering down at his phone, scrolling through some photos. She bit her lip, peering behind her as if to escape the situation at hand. 

Was it time? Had she waited long enough to think her decision over? Was she still in love with him or had her feeling completely gone away? She felt strongly that she didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with him, yet the impending life change of being single without the redhead by her side was daunting. She was scared of leading him on, but at the same time, the loneliness almost made her stay. 

After a long breath, she walked over to the couch and took a tentative seat beside him, maintaining a foot or so of distance between them which previously would have been filled, her squished to his side with his arm around her shoulders. 

“Hey, Y/N-chan,” he smiled, “Want some?” He held out his bag of snacks, only for her to shake her head. 

“What’re you looking at?” she asked, peeking over at his phone screen. He held it up, showing some family insta photos. “Ah, okay.”

“Yeah, my cousin uploaded some holiday photos, and I’m just going through them,” he commented, showing her another photo of him and his aunt at the beach wading through the ocean water. 

She opened her mouth to say something before shutting it, taking in the photo for another second. Kirishima looked great there, so full of life and free. Her heart clenched again, thinking about how, if she were to break up with him, she would miss those joyous smiles directed at her. She winced, avoiding eye contact, “You all look so happy.”

“Yeah, we were.” He nodded, shutting his phone off with a click. Carefully, it tucked the phone into his pocket and shifted in his spot to face her, one leg folding to rest on the couch while the other still hung off. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask- You’ve been off lately. Sad.”

“I-I didn’t think you noticed. I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled, finding her fingers in her lap very interesting all of the sudden. She felt his index finger tap gently on her shoulder, and her eyes slid up to meet his for a moment. He wasn’t upset. He held a soft smile on his face and his eyes hadn’t lost their shine. “I-I actually have something to tell you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She raised her head, her eyes a bit wider than before. “Oh, okay. You can go first then.” Maybe he would say something that could convince her to stay with him, she thought. Maybe what he had to say could turn this entire thing around and make her change her mind, forget all her doubts. 

That was impossible, and she knew it.

“I think we should break up.”

She felt her heart stop beating in her chest. 

What?

That was one of the only things she hadn’t imagined coming out of his mouth. He still smiled at her as she spoke, and she felt shocked and tense. How could he be so calm, saying something like that? 

All she could muster out was a soft, “Why?”, too emotional to think of much else and speak it coherently. 

“Because you’re not in love with me, and that’s okay,” he sighed, placing a hand on the shoulder, his hand running up and down her arm soothingly. She felt the kind, but curious eyes of Ochako lift to watch the interaction, and Y/N couldn’t blame her for wanting to eavesdrop. Y/N was terrified. Despite his gentle and calm nature, she worried she had done something wrong to make him hate her, wanting to break up.

She whispered, “B-But, Eijirou, I do love you.” but, God, was she confused. She didn’t love him, but she didn’t want to deny years of her life either. “I-I don’t know anymore, but-”

“It’s okay. I know you aren’t in love with me,” he told her, stopping her from rambling on any longer. “It’s always been about him, hasn’t it?”

“Him?”

“Shinsou, obviously. We all could see how he felt about you, but I thought maybe you just saw him as a friend and I was willing to fall in love with you,” he sighed. “But, I knew you missed him. I knew you had a special relationship with him that you and I could never have.”

“Eijirou, you don’t understand. I always loved you. Shinsou was my friend, and yeah, I missed our close relationship, but I enjoyed every second with you. I loved you so much.”

“I know. I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying that maybe you can love two people at the same time, and one person will always be more important deep down” he suggested. “You never cheated on me, of course. You’re not the type of girl, and Shinsou definitely isn’t the kind of guy to steal someone’s girl.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” she cracked, placing her hand over her eyes to avoid his. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I wanted to be with you forever. God, I loved you so much, Eijirou.” Tears had pooled in her eyes and she let them drip down silently, soaking them up with the sleeve of her sweater. “I realized a couple months ago how I felt about him but I tried not to acknowledge it. I thought it was gone, but it’s not, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

He reached over, wrapped his hand around her, moving her hand from her face. “It’s okay. Sure, I’m gonna miss you a lot, but it’s okay.”

“I don’t get it. Why aren’t you upset with me? I betrayed you,” she asked, staring into his eyes. He only eased further, his brows softening, fingers squeezing around her tighter. 

“I can’t even be mad. That guy, he loves you more than anything. He has since before I met you. You are his entire world, and I’d be damned to take that away from him.”

She stopped him, her brows furrowing. “Shinsou doesn’t like me like that. He told me himself.” She felt her becoming more confused than before. How could Kirishima be so sure about Shinsou’s feelings for her when they weren’t true? She did love Shinsou, that was the truth, but she didn’t have a chance with him.

“Are you kidding?”

Shaking her head, she assured him, “No. He told me he was in love with someone and it wasn’t me.”

“You should talk to him again. Like, go now. Find him.”

She shook her head, but he was already pulling her by the arm from the couch. “Baby, Y/N, I care about you, and I’m making you find Shinsou and be happy, and you better not fuck it up,” he explained, pushing her forward a bit so she stumbled away from the couch and toward the hall. She turned to look over her shoulder, the redhead smiling and waving for her to move forward with the task at hand. 

Ochako caught her eye, who was looking at her beside a bored Tenya. She sent over the shyest of smiles and nodded encouragingly. Y/N felt embarrassed, realizing that the entire class knew about their supposed connection before she did, and even now he had a hard time accepting it. Shinsou Hitoshi was not in love with her. It was impossible. He never mentioned it or let off that he cared for her anything other than a childhood friend. 

She pulled out her phone from her pocket, and searched for his contact. The dial rang in her ear, and she was tempted to hang up before he could answer, run to her room, and pretend nothing even happened. She feared so much change, and it seemed so much easier and safer to hide under her covers and sleep until everything went back to normal. 

“Hello?”

“Hitoshi, where are you?” she asked, her voice just barely quivering. 

“Uh, I’m outside on the lawn with Midoriya and Todor-”

She hung up the phone before he could say anything else. She rushed down the hallway, an urgency to each step she took, steps closer to the purple haired boy she cared so much for, her best friend. She was so scared, she could feel her teeth clicking and goosebumps bubbling up on her arms, the hairs standing on end into her long sleeves. The sun shining through the door was all too bright for such a situation, and she had to squint as she left the building out the backdoor. 

Indeed, across the lawn were the 3 boys, sitting together on the ground with empty bottles of water lying amongst them. Todoroki stood with a wet towel slung over his shoulder, sweat soaking through his tank top. Meanwhile, Midoriya sat with his notebook in front of him scribbling down quick notes no doubt things he’d taken note of during training moments before.

She felt exposed in front of the other boys, but honestly what other eyes could she care about than the violet ones drawn right on her scrambling figure. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked as she approached. She came to sudden halt right at his feet, her arms crossed over each other to hug her torso tightly, trying to quell down the ripples of anxiety coursing through her. Now, as she stood in front of him, she felt excitement building up in her stomach, butterflies (as cliche as it sounds) tossing and turning. 

“Hitoshi, you lied to me, and-and you need to tell me the truth.”

“Lied? About what, Shinsou?” Midoriya asked, peeking up from his book for a moment to get in on the action.

Shinsou shook his head, not quite sure what she was talking about. He noticed the dried stains of tears on her cheeks, and the way her body was tucked inward, practically hiding from him. He racked his mind for answers, but he couldn’t think of that she could possibly be talking about. 

As she stared down at him, she felt power surge through her, courage to confront him. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could even think about censoring herself. It didn’t cross her mind that their friends were gathered around. The only thing she could think about was him. “You’re in love with me. You’ve always been in love with me, haven’t you?”

“Y/N, what-”

“Just tell me,” she said, “Kirishima just fucking broke up with me because of you.”

He stood from his spot on the ground, and suddenly he towered over her. Yet, she wasn’t intimidated. She just stared up at him as his face morphed into one of horror and shock. “Listen, Y/N, I had nothing to do with Kirishima breaking up with you. Don’t go blaming me-”

“He broke up with me because I’m in love with you. I love you, Hitoshi, Jesus, I really do.” It was completely silent. Midoriya sat there on the ground in shock, his mouth fallen open and his eyes widely staring at her. Shinsou only stood there, the words she had just spoken rolling through his mind over and over again. “I should have told you the other night when we talked, but everything you said changed my mind.”

When Kaminari suggested that she might confess to him, he completely brushed it off. There was no way she could feel the same way about him. They were friends. She dated people this whole time without ever showing any signs of wanting anything more than friendship. But somehow, everyone knew but him. 

“I-I thought I loved Eijirou, but it was always you. I feel so stupid not realizing all this time.”

He finally spoke, voice quiet, hesitant, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N, you really wasted 3 years of my life, didn’t you?” he asked. Her eyes widened, and she looked to him with surprise written all over her face. Was he angry, she worried, hugging herself tighter just in case. Before she could make a move, he had brought his hands up, one resting on her cheek while the other pressed to the back of her head, pinky finger skimming her neck and sending shivers down her spine. 

He leant down and pressed his warm lips to hers. Her entire body stiffened at the sudden and unexpected touch, but just as quickly as it came, he had relaxed into his grasp. For a moment, she kissed him back, lips moving ever so gently across his own, the smell of minty gum filling her senses.

As he pulled away, she relished in the taste of his tongue on her lips, running her own along her bottom lip. 

“I-I see,” she stuttered, not daring to make eye contact now after that. How embarrassing. 

“Yes, I lied,” he confessed, “I have loved you for so long, Y/N. God, I wish you would have realized sooner how you felt.”

She nodded, peering up into his eyes shyly. His shone so brightly with happiness and pride, and she felt her heart swell up in her chest. “I really missed you, Shinsou.”

“I missed you, too.”

[i-okamie]

How Did I End Up Here ? Ch5

Ch1 // Ch2 // Ch3 // Ch4 //  Ao3

Lena is staring at the door Jess has closed behind her.

For some reason seeing it shut makes uneasiness swell inside of her, slowly constricting her chest. Her breath is not as easy as mere minutes ago and Lena can feel her hands shaking. She knows the feeling is irrational: Jess can still hear her if need be, her security team has been called by now and is standing at the ready, and it is not as if Alex is here to hurt her …

Right?

Lena tries to swallow down her anxiety, feeling it closing her throat ever so slowly.

A few months ago, the two women had grown closer and closer through working on some scientific projects, watching over Supergirl and making sure the missions would go as smoothly as possible, and of course spending time with Kara. They even used to team up every now and again at game nights, spending the whole time boasting while the other tried to minimize the damages the best they could.

It seems like a whole different life, Lena thinks, so much has changed.

Lena had learned all about Kara’s real identity as a super hero, they all had been transported to a new planet after earth-38 had been destroyed, she had developed non-nocere out of a place of hurt and despair, hoping it would fix things.

She had worked with Lex.

Out of all those things, this one makes her feel sick. She had done so willingly, believing everything he had told her, believing that maybe the brother she had known and loved all those years before had come back to her, having her best interests at heart. Someone really cared about her. Of course he knew everything of her deep desire to be accepted, to be truly seen for who she is, he had played that string just right, and Lena had been all too happy to do as she was told.

A puppy eager to please.

The brunette had used that comparison to describe Kara more than once while she had manipulated her, biding her time till she could get her hand on Myriad and set her plan in motion. But had she really faired any better?

Reality had caught up with her, hard and fast. All the warnings from Kara had been true and Lex had once again let her down, once her purpose had been served. And sure, she had helped fighting Leviathan, but she couldn’t erase what she had done during the last months, the superfriends making their distrust clear through all their side glances and the general stiffness while she was at the DEO to help them handling that situation.

And ever since that menace had been dealt with, none of them had reached out to her, wondering how she was doing after all what she had been through. She had hoped against all odds that one of them would ask for news from her, from sheer politeness at worst. But nothing happened. No visit, no phone call, no text. The only one that had cared enough to come to her once things had settled down had been Kara, and of course she had to send her away out stubbornness, holding on her hurt and betrayal like a life line, and using harsh words to make sure the other woman would hurt just like she does.

By the time her blood had cooled down enough for her to think rationally again, it was too late to apologize, the Luthor pride getting in the way, and all Lena had done was pouring herself another drink to try to dull the ache in her chest.

Her wish had been granted. She had not heard from her ever since she had issued her threats. She was on her own all over again, and this time she couldn’t blame anyone but herself.

Agent Danvers has all the reasons to be mad at me, Lena winces internally. To want to see me hurt after what I did to her sister. In her position I would.

Seeing Alex standing here, dressed up as if about to go on an intervention, made Lena reconsider her position. If usually she was the figure of authority in that room, the tables had turned.

Unconsciously the CEO leaned back into her chair, adding some distance between herself and the other woman. Her posture was slowly turning more defensive, despite being all too aware that if the agent had set her mind on hurting her there was very little she could do, especially given her condition lately. Slow reflexes and shaky legs would make it  easier for the special agent.

And wouldn’t she like that? Lena feel a chill running down her spine.

Alex had been the most suspicious from them all, always telling Kara that a Luthor would never change, always keeping an eye on her and quick to paint Lena as the culprit of whatever happened in National city. The short haired woman would surely love to see Lena try to escape her only to trip and fall. Maybe she would catch her, not willing to see the game being over too soon, before backing her against a wall and relishing into finally having a Luthor at her mercy.

Lena could picture it and the thought makes her dizzy, her heart pounding in her chest in a fight or flight reflex.

But for now Alex is just standing in front of her desk, looking at her with a mix of confusion and concern painted on her face. If not for her straight posture and uniform, one could think she is a concerned friend paying Lena a visiting to see what is going on.

Why would Alexandra Danvers of all people be concerned about her? Or is it away to get Lena letting her guard down? To fell safe before pulling the rug from under her feet?

It’s barely 11am, but Lena is still too hungover, and the fear in her chest too oppressive, to give much thought to what is on Alex’s mind. Agents are trained to have a neutral expression at all time. The brunette has only ever seen the other woman wearing that kind of expression when something involving loved ones happened. When Reign had beaten up Supergirl into a coma. When Kara … when Supergirl had been poisoned by kryptonite. Maybe it’s about Kara, maybe there is …

“Lena, did you hear me?” Alex says, raising her voice slightly to catch the CEO’s attention.

“Sorry, what?” Lena jumps in her chair, shaken back into reality by the raised voice. She had completely lost track of what was going on around her.

What a way to prove your not a mess, or completely freaked out at having a DEO agent in the same room as you, Lena thinks bitterly.

Alex sights, stepping forward to get a closer look at her.

“Lena” Alex starts, sounding hesitant “I know we’re not friends and I won’t pretend that we are in good terms at all. But what the hell is happening?”

She leans closer into the CEO’s space, and Lena doesn’t know when she grabbed the armrests of her chair but now she is holding tight on them.

“Take a seat please” she says curtly, with a jerk of her head. “And I don’t know what Kara told but everything is …”

���Please, humor me Luthor” Alex stopes her before sitting down on the edge of her chair, as if ready to pounce on her.

Lena hates how such a detail makes her anxiety swells up even more. Get a grip of yourself, dammit!

“No need to be a genius to see you’re not okay. The dark circles under your eyes, your agar look, your jumpiness and the increase in security … I can put two and two together.” Alex gives a pointed look toward her slowly healing hand, causing the brunette to anxiously rub the scabbing still holding on her palm since she seems unable to let it heal properly and regularly find herself picking at the scabbing. Many blood-stained shirts being the collateral victims of her nerves.

Alex takes Lena’s silence as her cue to keep going.

“Besides, Kara didn’t say anything from the last time she came here. She only came back with the look of a kicked puppy and refused to pipe a word about you.”

This catch Lena’s attention. Kara didn’t talk about what she witnessed? Lena was sure she would have told her sister about she had seen at Lena’s place or at least about their last exchange “… I’m not my brother but it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep a kryptonian at bay if need be.” Now that she was thinking about it, not seeing a DEO squad barging in her office should have clued her on the fact that Kara didn’t share about their last exchange.

“And that’s probably the more worrying of all this!” Alex continues “Usually I have to sit through hours of Lena this, Lena has invented that, Lena explained me this, … she is unable to stop talking when it comes to you.”

Lena snorts softly at the agent clear exasperation, happy to see that the blonde woman can get under anyone’s skin.

Though a quiet Kara is a foreign concept to her, given that this woman is able to babble about any topic for hours on end. That’s something Lena had thought endearing about her, listening fondly to her former friend just to see that thousand watts smile she reserved for Lena.

That was before she learnt the truth. The endless rants about food, books or series had turned into endless streams of apology whenever she was next to the CEO, the superhero not noticing how this would only fuel her anger. Lena couldn’t stand watching the blond-haired woman looking at her with her blue eyes full of unshed tears, stammering meaningless apologies to her while she had been the one deciding to lie to Lena for years.

Alex as well. No matter how many times Lena had answered her calls and come rescuing her alien sister, she had never dimmed the brunette worthy of her trust.

Lena rubs her temple, trying to reign on the anger, hurt and anxiety threatening to drown her from the inside. She cannot let Alex throw her off balance, she won’t give her this satisfaction.

The agent stops talking to give her a thoughtful look, as if weighing her options.

“God I understand Kara’s better now … Lena, are you okay? Do you need help?”

What? Lena is struggling to process what the agent is saying.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but … the DEO trains us to analyze people behavior and you’re looking and acting exactly like a victim in denial, or someone being blackmailed” the agent rushes out, not leaving time for Lena to stop her “Given your family history and reputation and your position as a fortune 500 and young CEO, both are probable options. So what is it?”

[one-leaf-grimoire]

the knight who pierced the king's heart

knight au ➼ chapter 13

warnings ➼ none

synopsis ➼ julius and lisa meet augustus, then try to have a fun night at the ball

ao3 link ➼ here

masterlist ➼ here

Despite the fact that the whole point of this ball and all the preparations were leading up to meeting King Augustus, Lisa couldn’t help but feel her stomach drop at the news. Julius had not told her much about the second King, but if he was anything like Julius, he couldn’t be too bad, right?

Right?

“Don’t worry, just let me do the talking and we’ll be fine,” Julius assured her, picking up on her heightened anxiety. He gave her a comforting smile and squeezed her hand. “Then we can eat and dance, alright?”

Lisa nodded, returning his smile nervously. “...alright.” She squeezed back.

“Julius! There you are- oh, this must be Lady Payne!”

The two came to a stop in front of a long, elaborately decorated table at the front of the room. Sitting in a chair, with two maidens on either side of him and stuffing his face with food was a short man with a moustache and goatee. The heavy, embroidered cape around his shoulders and the diamond-studded crown on his head, much less tasteful than the similar garments Julius wore, signified that this was, indeed, the King. His beady eyes landed on Lisa, and Julius saw them widen in surprise, before narrowing.

Lisa gulped, plastering on a smile before letting go of Julius’s arm. Just like they practiced, she bowed her head and bent her knees in a perfect curtsy. “It’s nice to meet you, your Majesty. I’ve heard much about you.”

“Have you?” Augustus let out a chuckle, rising to his feet with some difficulty. “Well, I’ve heard plenty about you as well, and not just from Julius. Apparently his family has known yours for generations, it’s about time you join your houses.”

