#when he started singing i could have sworn i was hallucinating

[davishater]

English server, how we feelin'?

[inkmemes]

ryan  ross  lyric sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  various  songs  he’s  written,  lyrics  he’s  sung,  &  poetry  he’s  penned.  trigger  warnings  for  mentions  of  sex,  cheating,  drugs.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

--

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

--

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

--

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

--

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

--

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

--

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

--

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

--

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

--

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

--

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

[amintyworld]

It’s a Wonderful Life, Tommy - Dream SMP Holiday Oneshot

A/N: So this started as an imagine that I wanted to do a bullet fic for, but I got carried away and kind of, sort of, wrote an 11-page fic? So, sorry for the extra setup at the beginning. It’s inspired off two of my favorite Christmas movies: ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘A Christmas Carol’ and I ended up with a pretty good even blend of the two, and I’m pretty proud of this. Here’s my Christmas gift to the fandom, I hope you enjoy! So, grab your hot cocoa and Christmas cookies, settle into a blanket and enjoy this holiday tale. -Minty

Summary: After a nasty fight with Tubbo combined with Tommy’s worsening depression, its Tommy’s final straw as he decides he’s ready to give up. But, it looks like Tommy’s condition and situation has gotten some supernatural attention.

TW: Suicide attempt, talks of suicide, heavy blood and gore, manipulation and blame, major character deaths(?), insanity. (Please tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Imagine it’s Christmas Eve but he didn’t end up going with Technoblade and he’s still alone. He’s still as depressed as ever, and on top of all of that, he had an argument when Tubbo tried to visit that ended worse than anything Tommy ever imagined. 

Tommy’s trying his best to enjoy the holiday and ends up wandering around, stumbling upon Technoblade’s house - where Ghostbur and Techno are both singing carols while decorating a tree. Tommy’s heart aches with loneliness as he quickly leaves before anyone could see him through the window. No one had left him any presents (Dream burned them all secretly) and he kept looking over Dream’s gift - a white porcelain mask with eyes and no mouth, like Dream’s. Dream claimed in his note that things were getting dangerous and it was to keep him safe and hide his identity. Something about it felt off, though. 

He didn’t want to assume the worst of his friend, but it seemed more like a gift Dream wanted him to have instead of something he wanted. That’s why after a while of just holding it and tracing over the details with his fingers he put it away in his chest. He climbed his tower again and was getting ready to aim for the top of a tree, done with everything - with trying to hope when everything he ever had, his friends and family, were gone. He kept searching for a point to his suffering and found none, so he decided to finally end things for good.

A voice called out to him. It was Phil.

“It’s not really the season for giving up hope, now is it?”

Tommy was of course startled, as a floating spirit in the form of what looks like Philza, his dad, flying and floating in front of him... with wings? Tommy is trying to compose himself while trying to discern whether or not his ‘thing’ is real - touching his shoulder only to touch absolutely nothing, yelling at it to see if it’s a demon, while the spirit is nonetheless, unimpressed. “What are you? Are you really Phil, or am i just... hallucinating again?”

“I am quite real - you can call me your guide of sorts. I’ve taken the form of your loved one to make you feel more at ease. Anyway, Tommyinnit, I’m sent here to stop you from jumping from this pillar.”

“Why exactly should I listen to you? For all I know, you’re just another weird vision like Tubbo was. I’m really tired of my messed up mind, just go away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Tommy. It’s my sworn duty to step in here, for your behalf.”

“My behalf?! I assure you, whoever you are, I’d be happier dead than to live without anyone who really cares about me.”

“How about a deal then? I will show you three places, events, and if I can’t change your mind, I’ll leave you alone.”

“No lying?”

“Why would I?”

“Okay, sure.” Tommy still didn’t think any of this was real, but he was honestly curious where this weird dream was going. The Guide took Tommy’s hand and told him to trust him, and they both jumped, Tommy yelling, confused, as he fell, fell, fell, preparing for impact and probably death, instead of falling into... snow?

He shivered and looked around - how is the sun up, it was the night a few seconds ago...? The Guide took his hand with a comforting smile and led him through the trees when Tommy froze in his tracks. A house... he KNEW that house. “Look familiar?”

Shouts nearby made his head whip around as a snowball raced toward him. He braced for impact, but it didn’t hit him. Instead, it hit a tree trunk behind him. Laughter filled the air as he heard a familiar voice behind him yell. “HA, your aim is shit, Tommy!” He saw a young version of Technoblade rush through the bushes, and... that was him... a young version of him in the trees, snowball in hand, angry at his missed shot. 