Julius exchanged a glance with Lisa, giving her a nod. The plan is working, my cousins managed to convince him that House Payne is, indeed, a noble house!

“Yes, of course!” Lisa smiled brightly. “I don’t get into the center of the kingdom often, but Julius was kind enough to visit us.”

“Ah, so that’s where he’s always disappearing off to. I can’t say I blame him.”

Julius gulped nervously as Augustus reached Lisa and, without warning, grabbed her hand. Lisa stiffened up, managing to keep smiling as Augustus leaned down, not breaking eye contact.

“You are a lovely woman, Lady Payne. Julius really is a lucky man.”

The king closed his eyes, his lips pressing against the back of Lisa’s hand. Then, he let go and straightened up before looking at Julius. “Well, go have fun, you two.”

“Yes, thank you, your Majest-”

Lisa didn’t get to finish her reply, as Julius grabbed her hand, nodding goodbye to Augustus before dragging her away out of his sight.

“He wasn’t so bad-” Lisa whispered, grabbing Julius’s arm again as they walked towards the buffet. “Pretty nice, actually.”

“I don’t know about that.” Julius frowned, obviously a bit ticked off. “He was eyeing you like a piece of meat the entire time… and that kiss-” he shook his head. “It didn’t sit well with me.”

Lisa blinked slowly, feeling a pit open up in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Julius this angry since they met. “Oh… I-I’m sorry…”

Julius looked down at her, his eyes widening as the rest of his face softened. “Oh! Oh, no, it’s not your fault. Darling, you did everything right.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead, dispelling whatever worries she had. “We convinced him beautifully. You just look so good, anyone would want to gobble you up.” His eyes twinkled as he pulled back. “Including me~”

“O-Oh-” Lisa blushed, swatting his arm lightly. “Don’t flirt with me right now, I might faint.”

“Let’s go eat, then.”

The two of them made quick work of their dinner. Lisa was starving, and the food was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. All stops were out, no expense spared. Julius had to take her fork away before she started choking on a large mouthful, but couldn’t help laughing to himself at how ravenous she was. She doesn’t care about being ladylike when it comes to food, I guess! He thought to himself, sitting back in his chair as Lisa continued to eat. His hand laid casually upon her shoulder, his thumb etching lazy circles into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a group of people whispering at them. Julius glanced over, catching their eyes. He gave a happy smile, to which they bowed and scurried off somewhere else. Everyone is gossiping, but no one seems upset…

He turned back to look at Lisa, who was wiping her mouth off daintily with her napkin. His smile grew, and he felt his face heat up pleasantly.

Even if it’s just for one night, I’m so glad we don’t have to hide in the shadows.

One day… I want the whole world to know about us.

Lisa once again surprised him once they took the dance floor for the first time. She seemed very composed yet focused on her movements, and the two waltzed within the crowd in perfect harmony. “I didn’t know you knew how to dance,” Julius observed quietly, holding her hand and waist like a proper gentleman.

“My dad taught me, when I was little,” she replied, her eyes glancing around the room nervously every so often. “And my mother paid for lessons when I was older. She thought it would make me seem more desirable.”

“Well, she was right.” Julius shot her a little wink, earning a light blush in return. That’s the first time she’s ever mentioned her parents, he thought to himself. She has a whole family… a family that I’ll have to meet, sooner or later. Julius suddenly became aware of how hot this room was becoming, with the crowds of people inside and no open windows. “Hey, want to see something cool?”

“Yeah, of course!” Lisa cocked an eyebrow curiously as they ceased the dance, Julius dragging her away by her hand. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” Julius replied, grinning to himself. The two left the room, and he pulled her up a spiral staircase that seemed to have no end. “It’s always so quiet up here, you’d think it was abandoned. But I go here often… to clear my head, and whatnot.”

Lisa didn’t say anything this time, just nodded and continued to follow.

Just as it seemed like they would be climbing forever, the stairs finally leveled out, and the two emerged into a tiny room. However, this particular room was open to the air, a soft night breeze blowing through. Lisa’s eyes widened when she realized just how far they had climbed. “This… this is a tower!”

“Not just any tower; the tallest tower in this castle!” Julius said excitedly, glad to be in one of his favorite places once again. He let go of Lisa’s hand, quickly striding to the wall and looking out over the world. “You can practically see the whole kingdom from here! Look-” He turned to see Lisa still standing at the entrance, frozen. “Lisa?”

She blinked, before swallowing thickly. “Sorry… I-I- just- don’t like being up this high.”

“Oh… oh!” Julius quickly stepped back towards her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you-”

“No! It’s fine!” Lisa suddenly grabbed his hand again, turning back towards the edge. Her hand was shaking a bit, but the look in her eyes was already set. “I’ll be fine if you hold my hand.”

“...gladly.” Julius smiled to himself, gently guiding her to the wall once again. Lisa sucked in a breath as she looked over the edge, turning and grabbing onto Julius. His heart jolted pleasantly in his chest; feeling her body pressed up against his now was just as enthralling as it was the first time. He watched silently as Lisa’s eyes darted over the landscape, and slowly but surely, she relaxed. “What do you think?”

“...it’s amazing.” Lisa’s expression softened, a smile grazing her lips. “I see why this is your favorite place. Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome. I want to share everything with you, you know.” Lisa looked up at his words, and he smiled back down at her. One of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “You’re just as special to me as this place is. And-” his eyes twinkled a bit. “-I hope you can feel comfortable sharing things with me, too! You’ve seen a glimpse of my world tonight, but I would love to see more of yours as well! I’ll need to meet your father soon, anyway, to get his approval for seeing you~”

At the mention of her father, Lisa’s expression changed, just a little, but Julius still caught it. His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry… did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head, turning away from him for the first time. “No, nothing wrong… I…” she sucked in a breath. “You had no way of knowing, but my father… he’s been dead for a while.”

Julius wasn’t sure what to say at first. Lisa stared out at the landscape, but her eyes were looking at something far, far away. “...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! I- I was pretty young. I hardly remember it, really, even though-”

Her hand started to shake again. Lisa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“I was there… apparently.” Her eyes opened again, the emotion within them dulled. “Only 7 years old at the time. Bandits raided our town in the night, and they kidnapped me. My father caught up to them before it was too late, and they fought. I have no memory of it but-” Her voice wavered. “When the search party found us, my father was dead, and I was alive, unharmed. He died protecting me… because of me, he died.”

She fell silent for a moment after that, and Julius could tell that those words were weighing down on her more than she let on. Gently, he squeezed her shoulder. “...I can’t imagine how that must have felt. I’m so sorry.”

Lisa just nodded a little, before inhaling sharply. She turned back to him, and to Julius’s surprise, smiled brightly.

“I told you, don’t be sorry! Because of that, I promised myself that no one would ever get hurt protecting me again! I became a knight so I could protect myself!” Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “And I was the one who protected you this time! At least partially… so I think I’m succeeding!”

Julius couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at her enthusiasm. “I agree… you know, Lisa…”

Lisa opened her eyes again, in time for both of Julius’s hands to come up and cup her face. Her eyes widened at the tender gesture, and her body froze up for a moment.

...she looks so beautiful in the moonlight.

“You really are amazing.”

Lisa blushed, trying to look away out of embarrassment. “Come on, Julius, how many times are you going to say that?”

“As many times as I want! It’s true.” Julius made her look at him again, thumbs sweeping across her jaw for a moment. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met… and more than that… I…” the words caught in his throat for a moment, unexpected emotion bubbling up in his chest. Silently, Julius leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes fluttered closed.

“The only place I feel at home… the only place where I feel like I belong is with you.”

Lisa stared at his closed eyes silently. Julius’s voice was lower now, almost a whisper. She could feel his breath against her lips with every word.

“My whole life, I’ve been searching for my purpose, and failed to find it. Until I met you… You fill me with such shock and amazement every day. You’re smart, resourceful… but more than that- we were meant to meet each other. Maybe because of fate, maybe because we were lovers in a past life… whatever it is, you give me life. Life isn’t about success and battles and power. It’s about finding you. Finding you and loving you with everything I have.”

His words hung silently in the night air. Even though they were surrounded by a huge city, no noise could climb this high.

After a few moments of no response, Julius opened his eyes, his heart pounding. Did I say too much? Oh god, I hope I don’t scare her off-”

Tears were running down both of Lisa’s cheeks as she stared up at him. Julius’s heart clenched, but a moment later, her mouth opened, a smile forming on her lips.

“Julius… you love me?”

She said it as if it were an unbelievable statement, her voice soft and unsure. Julius nodded quickly, feeling her arms wrap around his waist again. “I love you, Lisa, more than anything in this world.”

She sniffed once, exhaling with a soft laugh. The tension between them dissipated, replaced by a wondrous, cathartic feeling.

“I love you too, Julius. More than anything.”

Julius wrapped his arms around her as they kissed in the moonlight, his heart soaring high above the tower. Everything he had ever wanted was right here, in his arms.

“JULIUS! Where the HELL have you been?!”

Julius and Lisa were immediately met by a very angry Marx outside the ballroom when they descended the stairs. Julius blinked, glancing down at Lisa, whose face was still flushed from their make out session in the tower. He cleared his throat before looking back at Marx. “We- uh- I wanted to show her the tower! Did you miss me that much?”

“I absolutely did not miss you!” Marx barked. “You can’t just disappear like that! I thought you had been kidnapped again- and even so, it’s not good for you to wander around without guards! Who knows who’s following you!”

Julius groaned and rolled his eyes. “No one was following us!”

“And anyway, I’ll save him again if something does happen!” Lisa added proudly, coaxing a giggle from Julius.

“Whatever. Well, I’m glad you’re both back.” Marx rolled his eyes. “Come on, the party will be over soon.”

“Actually-” Lisa’s hand slipped out of Julius’s arm, causing both him and Marx to look back at her. “I’m feeling a bit tired, I might retire early.”

“Are you sure?” Julius’s brow furrowed with worry. “You’re feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, just tired!” She smiled brightly.

“In that case, I’ll send someone to escort you up and get you ready for bed,” Marx decided. “Julius, you go on ahead to finish up the party.”

“Alright.” Julius stepped towards Lisa one last time as Marx hurried away to find servants. “I hope you enjoyed tonight.”

“I did! How could I not?” Lisa grinned. “I got to be a princess for a day.”

“Well, you better get used to it~” Julius chuckled, leaning down and pressing a kiss into her lips. Lisa hummed happily against it before stepping back.

“Goodnight, Julius.”

“Goodnight. Oh-” Julius almost turned away before thinking of something. “My room is close to yours… Come visit me if you have a nightmare or something~” He winked.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Without another word, she turned to meet the two servants sent by Marx, and Julius walked back into the bright ballroom, which was somehow a little less bright without Lisa.

[kpopnlockit]

Tethered

This is a very sad and personal piece to me but I wanted to share because it has been some of my best writing lately. It may be triggering to some so those who do not do well mentions with angst, depression, co-dependent relationships or eating disorder may want to steer clear. - Admin O

Your heart hurt. In both the physical and figurative sense. Your eyes burned and you knew they were bloodshot from the crying you had been doing. You were emotionally exhausted to the point of numbness. You could feel the way your facial features sat neutral. Your mouth was dry from dehydration and your stomach ached from hunger. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat or drink. You hated everything at the moment, including yourself.

It was how you coped. Self-destruction. You knew it wasn’t your fault. But it felt like it was. So you punished yourself. You knew it was a remnant from the unloving upbringing you had. Internalizing the blame that had been shifted to you and letting it consume you whole until there was nothing left but a shell, or rather a puppet, that went along with the motions. You were never taught how to handle things like this. You were only taught that everyone else’s misery was your fault.

Age didn’t change anything. At times like these, you were still that teen that didn’t eat and sat alone in their room with a pen and paper and lived in made up fantasies where you weren’t even a character. It wasn’t for a lack of knowing better though. You knew you were doing it and you knew that you were blameless, but that didn’t change the pain. So you did what you always did to alleviate it.

Even as anxiety sat heavy on your chest like a boulder crushing your rib cage, you let your glazed over eyes not focus on any one thing and retreated into your mind. The safest and most dangerous place on Earth. It was such a shame to waste such a beautiful day wallowing in feelings that you tried to ignore and lock away. They always slammed into you like an eighteen wheeler on the highway when you could have been making better use of your time. You could have been out on a shopping trip with a friend or taking a walk alone through the neighborhood basking in the summer breeze on your skin. Instead you sat wretched, under a blanket on the couch in your apartment.

You wanted to laugh at yourself, at your foolishness. How could you stay the same while everyone grew, changed, was happy? You felt a headache building in your forehead as you thought about how you always let it get to this point. You took everyone’s shit until you imploded, hurting yourself and never those that deserved it. That was the type of person you were. Rather, that was the type of person you were molded to be. A scapegoat. A pathetic thing that was always smiling until one day it became too much and all you could do was sit in one place and sob into a towel. Because if anyone heard you, it would be an inconvenience to them. It would be a nuisance to let them feel the guilt for what they had done to you.

It was always engrossing when you let yourself feel. It ate up your time and energy. It ate you up. That’s why you hated it. But you couldn’t avoid it. You would let it pile up, adding more and more to the finite box you kept your emotions in until they burst forth, spilling all over to the point where you couldn’t shove them back in. You had to let them sit with you, you had to feel them, when it got that bad. And without fail, it was too much.

Feeling was never something you were good at. It didn’t seem like anyone around you was good at it either. More often than not, for them it came out as anger, doors being slammed, cars being revved, shouting matches that the neighbors could hear. Encompassing bouts of rage put on display for others. Maybe that was the healthier way to sort it out. Explode like a firework and let others deal with the ashes. You wondered why you couldn’t be like that, why you suffered alone? You knew why though. You didn’t want others to deal with your problems like you had to deal with theirs. Actually, what you dealt with was them not dealing with their problems. That was what was the most painful. It had nothing to do with you.

As your emotions had nothing to do with others, you let them devour you in solitude. There would be no catharsis after though. This you knew. It would just be nothingness. An empty box that would get filled to the brim again and repeat the whole cycle. You would try to fill the void with junk food and burn away the anxiety with boiling tea. It would be a temporary fix, as always. Momentary, makeshift solace.

When would you deserve real happiness? When would you think you deserved it?

You wanted it to have been raining. Maybe it would have been more endurable if it was raining. Instead it felt like the sun was mocking you, reminding you that you could not enjoy the beauty of that day. That you wallowed and regretted and the world went on. You’d see pictures of people out at the restaurant you had put on makeup that morning to go to. They’d be eating funnel cakes at the fair you’d been talking about all week. Jealousy caused a dull ache in your belly.

Why couldn’t you get over it? Why were you stuck for hours, unable to fake a smile or savor anything? Everything was so easy when it fit in the box. Food didn’t taste like soot and you could actually cherish the memories you made.

You could hear him rattling around in the bedroom, trying to sleep but failing. Each creak of the bed, every movement of his limbs, irked you. His ridiculousness was the cause of all of this and he wasn’t even sorry. Chances were he wouldn’t even remember why you argued. He couldn’t even make sense when you were exchanging verbal blows. He was too delirious from his depression fog. He couldn’t be reasoned with. That left you, rational and frustrated, to deal with each feeling, each articulated assault that ricocheted off of him and back into your face. It was talking to a brick wall. You had known that when you fought back and that was what brought on the tears. Hot wet pellets of raw anger.

In moments of clarity, he promised dates and travel. Then within minutes he was unable to speak or function and your hopes were trampled. That’s likely what bruised the most. Him letting you anticipate only to be left there with shaky hands and a broken heart. You wanted to live. You wanted to experience everything he talked about. You wanted to be outside, in the good weather, doing something, anything. But he could never deliver. And you knew it wasn’t him. It was his depression. It weighed him down and shrouded him in an air of darkness. You could barely make out the man you fell in love with through it.

It was painful now though and you couldn’t see when it wouldn’t be any longer. Could you keep enduring? It felt like you had been enduring forever. Would he feel abandoned? But you too, were broken. You suffered alongside him. Could he see that? Did he know how you struggled to stuff everything into that box day in and day out? Did he know that you sat grieving the loss of him meters away from him?

Fresh tears fell. Your nose ran. Your stomach grumbled. You had started as half and were made whole by him, or so you thought. Now it felt like you were both a quarter, coming together to barely make a half. How had it come to this? When had it? Had he whittled you down or had he been three-quarters and was now not?

He hadn’t showered in over a week. When he asked if you wanted to go out to eat that day as you lay cuddled in his arms, you asked if he would wash his hair. He said yes. Then as you put on eyeliner an hour later, he said he was waiting to leave, you could drive. You asked if he was going to shower. He didn’t answer. He was ready to go to the restaurant. You could tell he was in a fog. You finished your face anyways, hope still present. Then he asked if he looked bad, feeling that was what you were insinuating. You said no. He asked why then did he need to bathe? Not thinking, you said you could see his dandruff and it would be nice to go to eat without that. Then it evolved into a fight, raised voices and you trying to talk sense into a senseless being.

When he flip-flopped, so did your heart. You felt like you were drowning with a weight tied to your ankle only pulling you down further. You didn’t have the strength to pull both of you up. You remembered the picture of your friend, with her husband and children eating at a diner that morning. Why could you not have a simple existence like that? You didn’t want too much, you thought. Just...to live. To not feel tethered. To be happy together, in each other’s presence. Like what had been.

You were living in the past. Perhaps the man from back then was still somewhere near but you couldn’t see him. Holding on blindly was stupid. There was no future guaranteed. It didn’t seem like rolling the dice on it was worth it either. Yet, here you were. Listening to him tossing and turning while you cried, wishing things were different, wishing he were different. You waited, and would most likely keep waiting.

[bennydwight]

Bondmates- A FordxOC Oneshot

I’ve never put a story directly onto tumblr before, but I don’t feel right putting this on my fanfiction page until Dakota’s story is fully published, so I suppose I’ll just throw it into the ether here.

Bondmark: A distinguishing mark, feature, or otherwise occurrence for an individual hinting to the identity of their perfect match

~~~

Dakota is nearly twelve when her bondmark manifests; earlier than most, but not unheard of.

She wakes up one morning to see a stripe of swirling colour on the inside of her left wrist, a vortex of tangerine and bright purple, shifting in and out of intensity as the day progresses. She's so excited, and jitteringly nervous too, for some reason, running down to show her parents right away. They say after school they can celebrate!

She's just gotten home from school when the galaxy on her wrist washes deep, deep crimson, and she's hit by a wave of rage so thick and relentless that she's broken three plates before it ebbs. Her parents send her to bed, the celebration cut short.

In the days that follow, her wrist fades to a numb grey, and Dakota sinks into a bone-deep depression.

Her parents take her to see a therapist.

~

Twenty-five year old Stanford has accepted by now that his bondmark won't manifest.

Logic and studies show that ninety-nine percent of people receive their bondmark before their twentieth birthday, and less than 0.01 of the remaining one percent go through life without their bondmark ever making an appearance. Ford makes peace with that, just another way he's a freak. An outsider.

During a class on calculus, a song gets stuck in Ford's head. It sticks around for hours and all attempts to drown it out are futile.

It takes a week for Ford to realize that the voice in his head isn't one he's ever heard before.

~

Dakota knows two things about her bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

The colours on her wrist are quickly identified to reflect the feelings of her bondmate, different colours representing different emotions. If he (she assumes it's a he) feels something strongly enough, Dakota will feel it too. She starts to differentiate which are her emotions are which are his by the taste: hers are tasteless, but his leave a sour taste in the back of her throat, like she'd just drank milk.

Her therapist offers a coping solution during her first sessions. Art or music, something to make her happy when his negativity threatens to overwhelm her. She chooses singing.

She's twenty when he starts to respond.

Two - He's slightly stunted, in her opinion.

His deep emotion affects her in a way, but he ever since those first few weeks, he hasn't felt anything deeply at all. But she develops a habit of keeping an eye on the colours shifting on her wrist and singing to match them. In his sadness, she sings brightly, and the cloudy blue on her skin lightens to a more cheery eggshell. When he's anxious, she learns slow, ancient songs in odd languages. In his anger, she sings soothing melodies from her childhood.

She hopes it's because they're a bondmatch, and her mood influences him as well.

~

Ford knows two things about his bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

He realizes within a week that she knows what he's thinking to some degree. Her songs change to equal or balance what thoughts weigh in his head. During his exams, she sings almost exclusively in Latin, which spurns a desire to learn the language so he knows what she's saying.

He sings back once, his name and age in a simple melody, to see if they are a bondmatch, but she doesn't respond. That's alright, he tells himself, bondmatches happen once in every five hundred thousand. He's just happy to have a bond at all.

Two - She's an alto.

If her screechy attempts at a high C are any indicator. Fiddleford gets very concerned one day after he right near jumps out of his skin at the murderous scream resounding through his skull.

His initial annoyance vanishes under the next line, as she sings about how awful that note was to the original tune of the song.

He smiles for real for the first time in what seems like forever.

Fiddleford gives him an odd look, but doesn't press further, and Ford is grateful for it.

~

Dakota's bondmate is more frustrated than normal today.

The mark on her wrist has been a steady, dulled burgundy all morning, and the back of her mouth stings under the sour taste of his emotion.

She tries singing something to cheer herself up, a German celebratory song with a catchy chorus.

The taste in her mouth intensifies, and her mark is shot through with an angrier, burnt rust as his frustration turns to outright irritation.

She stops singing. It's not making her feel better anyway.

~

Ford can't concentrate.

This quantum mechanics test has been the hardest he's ever encountered thus far, and he pulled an all-nighter to study. Sleepless, running on coffee, and nerves about the test are bad enough.

Halfway through question three, his bondmate starts singing something raucous.

On any other day, Ford might meet the cheerful tune with a smile, but he's trying to focus. The moment he's sure he'll have an outburst if she continues any longer, she stops.

The test is over in an hour, but she doesn't sing again for the rest of the day.

~

Dakota is finding more and more recently that her bondmate is keeping odd hours.

She wakes up at three AM to find her wrist vibrating in swirls of thrilled lemon and inspired peach. His anticipation is tangible. What's got him so excited so late?

She sings softly, trying to lift her own spirits, but she can't stop the unwelcome thought. What if someone else is making him so excited so late?

The notes are cheerful, but the words are melancholy.

~

Ford glances up from the chess board as lilting notes drift across his mindscape in an odd, echoing quality. His partner notices his grin, gaze shifting upwards to follow Ford's, though the song seems to emanate from the very essence of the vast expanse of Ford's mind. "What's that?"

"My bondmate." Ford is pleased she's up so late, his friend has never yet gotten the pleasure of hearing one of her songs. She's picked a good one, and it serves to lift Ford's already bright mood.

"Oh yeah, that old ritual." Bill moves his pawn. "Seems a little distracting, don't you think?"

Ford looks to the 'sky', his smile fading. Maybe it is...

~

Dakota hasn't slept well in months.

What started as a few odd days, wrist fading to colours she's never seen him experience, turns into weeks of deepening anxiety, marked by tangerine spots so intense they're almost white, and an ugly charcoal gray. She gets twitchy and restless, like there's something she should be doing. The taste of his emotion starts small, but eventually she can't stand most food for the sour taste in her mouth.

She knows these feelings aren't hers, but it doesn't make falling asleep any easier.

She sings herself French lullabies, but they don't help her much.

~

Ford has to find a way to stop him.

Ford doesn't have a way to stop him.

Ford can't fall asleep until he finds a way to stop him!

His bondmate has other ideas. Her soft voice cuts through the mess of paranoia and fear in his brain, stilling his thoughts. No! He can't stop! No matter how tired his eyes are, or how comforting her voice is...

Ford falls asleep to foreign lullabies -

"Well, what do you know! Your better half is good for something after all!"

- And wakes up to three fractured ribs and forearms scored with hundreds of leaking cuts.

~

Dakota is at a conference when she first feels it.

The first surge of terror is brushed off, she's used to it by now, though she does still worry about her bondmate. But the anger that follows, so blood red it practically glows, prompts her to leave the conference hall and seek a secluded corner where the chances of her breaking something reduced drastically. He hasn't been healthy for a long time, but this time it's different.

Something is wrong.

She stares at her wrist, in its pulsing reds, and downs the rest of her champagne to try to rid herself of his sour taste. It's all she can do to stand there and feel.

Something sparks on the stripe of colour, a tiny burst of the darkest gray she'd ever seen. Rapidly, the gray overcomes the blood, and Dakota is struck by a panic that reverberates to the very core of her being.

Something is wrong!

It's brief, but the sheer scope makes it seem like the shock is drawn out forever.

Then, nothing.

It's as if the air conditioner has been shut off, and you find yourself in a house that's deafeningly silent. A constant, gentle stream of emotion Dakota has felt since she was eleven ebbed in an instant. She feels some horrific being has reached down her throat and yanked out her very core, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.

Her boss finds her some time later, in the fetal position against the wall.

Somewhere, somehow, she registers the stripe on her wrist has gone completely black.

~

Ford doesn't have much time to think the moment he enters the nightmare realm. Survival takes precedence.

He's occupied for the next standard week trying to devise a way to defeat Bill.

It takes him a month before he has enough downtime to realize he hasn't heard singing once since he became trapped.

It takes him another three years to come to terms with the fact that he'll never hear her again.

He wants so badly to quietly break down somewhere. If Bill finds him, so be it. But he quashes the impulse. He has work to do.

~

Dakota doesn't sing for years after her bond dies.

She started singing to cope with his feelings, and now there's no reason to.

~

Ford turns and leaves without a word.

The hospitable Urarians are confused. Why would the best choir on the planet cause their guest to react this way?

~

Thirty years pass.

Dakota is humming tunelessly as she cooks bacon, but her breath stops as her chest explodes in anger.

The force causes her to stumble, grasping the counter for balance. Saliva gathers in her mouth to combat the sudden sour sensation. She can barely breathe for the rage, eyesight going blurry.

And then she can't breathe for the tears.

Because the stripe on her wrist is glaring blessed crimson.

~

Thirty years and a day pass.

Ford lays down on the couch, arm covering his eyes. He's back. He's back.

Somewhere, a song comes on, and Ford is just about to shout at Stanley to turn the radio down when his chest constricts.

The voice is in his head.

After thirty years of silence, he can no longer contain his sobs, but his grief pales in comparison to his pure relief.

She's back. She's back.

~

Dakota lowers her hand. "My wrist changes colours with what he's feeling."

They peer closely at the gentle pink etched onto her skin, just a shade grayer than her usual complexion. She smiles at their interest. Neither of the twins have their bondmark yet, and Mabel was practically bursting with excitement at meeting someone whose mark was physical. She'd asked to see it nearly as soon as Dakota sat down. Bondmarks are precious to some people, but Dakota has never been shy about sharing hers.

"How do you know what he's feeling?" Dipper asked, one hand on his chin. So much like his great uncle.

"Lots of practice," she answers. "This pink colour shows up when he's generally content. And see this?" She points to an olive streak slowly circling the perimeter of the mark. "He's a little under the weather right now, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of his mind and doesn't bother him much."

"And you can feel him, too?" Mabel asks, her grin like the sun.

Dakota laughs at her enthusiasm. "Only sometimes."

Dipper and Mabel perk up for a second, eyes darting deeper into the Mystery Shack, but Dakota is distracted. "Ah! See that?" The twins turn back just in time to see the blood orange starburst fade back into dusty pink. "He just got annoyed at something. But now he's okay again."

The twins make joined impressed sounds. Dipper looks at her with those huge doe-eyes of his. "It must have taken a long time to learn everything he's feeling."

"It did. But he's worth it."

~

Ford catches the sneeze in one fist, but it jerks the rest of his body enough to startle Mable. She turns from where she sits on the floor, knitting in her lap and back pressed against Ford's shins, and gives him a look. "Are you getting sick, Grunkle Ford?"

He sniffles. As much as he hates to admit it, but he can't lie to that face. "Maybe a little. But it's not too bad. I hardly notice it."

The frantic pen scratching on Ford's right stills. "Would you say you're a little under the weather, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of your mind?"

Dipper's words elicit a little gasp from Mabel, and he looks back and forth between the twins, blinking in confusion. Dipper stares back with a raised eyebrow, and if Mabel smiles any wider her head will split in half.

"Er, yes, that's a concise way of putting it. Why?"

Dipper goes back to scribbling in his journal, but a ghost of a smile haunts his face now. "No reason."

Ford looks to Mabel. She's turned back to the tv, but there's an excited pull to her shoulders. In a brief moment between commercials, when the screen goes dark, Ford catches her reflection and her grin has not faltered one bit.

~

Dakota can hardly breathe for the claws wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms against her chest. She tries to stay calm. Wild animals could sense panic, and she's no troll expert, but she didn't doubt the hulking beast could sense something from her. The stripe on her wrist swirls charcoal, a colour she's barely seen since the incident thirty years prior, and she wonders if her own fear is feeding back to her bondmate.

She whispers a silent apology to him, wherever he may be.

The troll opens its mouth to drop her inside, but Ford bursts from behind a stalagmite, blaster raised. "Let her go, you hairy heathen!"

She can feel the resonating determination pulse through her chest, and by chance she glances at her wrist again. The charcoal ripples outwards, arcing through with rings of rich wine. Ford fires once, twice, at the beast, and Dakota is so transfixed by the spreading wine colour that she doesn't feel herself falling until she's hit the ground.

The troll retreats, whining, and Ford makes sure it's gone before rushing to her side, hands hovering over her. Never actually touching her. "Are you alright? Is anything hurt?"

She can't answer. Can't do anything other than stare at her wrist. The stripe is shot through with mist and gold.

"Dakota, answer me!"

She says she's fine, smiling to reassure him, but she can't ignore the rapid beat of her heart. When he verifies her safety for himself, she asks. "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

Though initially taken aback, Ford recovers quickly with a soft smile. "Relieved."

The gentle lavender on her skin proves it.

~

Ford has a lot of catching up to do in terms of music, and Dakota seems to be the right person to help with that, but he finds himself bashful when she asks his favourite songs since so many of them are out of date.

They spend an afternoon not monster hunting, as usual, but sitting in his parlour with a laptop, taking turns showing each other songs. He feels a little better with his music choice after Dakota reveals her own odd tastes in foreign music.

He feels like he's heard some of them before.

~

Dakota stares at the gentle pattern of dusty pink and brighter rose on the inside of her wrist. She's found her bondmate, she thinks. But he hasn't given one clue as to whether she's his too. Or not. Or even if he has a bondmark. It's an unspoken rule that one doesn't ask about another's bondmark unless the information is supplied willingly, and Dakota hates the thought of relinquishing her budding relationship with Ford because she's impulsive. He might not even have a bondmark.

If he doesn't, that's fine.

She doesn't want to think about the other option.

~

Ford settles into bed with a happy sigh, ready for the evening end. It has been an increasingly delightful part of his day, as he finds his bondmate has been singing some of his favourites every night. He wonders if she has a connection to his music too, or if it's just a common interest. Either way, being lulled to sleep by those songs has become something to look forward to, and it's been a consistent concerto every night for nearly two weeks.

He shifts under the covers, closing his eyes.

But sleep doesn't come.

Because neither does her singing.

~

Dakota is hyperaware of Ford's presence next to hers as the Pines family (plus her, plus Mabel's friends, plus the handyman and the cashier) participates in their weekly movie night. She can't concentrate on the movie, too focused on her wrist and the uneven pulses of navy blue and slate.

She leans over and whispers, "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

He thinks about it for a moment before answering.

She wonders why he's lying.

~

Ford can't concentrate on the movie.

Another week without a peep from his bondmate has sent him into a deep-seated worry. Has something happened? Is she okay? Not knowing is driving him to madness.

When Dakota leans over and whispers the query, he doesn't question it. She's been asking it periodically for a few weeks now, and he's chalked it up to nothing more than a new habit. She's staring at him with an expression he can't place, rubbing one thumb up and down the stripe of colour on her wrist. It seems active, but Ford can't tell what colours burst forth from her skin in this light.

He's often wondered at her bondmate. He doesn't know what the colours represent, but he knows they're very important to her. He's caught her staring steadfastedly at her wrist for minutes at a time, but hasn't asked. She may just not have found hers yet. Or, a more unpleasant possibility, she might be harbouring a dead bond.

His time in the portal flows back to him. He wouldn't wish a dead bond on anyone.

But he can't assume, so best to keep away from touchy subjects. He gives her the best smile he can muster. "Happy and content."

Her face makes him regret lying.

~

Dakota can find only one explanation for this.

The unthinkable has happened, and her bondmark is unrequited.

It's rare, rarer even than bondmatches, but occasionally a person manifests a bondmark towards a person who does not reciprocate. It's awful, its psychologically damaging, but Dakota has lasted this long without her bondmate and she can continue doing so. She's lucky enough to know him well as a friend, and cares about him enough not to bring up the fact of her bondmark, and if he finds happiness in the end isn't that all a bondmate could ask for?

She convinces herself of this, convinces herself she feels better, but not even every song in the world could make her feel better. So she doesn't try.

~

Ford is so distracted by his mounting worry that he doesn't even realize it's raining until his glasses are coated in fat, wet drops.

Next to him, Dakota shrieks, though he thinks it may be in delight. He's glad. There was a period of time where they barely saw each other, and when they did, Dakota seemed more subdued than normal. But whatever is plaguing her seems to be wearing off, and he's immensely glad. He's missed his friend.

Just like he misses his bondmate.

She hasn't sung to him in over a week. There have been silences before, but never this... heavy.

He and Dakota rush into the Mystery Shack, sopping wet and laughing, though Ford worries his sounds slightly flat. If Dakota notices it, she doesn't mention it.

She tosses her camera bag on the table, then heads upstairs to shower off the downpour. Ford smiles until she vanishes, then lets it drop. He likes Dakota, but not even her company in monster hunting can replace the comfort he never realized he got from his bondmate's songs.  

Dakota starts singing from upstairs, and Ford frowns. Slaps the side of his head with one hand, metal plate giving a dull clang as he does. It sounds like he's hearing two slightly different variations on the same song. Is he picking up interference...?

His heart stops.

No.

But yes.

He's in the Mystery Shack gift shop before he can realize his legs are moving, out of earshot from the upstairs shower. He knows the song that's being sung, knows where in the verse Dakota should be, matching up perfectly to the version he hears in his head.

It matches.

His legs are moving again, thudding rapidly up the stairs to pound on the bathroom door. He feels like he's going to laugh, or cry, or throw up.

Dakota opens the door in her shorts and tank top, still drenched in rainwater, the steam from the shower rising up and framing her like an angel walking out of heaven's clouds. Her left arm rests on the door, giving Ford a perfect view of the churning colours on her skin.

It looks exactly how Ford feels.

 END

[justjeonday]

Solace | kim namjoon

Solace; comfort or consolation in a time of great distress or sadness.

- pairing: kim namjoon x reader

- genre: angst, fluff

- word count: 4,400

- warnings: reader fears what the future holds, very brief mentions of anxiety, includes descriptions of feelings/behaviour that might be associated with mild depression (the reader is only stuck in a rut in this fic and it’s nowhere near as critical as depression, but I still wanna be safe and warn about this in case it might be triggering for someone!)

- rating: PG

- notes: I’m excited to finally post on here again! I’ve had this idea for a while, but I haven’t had the time to work on it until now. I think I like how it turned out??  I’m not sure yet lol. I’ve been working on a few fics over the past few weeks, but I keep getting stuck and this is the only thing I’ve managed to finish since I last posted. Since I have a little more free time, due to the quarantine, I’ll hopefully be able to post some more soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this - thank you for all your support! <33 (this is still not completely edited btw so I apologize for any mistakes you might find)

- inspired by: this vlive.

- song: Solace by mell-ø & Ambulo

You stare blankly at the screen in front of you, eyes heavy and mind dull as the seconds count down for the next episode to start playing. This is all you’ve done since waking up, binge-watching some random kdrama you found online. It’s not great, and you’re not focused - but you figure it’s enough to keep you occupied for at least a few more hours. Enough to push most of your gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

You feel exhausted, the past four days mostly consisting of work and very few hours of sleep - plus added pressure and stress of having to keep up with studying during it all. Your arms ache from serving and cleaning up tables until late after midnight. After finishing up and closing the place, you’d go straight home to sleep - not having the energy to care for yourself. Then you’d wake up at noon, and have some breakfast before yet again making your way to work. Many people this time of year, during spring break, take vacations with their families so your boss needed you to put in more effort than usual to keep it all running smoothly. You’re grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money, but at this point it feels like you’re doing too much and your body isn’t willing to keep up anymore.

You feel overwhelmed - lost. Are your efforts even worth it when they’re not going towards something you want in the future? Thoughts like these have been weighing you down ever since you woke up, and you had decided it’d be best for you to call in sick and just be sad today. You had moved from the bed to your sofa, and here you’ve been laying ever since then. All the blinds in your apartment are down, no hint of sunlight peeking through - no trace of hope seeping in, no light capable of bringing color to your sombre day. 