“Yeah, well I still have the high ground, you arsehole!” He noticed a young Tubbo next to him, a snowball in each hand wearing a green coat that was way too big for him. He laughed, remembering it - Phil didn’t have money for a new coat for Tubbo that year, so he gave him his older one to use, and the poor kid kept falling over and tripping on it. Tubbo handed Tommy another snowball as they both pelted the snowballs down as Techno rushed into some cover behind a rock. 

“This is Christmas by the lake, where Phil grew up. But, how can I see it, that was over six years ago-?” Tommy turned to the guide who showed him who his whole body turned translucent. 

“In order to show you events, we must travel to that point in time, but we’ll only be observers, we can’t interact with them.”

Tommy looked over as Technoblade pelted Tommy with a snowball hard, making him lose his balance and fall to the snowy ground below. “This is unreal, it’s so clear, how can I recall this in a dream...?”

“I told you, I am a spirit Tommy, your Guide.” Looking around at it all, Tommy couldn’t help but to start to believe him. The smell of gingerbread filled his nose from the house as Wilbur walked out, his hands in the air.

“Okay guys, Phil told me to tell you to come inside-” Before his older brother could even finish his sentence, three snowballs hit him square in the face. “Hey, I’m not even playing!”

“You’re in the kill zone, Wil!” Tubbo shouted from the treetops as if that would explain everything.

“Ugh, why are you all so annoying-”

Techno smirked, looking over at his brother from his spot covered by the rock. “Aw, come on, don’t be a buzzkill Wilby.” Wilbur stopped at the nickname and turned with a fire in his eyes.

“I’ll show you buzzkill-!” He shouted as he threw a snowball at Techno, running for his own cover.

“Look at you, surrounded by your family, your best friend - it seems like you all love each other a lot.”

“Well, of course, we’re family.” Tommy paused, realizing what he said and quickly correcting himself. “At least, we were.” He watched the scene unfold - Philza called them in for cookies and cocoa and they all rushed into the house. While running, Tubbo tripped on his coat and fell again, and Tommy saw himself stay back and help Tubbo to his feet with a smile.

“I bet Tubbo appreciated your friendship, especially then.”

“Well, I knew what it was like to be the new kid in the family, you know? It’s awkward and weird at first to settle into. You’re by yourself for so long it’s hard to get used to being around people all the time who give you so much affection.” He walked over toward the window and looked inside - Phil put on some Christmas music that blasted through the player and Techno covered his ears, begging for something different, making everyone laugh. Wilbur pulled out his guitar as Technoblade practically slammed the ‘stop’ button on the player.

“All of you look close.”

“We are- were,” Tommy said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, none of this does - even if they cared for me and loved me then, doesn’t mean they do now.”  

“I thought you said family loved each other no matter what.” The Guide said smoothly. “Why would it make sense for them to stop loving you now?”

“I don’t know...” Tommy breathed, his mind confused and questioning. “Maybe we’re not family. Maybe we... maybe we never were. Anyways, you’ve shown me enough of this to count for the deal, let’s just move on.”

“Hold on, we’re gonna miss my favorite part.” The Guide said as Philza came in with a Santa hat.

“As per tradition in the Sleepy Boys Incorporated Household, me - the Grand Master - shall decide who gets to receive an extra special gift to open before Christmas Day.” Wilbur bounced excitedly on the couch, and Tommy crossed his fingers as they waited. “I have tallied the points-”

“I still think there’s no point system-” Technoblade mumbled as Philza continued.

“And this year, the wearer of the special Santa hat goes to... Tommy!” Phil said as he tossed it over to the boy, who smiled widely. “For your extra help around the house and chores, this year’s for you, buddy.”

“Yay, Tommy!” Wilbur said from the couch as Technoblade smiled and nodded in approval. Tubbo clapped and cheered - this was the first year Tommy had ever been given the hat. Outside the window, Tommy crossed his arms and looked at the snow, knowing what was going to happen next. Young Tommy smiled wide as he clutched the Santa hat in his hands. He looked over to Tubbo for a moment, then to the hat, unknown thoughts in his head. Then, he handed it out to Tubbo. 

“Here. You can have it.”

Tubbo looked confused. “But Tommy, you worked so hard for this - you did extra chores, you helped out Wilbur when his beanie got stuck in the tree... you didn’t curse for an entire week!”

“I know.” He smiled, turning into a smirk. “But, you know, if it was that easy for me to get it this year, I can always get it again. And, since it was harder for you, if I don’t give you the hat now, you probably won’t get it until you’re Phil’s age.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Philza shouted as he carried in a large gift-wrapped box to set on the table.