You sigh as another episode starts playing, mind brought to the small recap that’s starts playing across the display. You try your best to pay attention to it in hopes of you actually starting to like it so that watching it won’t be so boring. You pull your covers up to your chin, basking in the scent of your boyfriend’s cologne stuck to his shirt you’re snuggled up in. It brings you comfort, soothes you and calms you - it makes you feel secure where you are.

You breathe it in, the longing feeling to hold your boyfriend intensifying as you do.

A sudden chime makes you jump slightly, eyes landing on the door as you sit up  - heart beating quickly in response to the unforeseen ringing disturbing the calm atmosphere in your apartment. You dread leaving the comfort you’re sofa is bringing you, but you feel impolite leaving whoever it is waiting. So you get up and mope over to the door, your body feeling heavier than usual, as if a force is pulling you to the ground.

With lethargy still clinging to you, you don’t bother looking through the peephole before unlocking and pulling the door open - wanting to get it over with and get back to hiding under your covers. Your eyes squint slightly at the sudden light leaking in from the hallway, but you instantly recognize the tall figure stood in front of you.

“Joon?” You gasp quietly, heart skipping a beat in surprise. 

His lips stretch into a smile, arms reaching out and inviting you into his embrace. Immediately you walk towards him, wrapping your own arms around his neck as his end up around your waist to pull you against him. You smile, face laying in the crook of his neck.

“Hi, baby,” He mumbles, a smile evident in his voice as he presses kisses against the exposed skin on your shoulder that’s peeking out through the collar of Namjoon’s oversized shirt you’re clad in.

“I missed you so much,” You say against his skin, voice strained from not uttering a word all day. You enjoy the presence of your boyfriend for a few more seconds before pulling away to look at him, “I thought you’d be gone until next week?” You utter, confused.

“Plans got cancelled,” He whispers, leaning forward to plant a kiss onto your nose - causing you to scrunch it as he does.

You smile in content as you look at him, eyes scanning over his face before unavoidably landing on the pink of his lips. You reach up and press your own lips against the corner of his mouth, before you change target and kiss him - your eyes fluttering close as you cherish the feeling of them against yours again. He kisses you back and you taste the rose lip balm coating his lips, the one he always has with him in his pocket. It makes you smile into the kiss and pull away, suddenly turning shy as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. You hide by his neck again, lips brushing over the mole just under his jaw.

You feel his chest vibrate against yours lightly as he chuckles at you, arms squeezing tighter around your waist. Your fingers start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it out for a few months now and the mullet is now very apparent - even more so than when he left. He dyed his hair a beautiful lilac shade not too long ago, and you love the way it looks on him. Nothing beats his natural dark brown hair, but somehow he manages to make every hair color look just as good and at this point you just can’t decide which one’s your favorite. He’s making it very difficult for you.

You walk backwards, making Namjoon follow you as you’re still secure in his arms. Once back in the darkness of your apartment you kick the door shut. You give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek before you pull away from him, letting him get comfortable and take off his shoes as you return to your sofa.

Namjoon, now that he’s able to focus on his surroundings, takes instant notice to the darkness that suffocates your apartment - and the messy sofa. If anyone knows you well, it’s him. After knowing each other for almost two years, he can read you like an open book without problem. One of the many things he’s come to learn is how much you hate wasting the light of day, and especially so during this time of year. You love spring, it’s your favorite time of the year and you always long for it whenever it isn’t current. He also knows that, if you’re not up and getting ready by 9 AM, you’ll most likely beat yourself up for it. However, on rare occasions, you’ll let yourself lay under the covers for another hour or so - but that's only if he’s there, laying next to you

Cuddling is something you simply can’t say no to.

Automatically, taking all these things into consideration, Namjoon starts to worry.

He kicks his sneakers off as his gaze follows you, watching as you fall down on the couch of which looks like it has been occupied all day. Your figure disappears under the cover, and he makes his way over to you. “Is everything alright?” He asks, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

You register his question but you don’t answer it, instead you reach your arms out and gesture for him to join you on the couch. His features soften and he manages to squeeze down next to you, despite the small space left to be occupied. Your leg comes out from under the covers to lay over his hip, holding him close to prevent him from falling to the floor.

You let your eyes shamelessly admire his face even though he’s aware, your fingers once again coming up to brush through his hair - strands of lavender running softly in between them as you do.

He lets his own gaze roam across your features, searching for any sign of anxiety or sorrow. “Hey,” he says, bringing your attention back to his previously asked question.

“Everything’s fine now that you’re here, don’t worry Joon,” you mumble, your focus still on his hair.

Namjoon doesn’t fall for your excuse. Grabbing your wrist softly, he removes your hand out of his hair and lays it over his chest, making you look at him. “Please talk to me.”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to sugarcoat what’s really going on. “Work’s just been really tough, it’s not that serious.”

You always feel bad complaining about work, or sharing the weight of your problems with Namjoon. You know how tough his job is compared to yours, and his schedule is never really empty. You know he loves what he does more than everything, but you’ve seen how hard it can get as well. So compared to your job, you realize the hours you put in are minimal next to the amount of time he dedicates to his job. Complaining just doesn’t feel right.

“You really underestimate me,” He sighs, eyebrows raised at you. “I can tell it’s not just work, it’s almost five in the afternoon and you’re still laying on the couch with my shirt on - you only do that when you’re feeling really low.”

You give up, accepting the fact he can see right through you no matter how hard you resist to let it show. “My head just feels kind of crowded,” you start. “I feel like there’s so many thoughts in my head, and I can’t organize or figure any of them out. I feel lost, I have no idea what the future holds and that’s fine - but I don’t even have a vision of what I want it to hold. I’m just not sure I’m walking down the right path.”

With Namjoon being back next to you, you certainly feel better - but still, it doesn’t remove any of your worries. You wait for a response, but a few seconds go by and there's still just silence. You look up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, his eyes showing empathy as he looks back at you.

Without a word, he slips out of your embrace before he gets up and walks over to your windows. Before you know it, he pulls one of your blinds up. The sun shines straight in your face, making you quickly seek cover under the pillow next to you. As you hide, you hear Namjoon proceed to pull every blind up, the room becoming even brighter as he does. After he’s done you hear his footsteps close in on you, and suddenly he rids you of your shield - leaving you exposed to the blinding rays of light that are now touching every possible surface in your living room. Your hands come up to cover your eyes, groaning. 

He gathers all your blankets and pillows you’ve taken from your bedroom before disappearing to put them back where they belong. Even with the low state you're in, you feel appreciation and adoration causing tickles in your belly. He always does this, always makes it his priority to bring you up when you're down. You find it endearing, how dedicated he gets - and lucky to say the least.

“What are you doing?” You ask out into the open, Namjoon still fixing your bed in the other room.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” says your boyfriend, walking into the room again.

You furrow your eyebrows, eyes finally adjusting to the light as you stretch - limbs splayed across the couch. “And where may that be, Mr. I’m On A Mission?” 

He snickers at the name, reaching his hand out for you to take. “You’ll find out once we get there.” He pulls you up from the sofa, making you stand before him. “Go put something warm on, the sun’s really nice but it’s still quite chilly,” he says.

Your heart flutters at his sweet gestures. Having been with Namjoon for such a long time, you’d expect the flutters to fade and his gestures losing impact along with them. But it’s all still there, just like when you first fell for him. Your heart still flutters at the dimples in which appear when he smiles, and at how his eyes turn into crescent moons as he laughs - how he shows affection but then becomes shy after. You’ve realized it’s those small things you usually wouldn’t think to pay attention to, but to you they all still cause butterflies to swarm in the pit of your stomach, and you swear you fall in love with him over and over again every time.

You still feel a force pulling you to the ground as you make your way to your closet, but not as intense as it was before Namjoon showed up at your doorstep. You’re still having to push thoughts back, still have to prevent them from getting the best of you. Knowing you have Namjoon with you, and knowing he’ll listen if you’ll talk about it, does bring you comfort. You’re well aware he isn’t capable of helping rid of these thoughts in your head, as he can’t assure you what the future holds or what path you should go down so it all works out - no one can. But still, you’re more than grateful because you’re certain he’ll be the one to at least make you feel better about things, and keep you from giving up.

You grab a lounge set from your drawer and slip onto it, the soft fabric fitting loosely over your body just like how you want it - only really seeking for comfort. Taking Namjoon’s words into consideration, you also make sure to grab a warm coat from your closet before heading back to the living room.

You find your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the couch with rays of light reaching him, a golden aura forming around his figure, making him look like a fallen angel from heaven. And thinking about it, you’re convinced he is one. Where would you be without him? 

You take a moment to enjoy the magical sight, your fingertips starting to tingle as you get an urge to skim them over his beautiful golden skin. Namjoon looks up, catching you as you eye him with a small smile on your lips.

He chuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, walking up to him.

He stands up, arms capturing you in a hug once again. Your cheek ends up pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater, the scent of his favorite cologne stuck to it, making you breathe it in and relax against him.  

“You look cozy,” he comments, pulling away to look you up and down.

You mumble a quiet thank you, your hands finding his and intertwining your fingers.

“Ready?” He asks.

Your nod doesn’t come off too assuring, making him laugh as the both of you slip your shoes on. Namjoon grabs his coat and with that you make your way out of your apartment, your hands interlocking again as you do. You exit your apartment complex and brisk air surrounds you, causing you to shudder and walk closer to Namjoon as you search for any source of warmth. The two of you stop at the side of the curb as your eyes search for your cab that has yet to arrive, the sun now hitting you and warming you up slightly.

As you wait you turn to eye your boyfriend, love swelling in your chest.

“You look really handsome today,” You say through a smile, eyes meeting his.

You hadn’t seen him in this particular outfit before, but he pulls it off really well. He’s clad in a denim on denim outfit, with a jean coat that reaches all the way to his calves. You’re not surprised it looks amazing on him, everything does.

“Thank you,” he says, cheeks rubescent as his eyes scan over his own body before looking at you and squeezing your hand in his.

You lean into him, nose scrunching at his adorable shy behaviour. Getting the sudden urge to peck him, you get up on your toes and press your lips to the dimple that dents his cheek. He pulls you into his side, hand laying on your hip. As you pull away your attention turns to the black car pulling up in front of you. Namjoon steps forward and opens the door and beckons for you to get in before him, being the gentleman that he is. You climb into the car, moving over so your boyfriend can get in next to you. He sits down and closes the door before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone, leaning over to show the driver where he wants to go. Gazing over, you try to catch a glimpse of anything that might reveal what location you’re going to but you manage to get nothing.

“No peeking, baby,” He teases as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

You pout, giving him pleading eyes.

He laughs, his hand coming to lay just above your knee before squeezing lightly. “Be patient.”

You let out a chuckle at your own childish behaviour, laying your hands on top of his before turning to look out at the surroundings as they flash by in a blur. As the driver takes you through Seoul, you find your mind wandering again as thoughts start filling your head. To distract yourself you turn to your boyfriend and ask him about his recent work trip.

Before you know it, the car comes to a stop and with cheeks still aching from a joke Namjoon whispered to you just seconds ago you watch him get out of the car. He holds the door open for you, a grin still on his face as you get out - the adorable indents in his cheeks once again appearing. You always get an urge to kiss them, but if you’d act on it every time that’s all you’d do.

Once you’re out of the car, you glance at the scenery of which you’re very familiar with, and which you’ve come to love and appreciate since being with Namjoon. One thing you learned very early on about him is how much he loves and treasures nature. You didn’t really see the point before, especially since you live in such a big city you don’t really think of it that much. On your own, before meeting him, you’d never think to go to a park just to relax. But now you’ve really learned to appreciate it and the healing powers it holds, something Namjoon also taught you.

“You took me to Hangang Park?” You say, a tinge of excitement in your voice as your eyes take in the beautiful view of the setting sun reflecting in the river.

Namjoon looks at you lovingly as you view the location. Hangang park isn’t away from any civilization, there’s still skyscrapers in view and it’s crowded. It’s not what you consider a traditional park, there’s not grass everywhere you look or trees surrounding you. There are platforms in stone and bigger patches of grass scattered around evenly. Even though it might not be the most green park, something about it brings you more comfort than others do. You think it might be the combination of city and nature, since you’ve lived in Seoul your whole life you’re used to tall buildings and city lights - all that comes with it. And with what Namjoon has taught you about nature, and how you’ve become someone who appreciates that setting as well, you really feel at home when you’re at Hangang Park. 

You said this to your boyfriend when you came here with him for the first time, and that’s probably his reason for choosing this specific location. It makes you feel warm inside, happy he takes all these things and uses them to make you feel relaxed and calm when you need it.

Namjoon comes up behind you and lays a hand over the small of your back, the two of you starting to walk slowly closer to the river. The sunset induces beautiful hues of orange and pink to paint over the blue sky, making the world around you breathtakingly beautiful. You feel some of the weight slowly ease off of your shoulders, and you feel as if you’re finally able to inhale and exhale deeply with ease. The both of you walk over to one of the grass-patches by the river, sitting down on it with shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

You sit like that in silence for a few minutes, and you sense Namjoon knows you need to just be for a while. You enjoy the feeling of him next to you, his presence as the both of you watch the sky and its reflection in the body of water before you. Surrounding you, there are groups of friends, couples, families, also enjoying the wonderful time of day. The atmosphere around you is happy and tranquil, in contrast to your dark apartment you’d locked yourself in earlier.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, laying your head on Namjoon’s shoulder as you watch the hues of the horizon fade into the light blue above you.

A few more minutes of comfortable silence pass by, before he brings his attention to you.

He brings your interlocked hands up to plant a kiss on your knuckles. “Let it out.”

You look up at him, your response lazy, “Hmm?”

“Whatever you’re holding in, whatever’s bothering you. It won’t do any good for you to keep it in.”

You exhale, resting your head against his shoulder again as your eyes return to the skyline. “I’m feeling overwhelmed, and every thought that has entered my mind I’ve been overthinking for no reason. I feel like I’ve gone down this path that I’m now stuck on and I can’t see any lanes or exits for me to lead me in another direction. There’s so many outcomes that could occur if, when the opportunity comes, I choose to walk another way - so many things that could go wrong.” You stop, fingers of your free hand coming to fiddle with the cool metal of his rings as you think of what to say next. “I feel like I’m putting in a lot of effort to do good at work and with studying, but it doesn’t feel worth it when I’m not sure the hard work I’m putting in is doing anything for my future.” You look down at your hands as you feel the familiar lump of anxiety form in the back of your throat.

“It’s normal to have thoughts, and to overthink them. I’ve been where you are right now, and I get you. It’s normal to worry about the future, everyone does - because it’s full of uncertainty and you can never really know what to expect or what it’ll turn into as time passes.” He pauses, and his words bring you comfort - knowing you’re not completely alone in feeling like this. “Someone told me once to think of my mind as a tree, and of my thoughts as branches. For these branches to grow, you’ll have to experience a lot of different things - hurtful things, things that’ll anger and confuse you along with happy and hopeful things. Your mind consists of so many of these branches, there’s happiness, pain, hope, desperation, devastation - everything.” He speaks, hand coming up from time to time in front of him to gesticulate.

You listen carefully to his words as your eyes follow pastel clouds that float across the sky. You’ve always loved how self-aware Namjoon is, you’ve come to think of it as one of his most beautiful traits - one that you really adore. He’s always stayed true to himself, no matter what. He recognizes his mistakes and faults so that he can better them and become someone who’s greater than the person he was the day before. You wish you can be that one day, as good of a person as he is. He always tries to be the best version of himself.

“You’ll need to prune and cut them to take care of the tree, to care for your mind and for it to keep growing beautifully. The hurt will be unavoidable, but you’ll have to make these choices so you can continue to grow and blossom. These thoughts and feelings you’re currently feeling, try to think of them as branches of your young days, as branches of a young tree. When you’ve experienced all of the hurt, the grief, the happiness, the love - you’ll be a beautiful tree, the most beautiful tree.” He says. “I know you’ll be,” He turns to search for your gaze, wanting you to see and notice the sincerity of his words.

Your eyes meet his, inside of which sunsets of their own exist as the sky reflects in them. You feel the force that’s been pulling you down fade, and you feel yourself tearing up as you look at the man in front of you, whom you cherish most out of anything. You realize how blessed you are to have met someone like him, someone with a precious soul like his own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling yourself starting to tear up.

Slightly embarrassed, you look away but you feel Namjoon’s finger nudge lightly at the underside of your chin - making your eyes meet his again. “No need to thank me baby,” He says softly, wiping your a few tears that escaped with the pads of his thumbs “I just want you to be okay, that’s all that matters.”

The love you feel for him spreads like a wildfire through your body. “I love you so much,” you say, eyes still looking into his.

A smile grows on his lips as he looks at you. “Come here,” he mumbles, hand reaching to the backside of your thigh.

He pulls your leg over both of his, so that you end up straddling his thighs before his arms snake around your waist to pull you into him. You embrace him by putting your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his. With your body now filled with relief and comfort, you find yourself wishing you could stay like this forever - keep him this close forever.

“I love you too,” He whispers in your ear.

The future remains a mystery, something you’ll never be sure of.

But in this moment, what you’re completely certain of, is your everlasting love for the man in your arms.

He’s your everything.

He’s your start and your end.

He’s your Solace.

[chocoships]

Nightmarish dream

Chase is aware that he’s dreaming. 

He remembers going to bed, spending a few hours aimlessly scrolling through various apps on his phone while his tired eyes took almost none of the endless stream of information offered to him. There wasn’t any anxiety or fear as his eyes finally slipped shut and he let himself be taken away into the comfortable embrace of sleep, but as his eyes suddenly shoot back open with an acute lucidity, a deep feeling of unease already seize him. 

Chase’s gaze nervously darts from side to side as he tries to take in his surrounding. This isn’t what he’s used to. Instead of a dark expanse of nothing, Chase finds himself to be in some sort of... coffee shop? At least it’s the best guess he can make as to what the warped space around him is supposed to be. There is an air of familiarity to the chairs and tables neatly put away, to the unintelligible signs hanging above the empty service counter, but everything looks just a degree too off for him to fully recognize the place he’s supposed to be in. Just standing there feels wrong, it’s lifeless. He doesn’t know why he’s here, how he even got to this place, but as memories slowly slips back into places, fill in the blanks in his mind, he remembers now… And he knows what is about to happen next. 

He remembers the series of strange encounters he started having in his dreams, of the entity that infest his mind every nights, of Its… strange obsession with him. He has no idea what he could have ever possibly done to attract Its attention but it’s too late for him to wonder about the cause of it all. Chase silently curse himself for falling asleep so nonchalantly, but how could he have known? With each morning, or abrupt awakening, Chase forgets. He always does. The memory of his dreaming self simply slips away, and the gaps it leave behind trap him further into this vicious cycle. Dooming him to unknowingly commit the same error every night and finding himself yet again at the mercy of whatever being haunts his nightmares.

He recall  breaking down at the very beginning of it all, desperately asking It why he could never remember in his waking hours. The entity, which eventually named Itself Anti, simply answered him with; It is in the nature of dreams to be forgotten.The answer had been strange enough by itself, but Its following promise to change that unfortunate truth left Chase slightly more disturbed for the rest of the night. He didn’t want to learn what that promise could mean anytime soon.

 The current scene Chase finds himself in is a little odd though. As far as he can remember, his “meetings” with Anti have always happened in a mostly empty void. He doesn’t know whether to feel relief or dread at the change.

Eventually his attention is brought to the thing in front of him, to Anti patiently sitting on the other side of the small table Chase is currently seated at. He didn’t even notice he was sitting down until this moment... As if on reflex, Chase immediately avert his gaze from It. His head faces downward as he keep his eyes fixed on the table instead of looking directly at Anti.

He can’t bear to look at it.

It’s not inherently monstrous, in fact It probably could pass for a normal person at first glance, but simply looking at It for longer than a fleeting second is enough to shatter any illusion of normalcy It tries to put up. The more you look, the harder it is to see past all the details that aren’t quite right. Eventually, you’ll end up wondering how you could ever have mistaken this Thing for another human being. The wrongness Its presence alone exude is simply too strong to ignore.

And the worse thing of all is that It’s wearing his face.

It look like someone took Chase’s skin and then draped it over a barely human shape. It doesn’t fit, nothing could ever be done to make it look natural or seamless. The way It moves or simply is cannot be hidden under the mere layer of stolen flesh It wears.

The air feels tense, thick with dread. Each inhale and exhale takes more effort than the last, it  almost feels as if it started solidifying in his lungs. Like it shifted from gas to liquid without him noticing, and as far as Chase is aware maybe it did. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch considering his situation. Dreams are weird like that after all, right? But the pressure weighing down on him from every direction feels so real and he’s trying with everything he has to not outwardly show any of his growing discomfort. But with Anti’s gaze directly fixed on him, never once leaving his hunched over frame, finding the strength to not squirm under Its intense scrutiny is a much harder task. It feels like something is crawling under his skin wherever Its eyes land upon him, like It’s trying to find its way into the deepest part of him.  

Chase is eventually brought out of his spiraling thoughts as the wood grain of the table he’s staring at starts moving, dancing, crawling, in front of his eyes. The sharp yelp that escape his throat at the sight cannot be held back. 

Right. This is a dream. One that Chase isn’t in control of.

 A dull ache starts forming at the front of his skull as he keep his gaze fixed on the ever shifting shape trapped in the glossy surface of the wood. No words are spoken, but a clear choice seem to be offered to Chase: either look up and face the captor of his dreams or keep his head down and let the pain grow. The ache slowly climb in intensity as Chase weight both of his options. A decision is eventually made, and it’s with a whimper stuck in the back of his throat that Chase straighten up and slowly lift up his head.

He’s shaking as he finally meet eyes with Anti. As the man return Its gaze, the thing’s stolen visage shift from an expressionless mask to a twitchy facsimile of a smile. There are far too many teeth crammed into Its mouth, far more than what should be physically possible. The sight alone send a cold shiver down Chase’s back.

“do you like it?” Anti’s voice reverberate through the space, and yet Its lips do not once move. There is an eagerness to the question, perhaps even hope, but for what? Chase doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to hearing the being’s voice. Like Its appearance, it seems similar enough to his own at first but an undeniable layer of wrongness hides right beneath. As if Its voice itself was afflicted with rot and decay, inevitably tainting it whole with a deep feeling of unease. If Chase’s voice was a melody, then Anti’s would be a cacophony of dissonance.

“What?” Chase’s voice is barely above a whisper, meek and confused. He watches as It vaguely gestures around Itself and him, Its movements jerky and stiff.  

“Our surroundings… From what I’ve seen, most humans seems to considers those places to be good spots for dates. I won’t pretend like I fully understand why. The supposed romantic charm of it is lost to me, but I thought you’d appreciate it” Anti’s head cock to the side, Its dark blank eyes never once blinking or leaving Chase as It spoke. 

“So, as I said before; do you like it?”

Chase stays motionless as Anti speaks, completely stunned. Well, until his chest shakes with a faint laugh, it’s more nervous than anything but Chase is at a point where he’ll latch onto any emotions that isn’t fear like a lifeline. 

“I mean… It’s better than the previous empty void for sure. It’s, uhm- it’s alright. This is kinda impressing, if I’m being honest...”

At the half hearted praise, Anti seems to glow with pride. Its whole demeanor perks up, but Its excitement seem to also cause Its disguise to slip ever so slightly. In a matter of seconds, multiple eyes blink open across Its body, breaking skin as they do so. Its smile stretches further and further until the flesh of Its cheeks rip apart, showing even more crooked teeth than before. Anti leans forward, placing his elbows on the small table as he rest his chin in the palm of his hands, more limbs soon following suit.

Chase watches, frozen with terror, the horrible display of body horror happening in front of him. He cannot look away from it no matter how much he tries to will his eyes to move or even simply blink. Panic surges through his body as he soon discovers he can’t move at all. He desperately tries to get up from his seat, to stand up and run, but his body feels like each joints has been locked into places. The only thing he can do is trembles as the phantom sensation of countless of hands starts grasping at him, at least he hope it is. Chase cannot look down to see if what he’s feeling is real or not.

The only thing he can see is the terrifying beast sitting across him, admiring him with either yearning or hunger in Its eyes.

“I’m glad my efforts paid in the end, maybe next time I should try to recreate your home” It sigh, yet Its chest never moves to even attempt to give the illusion of breathing. Its voice sounds dreamy as It continues on.

“For now though, let’s just enjoy our time together. I still have a lot to show you tonight” 

Chase whimper when a cold elongated hand take hold of his. It’ll be long before this nightmare end.

[beesonestopcurioshop]

By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes.

Chapter 1: The Devil has a hold on me.

Photo credit: Google search.

Warnings: None I think? Maybe standard Peaky Blinders violence toward the beginning.

Note: So here it is! A little late, okay a lot late, but my nerves and an eight hour shift got the best of me. I want it to be great for you all! I hope you all like the beginning of this tale.

••

Thomas Shelby found himself stepping out of the Garrison. It was a quiet night in comparison to how the pub usually could be. They just had a small memorial for Danny Whizzbang. After putting on a show for the Italians, they had to keep face. It was chilly and rain had started to fall. He pulled his coat a little closer around the neck and began his trek back to Watery Lane.

He got little more than a few blocks away from the Garrison when he noticed a raven sitting on a lamp post. The same raven he had seen for about a week. He stopped to inspect it. It wasn’t an odd occurrence but this late at night it wasn’t common. The bird was looking at him almost like it was expecting him. He nearly felt the need to address it. Before he could, the bird flew off.

His trademark cigarette hit his lips and he continued to walk. Thomas almost made it to his destination when a mall flapping of wings grabbed his attention. Another raven was perched by the small home. The same raven. The white dot in its chest gave it away. His usual stone face furrowed a bit, and he looked around to gather his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except this bird. It cawed at him. It had to have been at him. He was the only other soul present on the street.

Thomas walked closer to it. Reaching his right hand out to welcome it. The animal looked at him carefully, sizing him up. To Thomas it felt like the bird was analyzing his soul. It just about stepped onto his hand when there was boisterous noise that brought him back to consciousness.

••

Thomas was still at the Garrison. He looked around to everyone. They all seemed warm and in various states of inebriation. It was as if no one noticed he had let his mind wander. He took out his pocket watch. He had an early day tomorrow. It was the day he would be gaining a horse for the races. It was the beginning of a new era for the Shelbys. One that would no doubt put his family on the map.

He gathered his things, mentioned goodbyes to family and friends alike, and made his way out to the street.

The air outside was cold. Cold enough to be brisk walking home and pull his coat tighter, but not cold enough to be catching his death. That was until the rain started. It was a light drizzle so he would be able to make it home before being drenched.

He got about three streets away from the pub and he stumbled upon a raven. On a lamppost. The same exact bird from his daydream at the Garrison and his week before this. His left eyebrow raised in suspicion. There was no way he had imagined this before at the pub, and the night before, and so on. He took in his environment and marched forward.

When he reached Watery Lane, there was the raven. It preened happily next to the abode he strived to make it to. He just wanted to smoke and get some rest. If it could be called that. The raven stopped to glance at him. Inviting him. Normally it would just be a bird and nothing more. However there was something very intriguing about it. It’s pull on him had him standing right in front of it before he realized he had even walked over to it.

Reaching out a hand to it, the animal inspected it wearily. It began to pleasantly hop on over to his hand. There was a loud bang of the door to his home, the children must have been at it again. The bird let out a startled caw in his direction and flew off.

That bird would haunt his dreams along with the shovels.

••

The next morning he decided he would discuss that occurence with his aunt. He needed some insight. Only the kind she could give.

“Pol? I need to speak with you for a moment.” Thomas held the door open to the meeting room in the back of the house for her and shut it as she entered. He went and sat at the table. His arms splayed wide, palms flat on the top, as he thought of how to go about asking. His brothers and himself had to get on the road so he had to be quick. He tried to find some natural balance. The lack of sleep and that damn bird had him feeling off, not that he would tell anyone.

Thomas Shelby was not an entirely superstitious man, but every now and again things could get under his skin and stick there. This avian follower was one that was just not willing to let go. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it seemed to be every single place he went. The same raven. White dot. Always lurking.

“What’s weighing on you? I can see it.”

“Ravens. What meaning do they bring?”

“Ravens?” Polly sat back in her chair with a noncommittal shrug. “Magic. Mystery. Wisdom. Caution.”

“Caution.” Thomas rumbled lowly.

“But also brotherhood. Messengers of the gods. Loyalty.” She sat back and assessed her nephew carefully. “What on earth has you thinking about ravens? Asking me for meanings?”

“One has been following me. While I’m sleeping and awake.”

“And how do you know it’s the same one and not just a regular bird? Murders of them flock to Small Heath, you know.”

“I know that Pol. It’s almost like a call to it. Like it wants me to find it.”

“That’s an omen, Thomas.” Polly sighed and left him to steep in his thoughts.

He leaned back against his chair and rubbed his hands through the hair at the peak of his head and let out a long, “Fuck,” of frustration at the lack of any more clarity than he started with.

••

Ellie plopped down on a small stool next to Johnny Dogs. It was time for a break. The horses had been groomed and there was a lull in pony rides to warm them up for the fair.

“‘Ey there Ellie! Resting your bones there for a minute from tha little tykes?” Johnny nudged her shoulder in a teasing manner.

“Those little hellions have given me a run for what little money I ’ave.” A peal of mirthful laughter tore through her rosy lips. She didn’t mind it at all. It brought them happiness and that’s what mattered. Her own on the other hand had suffered the past few days. Lack of sleep was beginning to get to her.

She worried her lip losing herself in thought. She had argued with herself on whether she should bring up the anxiety plaguing her recently to Johnny or not. It could help, or not solve anything at all. She hoped for the former.

“There’s been somethin’ eatin’ at me though, Johnny. Not to get all mystical but there’s trouble comin’, and it’s got my name on its breath.”

“Whattaya on about, bird?” He glanced up from his polishing a bridle in confusion.

“I keep ’aving this dream over and over again. For at least a week now.”

“The same one?” She nodded in confirmation. “What happens in this dream? Is there anything that stands out to you?”

Ellie however didn’t get an opportunity to explain because a black car came and parked not far from them. Out got two men looking far too fancy to be at the fair, a young boy of maybe ten or eleven. The third occupant opened the door and as soon as his feet hit the ground, it was almost as if she felt the vibrations of his first steps. The burden he carried. Goosebumps adorned her arms.

“And there comes the trouble.” She couldn’t decipher whether the chill was from the goosebumps or from the icy stoic stare that currently held her attention.

“And along came a man on a dark horse. A peaked cap, blades found along the seam. A black cloud trailing behind him.” She knew who they were. Talk ran fast around these hills. ”What can we do for you, Mr. Shelby?”

“We’re here to see Johnny Dogs.”

“Tommy, how the hell are ya?” Johnny asked as he started to close in on the leaders. Ellie looked between them. At the friendship that would have been clear to a blind man. “Ellie, be a dove and go fetch that horse for Mr. Shelby here.”

“Farthest thing from a dove, Johnny.” The chuckle that escaped her throat was low. Mostly for herself and the amusement of being called a dove.

One of the Lee boys had just finished grooming the horse in question. She traded off with the boy and nodded to him in thanks. She lead the horse to Johnny’s caravan to make a quick slip knot. She made a quiet nickering noise against the horse’s nose as she heard the men come up behind her. She felt her spine arch and moved to the front of the horse.

“So this is the horse?”

“And that’s the car.”

Tommy and Johnny seemed to have something up their sleeves. Both of them were intently checking out their prospective rides. Thomas greeted the horse with a gentle rub on its snout. It responded gently back, almost like they were talking.

“He’s strong you know. A little troubled sometimes, but a good heart.” Ellie mentioned. There was a small downward nod from the Stetson cap in front of her.

“And you are?” The low rumble almost echoed back at her.

“Elli.. Eleanor Byrne, Mr. Shelby. A friend of Johnny Dogs.”

His brother interjected about the horse for the car, and she thought she heard something about two up. She leaned against the caravan and crossed her arms with a playful smirk. This should be interesting. The coins clinked and hit the grass with a dull thud.

Ellie watched the few Lee men who were by the water settle up closer to them. Laughing. Immediately she was uneasy. Yes she respected the Lees but they loved trouble. You could practically smell it on them.

Thomas handed the keys over to Johnny and Ellie’s eyes widened.

“I knew it. I knew it. Tommy you bloody idiot.”

“Shut up, Arthur, I won. I promised Johnny a spin in the car if he lost.” Johnny took off toward the car. He stopped short when Thomas’ hackles raised at the Lee boys.

While Johnny tried to diffuse that situation, she slid the reigns into her hand and made her way to the front end of the caravan. No sense in having the horse get stuck in the middle. She heard Johnny mention that their grandfather was a king. That explained the natural way they held themselves. Hearing the slur about their mother come from one of the Lees, she told the horse to hold and walked back around the van. She made it with just enough time to see Thomas use his cap to slice the Lee boy in the eyes. Served him right. But she wouldn’t voice that opinion out loud.

Johnny tried to stop the ruckus but it was no use. It especially wasn’t after Thomas’ brothers joined in. Ellie wouldn’t have expected any less from what she had heard and seen around Small Heath. The horse came to stand at her shoulder while they stood there and watched the bloodshed. There really was no contest. The Shelbys were vicious.

Ellie reached behind her to pat the horse on the chest. She moved the reigns around his neck so he wouldn’t get caught up in them and gently muttered, “walk on.” They made the short trip to the truck the Shelbys had brought for him.

She unlocked the hatches and caught the door as it fell. She placed it on the ground softly as to not spook the horse. There had already been enough ruckus and his eyes looked a little too wide for her liking.

“Hey, come here boy. It’s okay.” One hand placed under the sturdy jaw and one grasped the muzzle of the grey beauty.

She began to speak softly. Murmuring encouragement and telling him about all the good things he was going to accomplish at the races for Mr. Shelby. She heard heavy breathing as the men made their way around to the back end of the truck to get the horse.

“I ’ope you don’t mind I got a head start on gettin’ him in there, Mr. Shelby.”

He locked eyes with her again, but didn’t say anything. Her right hand was still on the horse and she gripped his mane for comfort. There was definitely a weight that he carried. Not all of it was good. It jostled her around. She was sure that underneath the calm façade, he was really trying to gasp for air. He nodded at her.

She looked over to Johnny, “Johnny I’m gonna make my way to the fair with the other horses. You come round when you’re ready.” She looked at the Shelby men. “It was fancy meetin’ ya.”

••

“Miss Ellie please please??”

“Yeah Miss Ellie, give us one more go round!” The brother and sister duo she was walking around wiggled excitedly.

“Give us one more go round… what, Alexander?”

“You have to say please Alexander!” His sister Mabel chimed in.

“Please, Miss Ellie. From the both of us.” The boy had a sheepish blush across his cheeks in embarrassment for forgetting his manners.

Ellie laughed softly, “It’s alright, Alex. We’ll keep going. Then Miss Ellie has to take a quick break.” There was a chorus of disappointed awwwws from the two children.

She clicked her tongue to get Stevie to walk on. Looking up she saw a fox. This had been what she was going to tell Johnny about earlier. It had been in her dreams and while she was awake. She knew it was the same fox from the one cropped ear it had. It was everywhere. In her dream it would almost call out to her. Never speaking but a gentle tug.

Out further in the fields like this wasn’t out of the ordinary, but not every single time. Foxes usually tended to hustle away from folks.

Orange eyes seemed to entrance her. Stevie kept going but her steps faltered every other step. The fox’s gaze was definitely leveled on her. The level of intensity felt warm, inviting, but dangerously enticing. The fable of the fox and the crow came to mind.

Ellie shook her head and focused on finishing her job for the day. She clicked her tongue and Stevie sped up to a gentle trot. The children loved it and peals of laughter rang through the air.

••

“I’ll be back Stevie.” Ellie patted his chest before walking away. His turn down had been a struggle. He was grumpy from all the rides he participated in. ‘You’re really gonna love me on the way home then.’

A shot of Irish whiskey could be heard calling for her. She had earned it the past few days helping Johnny out. Her plan was to find that bottle she left here somewhere.

Her pack was around the front of the stable. A flash of burnt orange caught her eye. It was darting into the trees nearby. Her eyes rolled involuntarily. The trickster circling her was getting real old. The bottle toppled over and she snatched it up in an ‘aha’ manner. The first sip was greatly appreciated. It burnt and tingled in just the right ways.

The restlessness began to grind at her. Heading home was in her future. She had to find Johnny and let him know that she was on her way out, and thank him for letting her help. Stevie would be okay for a little bit while she went to find him. He would probably enjoy the silence.

••

“Bird! ‘Ello ‘ello! Thought ya left us!”

“‘Ello yourself Johnny. Glad I found ya.” Ellie smiled warmly in his happily inebriated direction and noticed the Shelby brothers with him. “Nice ya see ya again, gents.”

“I don’t think we caught your name earlier, love.” The youngest of the three mentioned.

“It’s Eleanor. You’re John, right?”

Thin light eyebrows raised into the cap that adorned his head, “Seems you’ve heard of us.”

“No one comes out of Small ‘eath and doesn’t know the Peaky Blinders.” A playful knowing smirk graced her lips as she took in the three men.

“What you doin’ all the way out here with the likes of Johnny Dogs then?” Arthur, the oldest, questioned.

“I was giving him a helping hand for the fair here so he wouldn’t get bogged down. Plus I needed time away from the city. Stretch me legs.”

“She’s an angel I tell ya.” She shoved Johnny’s shoulder playfully.

“Dats enough of dat. Farthest thing from it.” Raucous laughter followed from all but one.

Thomas stood quietly. Calculating. Trying to perceive her. His weighted stare caught her and a loud ringing in her ears accompanied the stare off. It was almost like the fox earlier. Shaking her head she continued.

“Now I ‘aven’t left yet, but I will be shortly. Givin’ Steve a rest before heading on. Just wanted ta find ya before I did.”

“Come ‘ere little bird,” Johnny wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “I’ll meet up wit ya soon.”

She giggled, “Yes, Johnny. If ya need anythin, just send word.”

Thomas’ stare squared on her again. The air became thick. If she had wings she would flutter away. Continuing to hold his stare she refused to back down.

“It was nice seein’ yas. Maybe we’ll run into one another.” She gazed at the others with a friendly smile. “But I should probably jog on if I wanna get to town before Christmas.”

She gave Johnny one last hug and waved to the leaders on the Blinders and made her way back to Stevie. It was beginning to rain. It was going to be a long ride home.

••

If you’ve gotten this far, I really hope I do this story justice as well as the characters already written and my Ellie girl. I can’t wait to hear what you all think! 🧡🐝

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 23 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 1300

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, I’m too tired to think of something clever to put here tonight (pt. 2)

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity,  @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany , @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings,           @lokis-butter-knife, @help-i-need-a-social-life, @vodka-and-some-sass

Loki has stood in Asgard’s grand throne room too many times to count. Some of his earliest memories are of his small self hiding behind his mother’s skirts as he and Thor look on at various proceedings: Odin meting out cruel justice, or citizens presenting complaints, or yearly celebrations they were always turned away from once the hour struck late. This room was an idol to him, once. His endgame. Young hopes and dreams are embedded into every tile that paves the floor. As years passed, the gold that once shined so brightly in his eyes began to dull; warm words crystallized to stone and ice. It became a cancer that consumed his mind and turned his hand to darker thoughts, darker desires- something to conquer and claim rather than bow to and serve. He always knew, truly, that this throne would be his undoing, one way or another, for better or for worse.

And if he is being honest with himself, he always knew it would be for the worst. That nothing would ever end well for Loki Laufeyson.

But even as he is marched to the dias in the center of the room, flanked by thousands of citizens come to see their fallen dark prince meet his fate, his head is held high. The chains wrapping his form do not seem to weigh him down, and his eyes are alert and clever as ever. His armor gleams, his demeanor is calm, and his feet step lightly towards his doom. Because in every other face in the crowd, he sees your own- watching him with soft eyes, giving him courage where his usual boldness has failed him. He walks as you would want him to, as he would want you to see him: proudly, and without shame.

A prince is still a prince, no matter where he comes from. He may not be the prince his father wanted, the prince his mother deserves, or a prince Asgard would accept. But if he is still a prince in your eyes, even after knowing how deep his scars truly cut- then royalty he must be.

And so as he faces his father on his throne, Frigga at his side, and Thor by the other, he does so, for the first time, as their equal.

A hush falls over the crowd as he stops in front of Odin, and his escorts step away. He does not kneel. He does not bow. He simply inclines his head, and in a rare moment of understatement, speaks: “I believe you wished to see me?”

Odin’s gaze is disapproving, of course, but Loki thinks he catches a glint of amusement amongst the sadness mingling in Frigga’s eyes. Thor seems torn- his face is as unreadable as thunderclouds. “My son. It is under grave circumstances that you return to Asgard.”

“Only as grave as you wish it, All-Father. In a word you could transform this funeral into a feast. I am sure your guests would much appreciate the turn in mood.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Warriors Three shift uncomfortably, and trade glances. They stand on Thor’s side, no doubt for his support, but Loki briefly wonders if they will mourn his sentencing. Perhaps not as he stands today, but for the mischievous, innocent boy they knew in their youth.

The rumble from Odin’s annoyance echoes throughout the hall. If the room was silent previously, you can now hear a pin drop. “Loki Odinson. Today you stand before the throne of Asgard for your trespasses against not only our home, but also Midgard, as well as myself and your own brother, Thor. To what do you say to these accusations?”

“I do not deny them. Indeed, I accept these charges as stated.”

The only indication of Odin’s surprise is a slight shift in his posture. “Will you not defend yourself?”

“I see no reason to, as the allegations are not false. I have wronged many and allowed destruction to befall many more. My guilt is clear, and my conscience heavy. As such, I will accept my penalty without complaint.”

“Hm.” His judge’s eyes are piercing, and cold. “It seems you have managed to maintain a mediocrum of dignity during your exploits.” For a moment, a familiar rage flares in Loki’s chest. He swallows it in a breath. “Very well. In consideration of your crimes, you shall be stripped of the immortality Idun has granted you, as well as the magic you so clearly covet. The rest of your days will be spent amongst your peers in the dungeons of Asgard. This is my decree, and this is my judgement.”

Immediately, those in attendance begin to murmur amongst themselves. To rescind one’s eternal youth is a grave penalty, and only used in the most serious of cases. The goddess Idun is the keeper of the apples which give the gift of youth and radiance, and she does not poison her prized fruit readily. Loki grimaces. He and the goddess haven’t been on the best of terms since he had a hand in her kidnapping by a giant, millennia ago. No doubt she will be only too happy to aid in his punishment.

When the double doors to the throne room open again, a breeze smelling of blossoming fruits and lavender floats in, easy and warm as the height of summer. Loki stands aside as a girl- twelve at most, with long hair braided into a crown and gauzy skirts that trail behind her- approaches the royal family and bows low in the old style. In her arms she carries a rough-woven basket filled with softly glowing apples.

Idun turns to Loki and regards him coolly. “Trickster. We meet again.”

He bristles at her use of his nickname. You call him Trickster out of fond exasperation, with a twinkle of a laugh in your voice. Her tone is not so kind. “Indeed we do. Have you been well?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to make of his casual conversation, but her face remains neutral. “My trees bear fruit, and so we live well,” she says simply. “Though it seems you will soon be excluded from such life. Are you prepared for the consequences?”

Reversing immortality is painful at best and lethal at worst. Odin could plan on torturing his son for decades in his dungeons, but there’s no guarantee that he will first survive the poison apple. “He does not have the privilege of choice,” Odin rumbles. “Prepare your spell.”

“Very well.” She inclines her head towards her king, then studies her basket carefully, eventually selecting a fruit that appears slightly plumper and fuller than the rest. Cupping it in her palms, she grazes its divine skin with a thumb, then brings the apple to her lips and begins to chant.

Aesir watch in morbid fascination as the healthy fruit begins to turn sickly and necrotic. Its golden sheen is replaced with a green-gray pallor, and it shrivels as though left in the sun for a thousand years, dripping hazy black smoke and droplets of acid that leave pockmarks on the floor as it leaks from her hands.

Even Idun doesn’t seem to take any pleasure at handing Loki the cursed apple. “May Heimdall smile kindly on your fate,” she whispers, and then retreats, as though she cannot bear to look.

Ash curls around his fingers and fills the air with a dead smell. “Eat,” Odin commands. “Accept your punishment with grace.”

Frigga looks as though she wants to cry, and Thor’s knuckles are clenched so tightly his skin has gone white. Loki looks at neither of them as he takes his first bite.

It tastes of rotted flesh, and acrid juice burns his throat and dribbles down his chin. Immediately, he can feel his stomach churn and his chest tighten as the curse works to undo thousands of years worth of magic. By the time he reaches the core and spits out the seeds into his palm, he feels as though fire is consuming his soul inch by inch.

The king nods in satisfaction. “So it is done. The All-Mother will oversee the revoking of your magic.” This time, Frigga visibly flinches. She cannot blatantly disobey her husband, but to have a hand in robbing her son of his pride and joy, a pride and joy that she herself fostered and nurtured from his infancy- it tears at her heart like nothing else. “Do you have anything to declare before you are taken into custody?”

Despite the agony curling around his person, Loki lifts his chin in quiet defiance. “I do.” He pauses, to make sure every eye is on him. “You call me Loki Odinson. You call me your son. But I believe we both know that I have ever been your son in name only, not in blood, love, or loyalty. I may die tomorrow, but I will die free, because today I declare my independence from the names that have haunted me for millennia. I am not Odinson, nor am I Laufeyson. I am Loki.” Loki’s eyes flare with pride as he fights to keep his voice steady. “I am singularly my own. I claim me for myself and no one else; with no unfulfilled names to carry with me to my grave. When I am stricken from Asgard’s history, remember me well as my own lord, master, and king.”

“GUARDS!” Odin roars, enraged by his words, but Loki simply smiles as his armored escorts drag him from the room by chains and lead him into the depths of Asgard’s castle. Yes, he may die tomorrow. But he will die liberated, with his last words ringing in all of the nine realms’ ears.

                                                             XXX

Frigga comes to visit him. He isn’t sure if she’s allowed to do this. He should ask, but most of the time he can’t do much more that shiver on the floor of his cell, arms wrapped around himself, jaw clenched to keep his teeth from rattling out of his skull.

At first, he curses Idun, but in his more lucid moments he admits she is only following his father’s orders. So he goes back to cursing Odin in between each painful breath.

Frigga can ease his pain slightly, but healing magic can only go so far when your very DNA is being re-written. She speaks with kindness, with love, and with pride, helping him through the worst nights when his stubbornness threatens to fail him and his resolve wavers as stars do in the sky.

“You spoke bravely, my son,” she whispers, her fingers against the barrier in front of her as though she might reach out and touch Loki’s face. “I have rarely been prouder. You have walked such a long road, and carried mountains on your shoulders that are all but invisible to others. And yet, you still find the courage to face your father as the prince I know you are. You have come so far.” In his chains, Loki clings to her every word. “Your love is looking up at the sky in awe, though she may not know why.”

Y/N. Just thinking your name eases a little of the sting that’s worked his way into his bones. As on Earth, you give him the hope to see another day.

“You shun the name of Odinson, and I cannot blame you for that. But I would be honored if someday, you would consider taking my own, Loki Friggason.”

Y/N Y/L/N. Loki Friggason. Two names to murmur in the dead of night to keep his heart beating until the sun rises once again.

A/N: Update 2 of 2 for tonight, sorry about that! The Idun kidnapping story is a real thing and you should def look it up, it’s a RIDE

[shawnsorangeglasses]

Peer Pressure

2.2k words

idea and proofreading credit to @rulerofnocountry. this one really put me out of my comfort zone and i thank you for that 💛.

synopsis: Months of sneaking around with his social media manager finally catches up with Shawn when he has to confront her about where they stand

warnings: angssstt, and a smidgen allusion to sex

sorry in advance

…

He wakes up in the middle of the night again. Brian is still snoring in bed on his side of the hotel room. Shawn sits up, rubbing his face, then falls back into his pillow, which is now warm and damp from his sweat. That had to be the worst dream to date. It was the kind you get where you’re not totally asleep, just hallucinating. Everyone he knew had him surrounded, yelling and screaming at him, but no sound came out of their mouths.

Shawn flips his pillow over to the cool side and buries his face, hoping to find some relief. His hand bumps into his phone on the bed sheets so he unlocks it. She still hasn’t texted back.

He knew deep down that this— whatever it is— couldn’t last forever. Somebody would find out and that would be the end of it all. Just picturing what that day will look like, feel like, makes his throat close up. He just has to hope it won’t blow up in his face.

Kristiana came on board the team about six months ago. Andrew introduced her during a press week as the new social media manager. At first, there was nothing but business. The industry could be unforgiving at times and he grew to dislike putting all his cards on the table for introductions. Somehow, Kris broke down those poorly made walls and found herself comfortable in his bubble. And Shawn welcomed it, of course, because why wouldn’t he? She was witty and affectionate and genuinely interested in him. She still is. At least, that’s what she said multiple times in a multitude of ways. Whenever she helped him with fan interactions, joined his now frequent live streams, and reminded him to go dark and take a break from the endless stream of information, life seemed to get easier to cope with. She never changed what he wanted his online presence to be, but rather helped him articulate his personality more. He owed so much of his peace of mind to her. Kris cemented herself as his anchor without even trying.

Needless to say, the level of intimacy has increased since then. Shawn deliberately reserved his doubts about her intentions, though they stayed in the background to some extent. Was she taking advantage of his age or his position? She had her own business going for herself so she didn’t need anything from him. She isn’t all that interested in making a spotlight for herself. And she made him feel so good, and wanted, and— as childish as it sounds— grown up. To let go now, at this point, might hurt too much.

It’s sleepless nights like this that make Shawn wonder if he made the right decision. If everything really was fine, why is there so much weight resting in his chest right now? Why does he feel like no one will understand if they come clean? Why does he feel the need to keep it a secret from everyone, including his family?

He turns on the bedside lamp and looks down at his bare chest. The marks he let her leave behind a few nights ago are starting to fade and heal. She’s certainly good at everything she does. The first time it happened was spontaneous. They were both missing home and only got a little drunk. Not enough to be unaware of the decision to have sex, but definitely enough to let go of their inhibitions. Weeks of pining for her and writing songs no one would ever hear all spilled out of him that evening. It felt right then. And every other time after.

Shawn unlocks his phone again and taps the Instagram icon. Her post happens to be the first thing on his timeline. Every photo of him on her profile looks so innocent and regular at first glance. Only he and Kris know the truth of what happened before that shutter clicked and she made him blush with a whisper. He was guilty of doing the same to her.

But something in him felt sick tonight. He got up and darted into the bathroom, gripping the sink to stop his hands from shaking. The dream was far too clear and vivid to be forgotten so easily. He knows trying to force the images out will only make them stronger, but to just sit in this anxiety, by himself is a nightmare in itself.

The truth is Kristiana had changed. She’s no longer carefree person she was before feelings got involved. Everything became so hush hush and secretive. What used to be fun and off the cuff hanging out turned into calculated sneaking around. It got to the point where she was scheduling the times the rest of the team would fall asleep so she and Shawn could visit each other’s hotel room for a few hours at a time. Although, he enjoyed the effort at first, it started to kill the virtue of their actions. He was losing sleep and had no appropriate explanation. It’s only a matter of time before the work starts to suffer.

A chime from his phone catches his attention. She finally replied.

[meet me in the lobby?]

…

Kris looks tired, but kind of the way a flower looks after being weighed down by the rain. Her hair is wet, twisted into a coil on her right shoulder. She’s biting her nails again, eyes glued to her phone, and he feels his heart soften. No one else is around this time of night except the front desk clerk. It feels like they’re past a nonexistent curfew.

“Kris,” he says quietly. Her head snaps around and she hops to her feet.

“Shawn,” she slides her cell into her pocket. “Hey.”

“Did I wake you?”

She shakes her head. “I never went to sleep.”

Shawn glances at the desk clerk who’s not paying them any mind, but he still worries. It’s a byproduct of sneaking around. “Could we go somewhere else?”

“Yeah sure.” Kris folds her arms over her chest, a thinking habit of hers. “There’s no one by the pool.”

They head for the back of the hotel to the gated outdoor patio. Shawn holds the door for her, taking the opportunity to see if they’ve been followed. He knows they haven’t, but his mind won’t let him rest without checking.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she starts.

“No you don’t, Kris.”

He takes one step towards her, single handedly capturing her in a feverish kiss. She reciprocates with the same vigor, and her fingers snake under his shirt and trace cold lines up his waistline. Her mouth is the only one he’s kissed that seems to melt into his perfectly. A surge of energy courses through Shawn’s body like it always does when he’s skin to skin with Kristiana and he knows this feeling is still very much real. That is until she pushes back, painfully removing his hands from her hips.

“Shawn, that is not what we came down here for. You and I both know that.”

Shawn goes numb from head to toe. It’s just now hitting him that he hadn’t decided on what he wanted to say to her or if he wanted to end it at all. The thought crossed his mind, but only long enough to leave a dull ache in his chest. It’s definitely going to hurt.

“You’ve been different lately,” he admits.

“Yeah well,” she crosses her arms. “What’s life without a little change every once in a while?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “Change isn’t always good.”

“Change is necessary,”  she reflects.

Shawn’s jaw sets. “I didn’t come down here to argue with you. Neither of us are happy like we used to be. But Kris, I still want to be with you and you’re not going to stand here and tell me you don’t feel something too.”

“I want us to be happy again too, and there’s a simple solution for that.“ She clears her throat. “I thought it over for a long time. I’ve decided to go remote again. For good this time.”

“What?”

“It’s the best move for both of us. Maybe the distance will clear our heads-”

“Kris, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Shawn paces the width of the pool, wetting his bare feet on the damp concrete. Kris steps out of his way, eyes trained on the ground. When he turns on his heel a third time, she’s briskly wiping her face. She never was one to cry in front of anybody, not even him. She obviously doesn’t want to end this, so she’s trying to make this business and not personal. That was the only part of her he never liked, when Kris shut down.

“You can’t just stand here and pretend like the last five months never happened.”

“I’m not. I already booked a flight for next week,” she finally says.

“Fucking cancel it!”

Kris steps in front of him. “Shawn, you don’t need me here.”

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna bail, after everything we’ve done together?”

“I don’t have a choice!”

“Bullshit. You do this every time it gets too real for you. We’re not in a boardroom meeting, Kris. We’re in a hotel. Standing next to a neon blue pool. Nothing about this is business.”

Her face holds its cold expression in spite of her growing red in her eyes. “I’m still going to be around, just not physically. When you need me, I can make myself available, but it has to be strictly work related. Boundaries have to be set.”

Shawn scoffs. “We’re way past setting boundaries, don’t you think?”

“There’s no use going through all the formalities, so I’ll just cut to the chase.” Kris stands up straighter. “This was a mistake and we’re better off separated. I can pretend it never happened if you can.”

“Stop it,” he says sharply. “I never said I wanted to stop.”

She exhales. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Kris, I get that you’re scared of what people will say. I do. But, if we just come clean-”

“Shawn, I can’t,” she blurts. “I- I can’t be that person for you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Kris doesn’t respond. Shawn pulls at his hair. His lungs fill with cool night air. “You don’t want it to be this way. I know you don’t.”

“Well then what do you want, Shawn? Because I can’t stand to watch you fall apart knowing it’s all my fault.”

“I want…” Shawn stops himself short. He has to be honest. “I want to not feel guilty about us anymore.”

“What does that have to do with me?” She tries to sound indignant, but a voice crack takes all the bite out of her words.

“It has everything to do with you, Kristiana. You’re the one that said we had to be under the radar. You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know about us. And I’ve tried to be understanding, but how do you think that makes me feel?”

Kris shakes her head. “All the more reason for me to leave. You’ll have room to think when I’m gone. I shouldn’t be in your life if I make you feel so terrible.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly. “Stop twisting it to fit your reasoning. We can just tell everyone the truth!���

“No. We can’t.” Kris finally holds eye contact with Shawn for the first time since they left the lobby. “No one will forgive us for this. Be realistic.”

Her face is puffy and flush from all the tears and it’s almost scary to see her this way, like finding a wounded animal. She’s just as lost and hurt as Shawn is in this moment.

“I’ve booked the flight and I’m leaving,” she says through her broken voice. “My mind has been made up for a while.”

Shawn sits down on a foldable chair, deflated. The shakes were gone by now. Even when she’s being infuriating, she was calming him down.

“Fine. You win.”

“Shawn, please.”

“No, you’re absolutely right, Kris. We’re done.”

She cautiously places a hand on his shoulder and he swears it stings. “You’ll realize later on that this was for the best,” she promises.

“That’s your problem Kris.” Shawn rises to his feet again, rubbing the burning wet from his eyelids. “Always thinking ten steps ahead and forgetting what’s right in front of you. Life isn’t some fucking Instagram post or tweet for you to plan.”

Kris falls silent, marking her end of the discussion. Shawn doesn’t wait around any longer. In about six long strides, he’s back to the hotel entrance. He swipes his card key and pulls the handle. Even though he knows he shouldn’t, he turns around. Kris is stood at the edge of the pool, checking her phone. It’s as if the fight never happened and she’s back to work as usual.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets to breathe. Taking the elevators isn’t an option, should somebody see him in this state and wonder what’s wrong. He ducks into the stairwell and the tear tracks are made before he can reach the first step. Shawn stays there on the frigid tile until the sobs stop coming. He doesn’t want to wake up Brian.

…

taglist:

@rulerofnocountry @sinceweremutual @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @shawnmendes048 @onigirishawn @shawn-youth @nevermindmisha @ashwarren32 @witch-bitch-life

[houseki-no-suffering]

Heal

So, @rinboz has been feeding me Hozier songs lately. while i cant say im fully converted to the irish jesus’ gospel, im definitely digging the angst and that’s how this little oneshot was born.

It features broke Phos and Shinsha moving in together, Phos struggling with phantom pain and new prosthetics and a lot of fluff. Hope you’ll like it!

word count: 1352 notes: Cinnaphos, human AU, hurt/comfort

Phos could hear the clattering of plates and mugs coming from the kitchen, where Cinnabar had disappeared no less than ten minutes ago with a promise of coffee.

By the number of curses, Phos wagered that Shinsha was fighting against some ancient metallic dragon that went by the name ‘unpacking’— and that they were currently losing.

Phos would offer some help, but they knew they would be kicked out of the room without a second word.

So they took in a breath, ignoring the electrical feeling of small, shooting lightning bolts that was beginning to creep up the arms they no longer had. They focused on the guitar. They held it closer to their chest using their shoulders, hovering over it. Hugging things, they were finding, was the way to go with prosthetics.

With pursed lips, Phos let their right thumb brush tentatively across the strings, ignoring the pain. It was almost funny; their hand was of the same material of a very fancy pick.

The music came out in awkward waves, overlapping with the metallic clang of pots and the distinctive sound of cutlery being launched into the sink.

Phos focused again, trying to count the time with their foot.

Their phantom fingers burned as if they had been running across the strings for hours, and it did feel like running, like Phos was chasing after the beats but their body just wouldn’t respond. They felt their hands move at the right time, if they closed their eyes Phos could even see them, but the sound that came out of the guitar never matched. The strumming was either too slow or too fast, tinny, Phos’ hand stumbling, falling at the end of each repetition like dead weight.

Phos clenched their fist, grumbling when their fingers managed to curl on themselves only after the frustration had begun to dissolve.

Their fretting hand hurt around the neck of the guitar, and its angle wasn’t even correct. Their fingers pressed down strings and fret indistinctly, rigid, impossibly slow. They wouldn’t keep up with Phos’ commands and Phos felt like their head was about to explode from the strain.

Phos swallowed a lump of anxiety.

They could do this. It had barely been a couple of months, these things took time. Hell, they could hold a guitar at least. They were technically hugging it with what little remained of their upper arms, true, but it had to count for something.

They tried humming the chorus, halving the time, waiting for their fingers to press down a string, then the other, quivering over the length of the neck until they had a full chord. They strummed again. It sounded horrible. 

They considered blaming it on the instrument, but it would still be Phos’ fault: there was no way they would be able to tune it, not now.

Holding their breath, Phos stumbled their hand over the strings again, and again, trying to at least have it move in unison with their frustration when it wouldn’t with the music. A dead lump of carbon fibers, foreign, cold, lagging, weighing Phos down, mocking them— and yet their wrist hurt as if it was being twisted and stabbed, their fingers bleeding from burst blisters, throbbing with pain from the thousands of notes Phos was not playing. Their shoulders were sore already and they hadn’t even finished a single stanza.

Phos’ vision was becoming blurred. They gulped down again, their chest tight.

Suddenly, they felt the warmth of lips kissing the top of their head and a pair of arms hugging them from behind.

“This sucks,” Phos breathed out, almost laughing when they realized the hoarseness of their own voice. They wanted to wipe their eyes, but if they let go of the guitar it would again take them ten minutes to position it correctly.

“I can’t even play a chord,” it came out as dull as Phos wanted it to sound.

“I know,” Cinnabar mumbled against their back.

They held Phos tighter, running their fingers in soft circles around Phos’ shoulders, caressing their arms, gliding over scars. They placed another kiss on Phos’ shoulder, just slightly above the point where skin and metal met, then on their cheek. “It’s gonna be okay,” they said.

Phos sniffled, releasing some tension from their back. “Yeah,” they mumbled, trying to convince themselves.

Cinnabar shifted, unwrapping their arms from Phos’ back. Phos regretted the lack of warmth until Cinnabar joined them on the couch, nestling between Phos and their guitar. They leaned their head on Phos, caressing their fingers with rapt interest.

“I can’t play,” Cinnabar mumbled eventually, “have no idea what a chord looks like. You’re still better than me?”

Phos scoffed, but couldn’t find enough heart to come up with a reply.

The seconds began to stretch again, until Cinnabar, with the playfulness of a cat, entwined their fingers with Phos’ and started tapping their laced hands against the guitar body.

“What are you doing?” Phos asked.

“Music.”

“What about coffee?”

“Shush, I’m onto something,” Cinnabar said before slamming their hands against the wood with a little more force.

“Ouch,” Phos flinched, “that hurt,” and it did, even if it shouldn't have.   

“Sorry.”

Cinnabar stopped, running their thumb over Phos’ prosthetic hand as if lost in thought. Then they brought it to their lips, kissing it better.

“Here,” they said, “You’re a big baby,”

“You knew that already.”

“Yes,” Cinnabar admitted, “Guess I have a thing for idiots.”

“Oof.”

With a soft hum, Cinnabar snuggled closer to Phos, resuming their tapping. They seemed to have found some sort of rhythm, a sharp cadence, dense with pauses, that Cinnabar accompanied with a low humming.

Phos recognized the song a second before Cinnabar started mumbling the words. They tried to follow, tapping their other hand on the neck of the guitar and finding that, despite the pain, they could keep up with the some of the beats.

“Lay me gently in the cold dark earth,” Cinnabar mumbled.

“No grave… can hold my body down,” Phos followed, tapping against the wood.

“I’ll crawl home to her... hmm-m. Hmm-m.”

“You forgot the rest of the song,” Phos wagered.

Cinnabar pouted.

“No.”

Phos’ free hand moved on its own accord and went to poke Shinsha’s cheek.

There was no way Cinnabar didn’t see it coming, with the fatigued seconds it took Phos’ fingers to curl up and for the index to stretch. And yet Cinnabar didn’t move, nor did they make any comment about Phos’ hand being too cold or lacking grace.

“Kitty,” Phos said.

“‘M not.”

“You’re pouting again.”

“‘M not.”

Phos chuckled, kissing Cinnabar’s forehead

“Thanks,” they mumbled.

Cinnabar turned their head ever so slightly, enough to catch Phos’ lips in a soft kiss.

“Anytime,” they smiled, and then they picked up the guitar from Phos’ hands and placed it on the floor so they could snuggle closer, hugging Phos’ chest.

Phos rested their head on top of Cinnabar’s, lost in the moment. They gazed lazily at the room with half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of used cardboard boxes and bare walls as if seeing them for the first time.

A house. A home. It smelled of cheap paint, old wood, burnt coffee, it smelled of Cinnabar.

There was something scary about beginnings, even for someone who thrived in novelty like Phos, and yet here they were. But it would be okay. They could still feel Cinnabar’s arms around their chest, feel their warmth, smell the unusual presence of shampoo on their hair. That hadn’t changed. It would be okay, eventually. Phos could relearn to play and to write and to do other things. And maybe it wouldn’t work out, but they could pick up new things to learn. Maybe the drums. Cinnabar would definitely love the noise.

“Shinsha?”

“Mh?” Cinnabar mumbled against their chest.

“Is it burnt coffee I smell?”

Cinnabar groaned, furrowing their brows.

“Let it burn.”

Phos chuckled, holding Cinnabar closer. They hoped they would still have a kitchen after a week of Cinnabar cooking their meals, but to hell with that. They could always beg Dia for food.

[jiayuki]

JK OT7 Hurt/Comfort

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 21/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3343 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thanks goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan wakes up alone.

His head is squashed into his pillow, mouth hanging open with drool drying at the corner of his lips, hair matted atop his head. His body feels weighed down, heavy on the mattress. The burn in his chest has faded to a simmer that sparks when his ribs expand around an inhale.

The air grates at his throat. So does the groan Dan lets out when it hurts.

He manages to roll onto his back so he can orient himself. Phil’s pillow is still sitting there, bright and blue and such a contrast to the dreary grays covering the rest of Dan’s room. On the nightstand, there’s a bright yellow post-it scribbled with black that Dan’s fairly certain is a note.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He shifts towards the edge of the mattress, arms aching in their attempt to move his weight, until he’s sitting in front of Phil’s pillow. It hurts his shoulder, but he leans over and plucks the post-it from its spot. Phil’s messiest handwriting is scrawled across it in black sharpie.  

I had to go to work :( I called Taylor to make sure you’re okay so she should be here somewhere. I hope you’re feeling better.

The last few words are tiny, wedged into the corner of the paper. Above that, there’s a smudge of ink that looks almost like it was meant to be a heart.

Dan tries to tell himself it’s nothing, that Phil just pressed the marker to the paper for a moment too long, but his smile still grows wider.

He stares at the note for a really long time.

---

It takes Dan a while to drag himself out of bed.

His legs are still shaky under his weight and there’s a dull ache in the back of his neck that makes it hard to hold his head steady. He finds a pair of pyjama bottoms and struggles to pull them on so that he’s not in just his pants, but his chest still stings when it’s touched.

Besides, Taylor’s seen him shirtless before.

Pressing one hand to the wall for support, he leaves his bedroom, taking slow, steady steps into the lounge. He sees Taylor sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. Her hair’s thrown back into a high ponytail and she’s hunched over a book he can hardly see, a pen perched in one hand.

She was supposed to be at uni today. Dan swallows against the guilt that comes with the realization.

He manages to stumble halfway to the sofa before she notices him. Her pen clatters against the table as she bounces to her feet, and before he can take another step, she’s dipping under his arm and draping it over her shoulder.

“You could have, I don’t know, called out or something.”

Dan huffs out a laugh. Something twinges in his chest. “I was fine to walk, you know.”

“Phil said you almost fainted.”

“Yesterday. Then I got IV fluids and slept,” he says. They’ve reached the sofa by then, and Dan drops onto the cushions, lets his weight sink into the soft blanket laid over them. “You know my blood pressure does that sometimes, Tay. And then it recovers.”

Taylor shrugs. She drops back onto the floor without a word, and starts fidgeting with her pen. Dan counts how many times she clicks it.

There’s thirteen clicks before she speaks.

“Phil made it sound like you were dying or something,” she says. “I figured it was pretty bad.”

“Oh,” says Dan. “It wasn’t. That bad, I mean.”

He turns his head against the sofa, presses his nose to the blanket Phil got him. When his eyes drift closed, it’s to the image of Phil’s face last night, eyes gleaming with tears, staring at Dan attached a machine by so many wires. It’s to the phantom feeling of Phil’s goodnight kiss dusting across his hair.

“He was worried?” he hears himself ask.

Taylor huffs. “That’s an understatement,” she says. “He didn’t want to leave. I’m pretty sure he was late to work, actually. He just kept going around the house making sure everything was okay. There’s a smoothie for you in the fridge, by the way.”

“He made me a smoothie?”

Taylor hums. There’s a grin drawing at the corners of her mouth, happiness reaching her eyes. She looks good. She looks healthy.

Healthier than she has since Dan’s known her, at least.

Dan smiles back at her. He lets his gaze drift to the textbook that lies open, and it drops.

“More bio?”

“Yeah,” says Taylor. She sets her pen down again, but her head stays dipped towards the book of notes Dan couldn’t even try to understand. “You know how I’m seeing a counselor?”

It’s a whisper, too shy for the girl who would barge into his dorm when he was half-naked to do her homework and keep him company.

Dan forces himself to nod. “Yeah.”

“Well she thinks I should switch courses,” says Taylor. “I don’t know if I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh.” Dan swallows. His chest feels tight again, locked with uncertainty. It shouldn’t be a surprise, he thinks. But Taylor never talked about it, not of her own volition.

Then again, there were a lot of things Taylor didn’t do for herself. Things she couldn’t do for herself.

“I think you should, if it would make you happy,” says Dan.

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees her shoulders sag with relief.

---

They sit in silence for most of the day. Morning was already bleeding into afternoon when Dan woke up, and even now, with the day’s brightest sun peaking out from beneath the blanket curtain, he can’t muster energy to do much more than stare vaguely at the TV.

His vision goes out of focus every time there’s a flurry of movement on screen. Dan’s not even sure which movie it is that Taylor put on.

It’s not very good. At least, the bits his brain can pick up on aren’t very good.

He looks away. His neck feels weak and his head bobs a bit when he leans forward, but his gaze settles on Taylor. She’s still sitting on the floor, still reading her biology textbook.

Dan wonders how her brain can possibly be absorbing any of that.

“Taylor?”

She looks up, twisting so she’s facing him. Her eyes look a little hazy, but not nearly as much as they used to. Like maybe the prospect of leaving the sciences behind has reinvigorated her.

Not that the prospect of dropping out had done anything of the sort for–

“Dan?”

He blinks. Taylor’s still staring at him, brows furrowed in concern.

“Geez,” she says. “I thought you were gonna faint on me.”

Dan frowns. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

It’s starting to sound petulant to his own ears, but then his mind flashes back to one of the times he laid in the hospital sobbing as his chest seemed to want to cave in. Lightheadedness, though it makes anxiety curl tight in his gut, is nothing in comparison.

Taylor’s just staring at him now, and Dan wonders when he started feeling the need to explain himself to her.

“Really,” he repeats. There’s a pause as fingers catch at the edge of the blanket and he mumbles: “Did Phil really seem that worried?”

Her eyes go a little somber at that, and her shoulders a little tense. Dan’s hand wraps tighter around the fleece, thumb drifting over tiny furs in the fabric. He reminds himself that Phil bought it for him, tried to make his new home comfortable in the tiny ways he knew how at the time, in all the ways he’s learning to help.

There’s still a smoothie in the fridge for him. One that Phil left there.

“Honestly?” says Taylor, and Dan nods. “I think he was catastrophizing.”

“Oh,” says Dan. His chest feels tight again, because Dan knows what that means. He’s been there. Sometimes, in the darkness of nights where his body aches too much for his mind to drift off to sleep, he still ends up there.

Taylor, he knows, has been there, too.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He didn’t say it,” she says. “It just kinda seemed like he was scared that if he left you, he would, you know, lose you.”

A lump wells in Dan’s throat. He swallows against it. All he manages in response is another quiet: “Oh.”

Taylor stares at him for a long moment after that, then shrugs one shoulder and turns back to her book.

“I could be wrong,” she says. “I don’t know him all that well.”

Dan shakes his head. He draws the blanket around himself, just a corner of fleece pulled pitifully over his chest because he can’t be bothered to stand and free the fabric from under his weight. Taylor’s not watching to see his eyes slip closed.

She wasn’t there to see the look on Phil’s face when Dan was hooked up to the ECG.

“I think you’re right,” he says.

Taylor drops her pen, turning to look at him again. “You do?”

“Yeah,” says Dan. “I just– There’s one thing that bugged me.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Part of him doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to place Phil anywhere near the doubts that lurk in the back of Dan’s mind. But the memory of the ECG fades into one from before, from back at the flat, Dan’s head still spinning and chest aching and Phil trying to help.

“Well?”

Something’s stinging behind Dan’s eyes, and he hates that he knows exactly why.

“He didn’t wanna go to A&E,” he says. “Like he seemed to get that it was serious, but he wanted to wait and see and I don’t know it just reminded me of–”

He clamps his mouth shut, but Taylor knows. She knows too much, he thinks, about the little things that linger, heavy, on his shoulders, about the memories he can’t entirely erase.

“Your parents?”

It’s a whisper, one they both know is true. Dan nods anyway, guilt twisting painfully in his gut.

She reaches up, rests a hand on his knee. Her eyes have gone soft, her gaze tripping over where Dan’s clutching the blanket too tightly, like a child.

“He’s not like your parents,” says Taylor. “You know that.”

Dan nods, because he does. He knows it so much it hurts, more than the lingering pressure against his ribs and the ache blooming at the back of his head, to doubt it.

Taylor squeezes his knee. “You okay?”

He’s not sure. But then again, Dan’s never sure when people ask him that.

He shrugs, and mumbles: “Yeah.”

---

Dan falls asleep to the sound of a boring film and the turning pages of Taylor’s textbook.

He wakes up to the TV gone silent, different voices drifting past his ears. His mind’s still hazy with fatigue, every thought a little blurry around the edges, mingling with the lingering vividness of some dream about college he doesn’t particularly care about.

He cares about the voices much more.

“Dan and I were talking,” says one. Taylor, he realizes a second later than he probably should. She must not be sitting on the lounge floor anymore because she sounds farther away.

He considers cracking his eyes open to check, but that takes effort.

“He said you didn’t wanna go to A&E,” she continues.

Dan’s stomach twists. If sleep wasn’t still rooted so heavily in his bones he would let them know he’s awake now just so she’d stop talking. In the same brilliance as a dream, Dan can picture Phil fidgeting, reaching up to comb his fringe out of his eyes like he always does.

He wonders if Taylor would notice that, too.

“He said that?” says the other voice, and Dan already knew it would be Phil but something shudders down his spine at the confirmation.

Taylor’s actually telling him about this.

There’s a hum, then silence. Dan wishes he could see. The dread has settled into a morbid curiosity now that he’s a little more awake, a little more aware, so he listens.

“Yeah,” says Phil. “I guess I was a little hesitant.”

“Hesitant?” says Taylor. “Or anxious?”

Dan has to count to keep his breath from catching. Four seconds to inhale and eight to exhale, once, twice, and a third time because his chest feels tight with knowledge he’s not supposed to have.

Knowledge he doesn’t have, he reminds himself. Phil still hasn’t responded.

Dan thinks that might be answer enough.

“I don’t mean to assume,” says Taylor. “I just have a bit of experience with that stuff. You can tell me if I’m wrong.”

There’s more silence. Phil still isn’t saying anything and Dan wonders if he’s staring at Taylor all wide-eyed and nervous like Dan did when she first asked him if he was ill. Or if he’s staring at the table, twisting his hand and letting his fringe cover his eyes the way Dan knows Phil does.

“Does Dan know?”

His breath does catch this time. And then he doesn’t breathe, too scared either of them noticed.

It’s not a yes, but it’s definitely not a denial either.

They must not have. There’s the quiet scratch of the chair against the floor, and a steady tapping Dan thinks must be someone’s foot. One of them, probably Phil, takes a deep breath, and Dan’s reassured enough that he does the same, easing some of the ache burning between his ribs.

“Dan has enough to worry about,” says Phil. “Besides, it’s mostly a resolved issue.”

And that’s it, a confirmation that shudders painfully through Dan’s chest.

“You should tell him,” says Taylor. “He’d want to know.”

Dan swallows. It sounds loud to his own ears, but no one else seems to hear it. His fingers twitch by the blanket still draped over his chest. He wants to pull it even tighter around himself.

He wants to wrap it around Phil and make sure he knows he can tell Dan things, too.

They don’t say another word after that.

Dan counts the seconds ticking by in his head until he thinks it’s been long enough that he can pretend to wake up.

---

Taylor stays for dinner.

Phil orders a pizza that they share as Dan sips at another smoothie. Taylor tells him about possibly changing her course and Phil offers advice far better than Dan could ever come up with. They laugh about how terrible they are at science. Dan joins in on that.

His chest aches afterwards. He’s not entirely sure it’s from the laughter.

When the pizza box is mostly empty and leftovers are being shoved into the fridge, Taylor tells them she should be heading out. She shoves her books into a backpack Dan didn’t realize she’d brought and thanks them for the food and the smile on her face looks real, looks happy.

She hugs Dan goodbye, the distant kind that doesn’t put any pressure against his ribs.

“Feel better,” she says. “And remember that he’s good for you.”

Dan watches her hug Phil afterwards, the tighter kind that has her standing on her toes instead of bending down. She says something against Phil’s shoulder, so quietly Dan can’t make out the words.

“Good luck with school,” Phil says in response.

Taylor laughs as she pulls away. “Thank you,” she says.

She looks like she means it.

Phil might be good for her, too, Dan thinks.

He wonders if either of them are good for Phil.

---

They sit on the sofa again that night.

It’s not even a conscious thing anymore when Dan presses himself against Phil’s side, letting his head drop to rest on Phil’s shoulder. Fingers thread into his hair and rub gentle patterns against his head and Dan stares at the TV screen, at whatever show’s playing now, but his vision can’t focus.

Neither can his brain.

The blanket is draped over both of them now, tucked in against Dan’s side and Phil’s thigh. Beneath it, Dan reaches over to rest his hand on Phil’s knee.

There was a time when that was the only part of Dan that Phil would touch. It seems like so long ago now.

“Can I ask you something?”

Phil looks away from the screen. His eyes look a little hazy. A soft smile curls at the corner of his mouth and makes Dan’s chest go warm.

“Of course,” he says.

Dan squeezes his knee. “How are you?” he says. His voice feels thick in his throat and breaks into a whisper. “I feel like last night was new for you and I just– Yeah. How are you?”

He watches Phil’s brows furrow, feeling something tighten in his stomach at the sight. White tears flash into his mind, a pale face and uncertain frown and Phil’s fingers gripping the hospital bed like he was even more unsteady than Dan had felt.

Dan wonders if his chest had ached, too. If something different had rooted itself between Phil’s ribs that night, took his breath the way pain stole Dan’s.

“I should be asking you that,” says Phil.

His fingers have gone still in Dan’s hair, his smile a little faded.

“I’m used to it, though,” says Dan. “You’re not, right? It was new for you?”

His hand tightens at the back of Dan’s neck. It sends a shot of pain down Dan’s spine, blooming across the back of his head, but he forces himself not to wince. He wants to hear what Phil has to say. He wants to listen, for once.

Phil deserves a friend that will listen,

“Yeah, I guess it was new,” says Phil. “But that doesn’t matter–”

“It matters to me.”

Phil’s eyes go wide and Dan wants to says of course it matters to me, you idiot, you’ve done more for me than anyone ever has, but it feels like too much. It all feels like too much, because Phil’s fingers move in his hair again so he’s cradling the back of Dan’s head.

Dan’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

But Phil just leans in closer and dusts a gentle kiss to Dan’s head.

Again.

He pulls away like it’s nothing, and tugs Dan back against his chest like he belongs there.

It feels like he does.

God, for the first time in so long it feels like he belongs somewhere.

“It was new for me, okay?” says Phil. “And maybe a little scary. Hospitals aren’t exactly my strong suit, and I don’t– It’s scary to see someone you care about attached to machines like that, even if they’re used to it. But I’m fine. I’d go there again tonight if you needed to.”

He sucks in a deep breath when he stops talking. Dan’s pressed so close to him, he can see, can feel the small stutter of his ribs.

“You would?” he asks.

Phil huffs out a laugh that makes no noise, but rumbles through his chest, echoes in Dan’s. “Of course I would,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Maybe it’s supposed to be.

Except no one else has ever been willing to do it before.

“You needed it,” says Phil. “I wanna help you when you need things.”

Dan smiles. His hand is still on Phil’s knee and Phil’s is still in his hair. He watches Phil’s chest rise and fall with a breath and forces himself to mirror it, past the pressure in his chest that burns bright and brilliant and new.

He’s used to a lot of things.

This, Dan realizes, isn’t one of them.

Maybe because, this time, something about it feels good.

He turns his head, hides his face against Phil’s shoulder so he can’t see the TV or the curtains or the silhouette of his hand on Phil’s leg through the blanket they’re sharing.

“I wanna help you when you need things, too,” he mumbles, pressing the words against Phil’s skin.

[ss-sadie]

Giving In

It had only been a few hours ago when Hancock had offered drinks to Piper and Sadie for a job well done. Before they could even order, Sturges ran into the bar and announced that the teleporter was finally finished. It turned into a party, the work of so many months was finally accomplished. All of Sadie’s friends were there offering her drinks. This was it. No turning back now. She would be off to The Institute in the morning. No one mentioned the deathclaw in the room. This was a farewell party; a premature wake. There was a real possibility that she might not make it back. However, everyone put on a good face, and the party had lasted into the early hours of the morning. Sadie had excused herself an hour ago, saying she needed to prepare for the next morning. Hancock wanted to go with her, but she insisted he enjoy himself.

He strolled through the street of Sanctuary, the last straggler to finally leave the bar. He patted his pockets in search of some Jet. He must’ve finished off the last of it during the celebration.  It had been awhile since he and Sadie had stopped in Goodneighbor, or hell, any place with a good dealer. She had been so focused on gathering supplies for Sturges…He thought for a moment. The clinic was closed, Mama Murphy was already asleep…He did have another option. He didn’t want to disturb Sadie, but they kept their shared stash in a footlocker under her bed. She wouldn’t mind.

He let himself into her home. The lights were off, she must’ve already gone to bed. Hancock tried to move stealthily down the short hallway to the bedroom but came to a standstill when he heard crying. He hesitated only for a moment, a dark thought crossing his mind; If this was her last night, she wasn’t going to be alone.

Sadie was huddled on her bed.  She felt guilty for leaving the party early, but it was going to be hard enough to say goodbye to everyone the next morning. Everything she had been fighting for, everything she had been working towards, led to tomorrow. But something gave her pause. Six months ago, she couldn’t have imagined that she would build a life for herself, thrive in this hellscape of an environment, find people who actually cared for her…the dichotomy of the situation weighed heavily. To save Shaun, she might lose everything. This was her son, her baby…she had to go. She tried to muster every ounce of courage she had. That’s why she listened to Nate’s holotape.

“I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother you are. But, we're going to anyway. You are kind, and loving, and funny, that's right, and patient. So patient…”

Hancock froze. It took him a moment to realize what she was listening to. He had never told Sadie, but he had heard snippets before. She would play her late husband’s tape occasionally when she thought he was sleeping or out of earshot. He always tried to give her privacy. He shouldn’t be listening. It felt wrong. He was interrupting something sacred, but he couldn’t turn away this time.

“I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes sure, things we'll need to adjust to…”

Sadie let out a sob and curled in on herself. Hearing Nate’s voice was both a hurt and a comfort. She still mourned for him, still had a hole in her chest where her family should be. Her old life was gone, but with Shaun, she could start to genuinely heal. Hancock had never seen her so vulnerable before. He felt an anger in his chest. Nate was right; She was kind, loving, funny, patient, but Jesus, she was strong. Stronger than most people he had met. She didn’t deserve any of the shit dumped on her...And here he was, listening to her cry while he spied on her.

He cleared his throat and called to her, “Sadie?”

Shit. She had been too loud. She had hoped Hancock was still at the bar or passed out by now. Sadie shut her eyes tightly, trying to pretend she was sleeping, even as the holotape continued to play.

“…everything we do no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye-bye, say bye-bye…Bye honey, we love you.”

She thought her ruse had worked until she felt a weight on the bed and a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t want Hancock to see her like this. How much had he heard?

“Just checkin’ in on ya…everything alright?” he asked awkwardly. Of course, things weren’t alright, he chided himself, She’s been fighting like hell for half a year, and helping every charity case in the Commonwealth to boot. It seemed things were finally catching up, that she was finally feeling the weight on her shoulders.

Sadie quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and rolled over to face him. “Oh…Hancock, sorry, I-I didn’t realize how much noise I was making,” she apologized, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was up anyway…” Even now, she was selfless. He felt a pang of guilt.  If he hadn’t been so eager for another hit of Jet, she would be alone… it absolutely crushed him. He had been travelling with her long enough to know better. He should have done a better job at looking out for her. “Big day tomorrow…” It was all he could think to say.

“Is it? Had no idea.” she replied with snark, even though her voice wavered.

“Can’t blame ya,” Hancock grinned and sat down next to her on the bed, “Might get zapped out of existence. Still not sure Sturges and Tom know what they’re doing.” He chuckled at his own black humor, but stopped when he saw her face, white as a sheet. “Don’t joke like that,” she said in a tense voice. “Fuck, Sadie, I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I was just trying-“ “I know…”

There was silence as she reached under the bed for the small footlocker. It was deafening to Hancock. He wanted to make things better, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to handle the situation. She brought out two inhalers. Sadie inhaled, leaned against him, and let the jet flood her system. For the first time that night, she began to feel calm.

She offered one to Hancock, but he politely shook his head. “You wanna talk? Makin' me a little nervous over here.” He teased with an anxious laugh.

Sadie was silent for another moment. How could she begin to explain how she was feeling to this man she respected and cared for? He was so driven by bravery and justice, and she felt like a coward. Still embarrassed by the whole ordeal, she sighed and attempted to change the subject, “You know…I’m really glad I blew a hole in your storeroom.” “Yeah?” he smirked with curiosity, “Not that I mind you singin’ my praises, but why’s that?” “You’re the one person I can be myself around,” she continued, “I feel guilty for saying this, but being the Vault Dweller, the General, Agent Charmer, Knight Smith…even the Silver Shroud,” he smiled as she used her Shroud voice, “It gets tiring…Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for everyone’s help, and I’m proud of the good we’re doing, but I’m always on stage.”

Sadie put a hand on his knee, “With you, I’m…just Sadie. A ball of anxiety with a law degree. No judgements…just fire support and a shit ton of drugs…” she took a puff of Jet again, a weight off her chest, “You’re a good man, Mayor Hancock.”

He put his arm around her, “It ain't often wandering off with a stranger turns out this well for me. Never expected I'd ever meet my match…Nice to be wrong. You and me? We’ve done some real damn good out here. And I’m looking forward to doin’ a lot more.” he took her hand from his knee and held it in his own, she didn’t flinch in the slightest, “Just so you know though…” he purred in her ear, “You’re sellin’ yourself short, sister. Being boss is a lot of cleaning up other people’s messes. I understand havin’ to put on an act for political purposes, but I’ve been around for most of your characters…the roles might change, but your heart doesn’t.” Sadie grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “You're not going soft on me, are ya, Hancock?” “Hey, everyone's entitled to some softness,” he mused, “for me, it's pretty much everything below the eyebrows…I told ya before, you’re someone who's not willing to take things the way they're handed to you. You’re stronger than you think.”

They sat in silence again, her hand in his, the second Jet inhaler left untouched. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much she wanted to say, “I’m terrified about tomorrow,” she admitted. “I’m worried for ya too. I don’t want you going alone,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed at how much he’d become attached to her, “I know…you can handle yourself in a fight,” he reassured her, “but I still don’t like it. The Institute is bigger than anything either of us has come across…” He hesitated, trying not to be selfish. “You don’t have to go right now,” he blurted out, “Maybe if Sturges and Tom do some more research we could go together, guns blazing-”

“You know I have to. I’ve already missed ten years of Shaun’s life. If I wasn’t chicken, I would’ve left the second Sturges told me the teleporter was working.” She criticized herself bitterly. He tried to lighten the mood again. “Sure that thing isn’t built for two?” Sadie shook her head, “Even if it was, we couldn’t risk it. Your people need their mayor. Besides, I don’t think anyone down there has ever seen someone with your…” she looked him up and down, “rugged good looks before,” she teased, “You’d be too much of a distraction.” He goaded her with a wicked grin, “For you or them?” She gave a small laugh. He was happy he could still make her smile. “No need to butter me up,” his expression hardened, “I know you gotta do this.”

Their conversation dulled again. He knew there was more that Sadie wasn’t discussing. She had listened to every concern and story he had told about himself, sharing along the way, but always restrained. Ever since he met her, she had always put the needs of others above herself. It’s what drew him to her in the first place. Even the heist she pulled against him was done out of good intentions. Her desire to play Robin Hood for the Commonwealth had let Bobbi trick her.

The truth was, Sadie felt selfish. Everyone in this world had their own problems. She didn’t want to burden anyone with hers.

He tried another approach, “So, uh…what were you listening to?” “The first day I woke up and crawled my way out of the Vault…Codsworth gave me this holotape. Nate had left it with him for safe-keeping right before…” she trailed off, tears in her eyes. She took another hit of Jet, “It doesn’t matter…just listening to ghosts…” She knew she could trust her friends, especially Hancock, but she still hesitated. With the present objective, it was hard to talk openly with him. She cared about him. She felt guilty about just how much. She should be focusing on finding her son, avenging her husband…but somewhere between the chems and heroics, she had fallen for this man. She couldn’t admit it to herself, let alone Hancock. She didn’t give a damn about his condition or what others would think, but she had to keep things compartmentalized to stay sane. Find Shaun, takedown the Institute, live her life. Falling for someone so quickly after Nate’s death wasn’t part of the plan. It was too big of a risk, and yet, Hancock had become her life-line. He had saved her in so many ways. If anything happened to him, she wouldn’t know what she’d do.

“Hey, you’ve listened to enough of my sorry-ass story. Least I can do is the same courtesy. What’s on your mind?” He tried to offer solace.

This small act of kindness broke her. “Hancock, everyone is looking to me for answers and I have no idea what I’m doing,” her voice shook. Survivor’s guilt crashing down on her, “I don’t know why they took Shaun, why I was left alive, why I woke up…It should’ve been me,” she confessed in a small whisper. Hancock opened his mouth in surprise. She couldn’t mean… “I should’ve died. Nate was the one holding Shaun…What kind of mother doesn’t cling to her baby for dear life?” she asked bitterly. “If I had been holding him, it could have been different.” “You were inside that monster’s head,” Hancock reminded her, “Kellogg would’ve killed you if you fought back.”

“Maybe it would have been better that way,” she said in a hollow voice. “Nate deserved a chance. He would know what to do. He’d have a plan. He was a soldier,” Tears were streaking down her face as she continued, “I tried to stop it…I hit the glass as hard as I could but it wouldn’t…I wasn’t…” she trailed off, reliving that moment. “When I woke up…I wanted to die. The Vault was a graveyard. Everyone I knew was gone. I spent hours trying to get out. When I did, I came here. Everything was destroyed or looted, but Codsworth…” she gave a faint smile, “he waited for us for two hundred years and he kept this tape for me the whole time,” she lifted the Pipboy on her arm. “It kept me going for a while. Helped me to remember what I was fighting for…then I met Preston, Piper, Nick…you,” her eyes met his dark gaze as she gripped his hand tighter, “You’ve helped me to survive, showed me that there was still good in this world. You brought my hope back, gave me friends…a chance at a family again…I’m risking my life for my child, I’d do it a hundred times over, but what’s going to happen to you when I leave?”

“H-hey, don’t worry about us, we’ll hold the fort down until you make it back. Smartest thing I’ve done is throwin’ in with you…” he put his arm around her shaking shoulders, “I was just kiddin’ before. I know you’ll make it back home. I’m sorry…I didn’t know how much this was weighin’ on ya. Should’ve been paying more attention. I understand your pain, but it wasn’t your fault. None of it was. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Like you told me, you can’t blame yourself. Gotta keep that in mind when you’re out there.” “I didn’t think I had anything else to lose, but I do,” she shifted her body closer to his, “I can’t lose you.”

She was more kind than he deserved, than she had any right to be. She would never agree with him, but he thought she was perfect. It wasn’t about her looks, though he did consider himself lucky to be enjoying the view. It was her spirit, her soul. He thought the world of Sadie and was damn grateful she considered him a friend…True, he admitted to hoping for more, but he couldn’t expect her to take that seriously.

Which is why it took him by surprise as her lips made their way to his. It started off small and timid, but soon she was a woman possessed. His body matched her yearning intensity. He hadn’t felt a high like this since he started using. He let his hands roam and gripped her in a tight embrace.

It took his brain longer to react. This couldn’t be happening. Sadie was always affectionate, but the way she was kissing him so fervently, only happened in his hallucinations.

She shifted her weight and straddled his lap. This can’t be real...don’t act, just think… for once be the one with some damn sense. With a godlike amount of restraint, he abruptly broke off the kiss and left them both gasping for air. “Sadie, I’m gonna be real mad if this turns out to be one big Jet flashback.” he laughed nervously and tried to deflect with a joke, “Don’t get me wrong, this feels better than the chems,” he smirked, “Okay…maybe eighty percent as good-“

“Shut up, you cocky bastard,” she went to kiss him again, but he held her at bay. He wasn’t sure how to proceed.

He rested his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t…” he murmured, eyes cast down. He swallowed hard. He had been thinking, dreaming, of moments like this since he started travelling with her, hell, since she stepped into Goodneighbor. A disarray of emotions flooded him. He wanted to hold her closer, tell her how he truly felt, of how petrified he was of losing her…He should say no, tell her he wasn’t good enough, say he didn’t deserve her. Before he could decide what to say, he heard her whimper, “I don’t understand- I thought…”

He finally turned his gaze towards her. There was disappointment in her eyes. All of the burning energy she had shown just moments ago, now fading. She thought she knew how he felt. It was always implied, but never spoken. For reasons unknown, he was rejecting her. She needed to feel something, anything. She reached for him again. “We might not get another chance…” she said softly, tears coming to her eyes again.

“Sadie,” his tone was harsher than he intended. With emotions running high, all the talk of her dead husband, and the possibility of this being her last night on earth, he had to make sure he wasn’t just a convenience. “C’mon…you don’t want your last night to be like this…Believe me, I want to…but this…it’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not,” she said defiantly, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “It doesn’t have to be…thought you weren’t the ponderous type? Damn it, we care about each other, right?” her voice cracked.

Hancock’s eye went wide. This wasn’t just in his head. He hadn’t been reading into things. He wasn’t just a warm body, she genuinely had feelings for him. He didn’t know what he could have possibly done to be this lucky. He started to feel his resolve melt away. She was right, an instinct took hold, and he should listen. He cupped her face in his hands and wiped a tear from her cheek. He smiled softly, “Damn right we do, Sunshine. I haven’t felt like this in a long time…” he sighed, “But you sure you want someone like me?”

Sadie searched his earnest expression. He still didn’t understand how much he meant to her. She planted a tender kiss on his lips. He didn’t pull away this time. “John…” she used his name in a hushed whisper that sent chills down his spine, “Of course I do…I have wanted this for a long time.” He looked at her, dumbfounded, as if she were a dream, “You’re serious aren’t you?” She bit her lip and gave him a pleading look, “Neither of us are good at expressing ourselves, but…I’m trusting you on this, should I?” He grinned ear to mangled ear as he snaked his arms around her, “I ain’t got an escape route planned, if that’s what you’re askin’…Right now, this is exactly where I want to be.” He pulled her into a searing kiss.

Their fears for the future, their worries about the past, the things they couldn’t say to each other, all dissolved in this moment. Tomorrow be damned, tonight was theirs.

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Holy shit, I’m not dead! This just took a hell of a lot longer than I thought to get it to where I wanted it to be. Hope you guys out there enjoy it! Always up for prompts, headcanons, or whatever else you throw my way!