“But Tommy-” Tubbo tried to interject, but Tommy threw him the hat.

“Come on, I insist,” Tommy said, and the two best friends hugged each other tightly. Outside, Tommy looked at the scene, pressing his hand up against the glass, his heart aching uncomfortably, not being able to tear his eyes away from the tender moment. He turned to the spirit, emotion, and anger on his face.

“Tubbo exiled me, he burned his compass, he didn’t show up to my beach party, he didn’t even come to see me.” His eyes looked cold. “He’s NOT my best friend, let alone my friend!”

The spirit looked calm. “I see.” He slowly turned and began to walk away into the forest swiftly, leaving Tommy scrambling to catch up. 

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

“Spirit... Guide... whatever you are, wait up!” Tommy shouted as he sprinted after the figure through the trees, suddenly being caught by his shirt before he fell into the water. He looked around and noticed he was in L’manburg - the moon just how he left it when the spirit took him to the past. He noticed the Chinese lanterns, the dock, the houses - it wasn’t just L’manburg, it was New L’manburg. The spirit walked up the steps silently and Tommy was quick to follow. “We’re in the present, in L’manburg, but why?”

“I thought you’d be curious to see how your former friend is celebrating tonight - a look without the trouble of trying to hide or break the rules.” The spirit said simply, before holding out his hand for Tommy to take. “Hold on tightly, please.” Tommy gripped the spirit’s hand as he was dragged through a few walls, freaking out a bit until he realized that he was in the same state as a ghost, or like the spirit called it, an observer - so he couldn’t suffocate.

Whatever Tommy was expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. A room filled with torn posters of Technoblade pasted along the walls calling him all sorts of bad things, and a wooden table in the center with four people sitting around it, Tubbo among them. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea anymore, Big Q. With what Dream’s done to Tommy, what if he gets caught in all this?”

Quackity looked upset, his eyes narrowed. “Tubbo, this is our one and only chance to get revenge for our country, and you’re saying to stop all of our work for the small chance, chance that Tommy will show up?”

“He’s a L’manburg citizen, Quackity. As president, it’s my job to protect every citizen-”

“You’d sacrifice the country, Mr. President, everything we’ve worked for, for one person?!” Quackity snapped. Tommy looked on with piqued interest, noticing how both Ranboo and Fundy sunk down a bit on their chairs from the building tension in the room. Tubbo got up and leaned in so he and Quackity’s faces were inches apart. 

“Yes, I would. I’m not going to be responsible for anyone becoming a ghost on my account, Quackity.” Tubbo snapped. “I draw the line at risking innocent lives.”

Tommy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even after they yelled at each other, screamed at each other, he... he still... cares?

“I’m questioning your true loyalty to your country, Mr. President - it seems your loyalties lie elsewhere. What kind of President wouldn’t be willing to do anything, make any sacrifice, for the betterment of the country?”

“One like Schlatt. Wilbur maybe. But not me.”

“Then, Mr. President, you’re nothing but a traitor.” Quackity said, pulling out his sword and pointing it at Tubbo. “I’m taking you under arrest.” Tubbo slowly put his hands up, looking over to Fundy and Ranboo, who both looked distraught and stayed silent. 

“Quackity, you’re insane. You’re going to destroy L’manburg to kill Techno and Dream, you’re going to destroy everything we’ve worked to save.” Tubbo protested, but his cries fell on deaf ears as Quackity forced him to give him his stuff and armor.

Tommy’s mind whirred. “Tubbo still cares about me. Even after everything, he’s still my friend.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I...I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a shame you don’t think the same of him.”

Tommy was quick to respond. “I do, I have, it’s just he’s done so much against me - he burned the compass, he didn’t show up to the beach party-”

Tommy looked over just in time to see Quackity close the jail cell loudly - there was barely enough room for Tubbo to sit or even stand. Tubbo’s hands clutched the bars. “Quackity, don’t do this. Do you even understand what Dream and Techno are capable of?!”

Quackity glared at him. “Of course I do, which is why I need to dispose of them since our leader is too much of a coward to do it himself. Come on guys, we have a festival to prepare for.” Fundy and Ranboo were silent as they passed him, bowing their heads in shame. Tommy walked closer with the spirit to see him pull out...the compass...

The enchanted compass, the matching one to the one Tommy had in his own chest. The one Dream said he burned. That didn’t make any sense, Dream said he- Dream. “Are you tricking me?”

“Why would I do that, Tommy? We made a deal.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, Tubbo shouldn’t have the compass, it’s supposed to be burned!”

“Ah. Maybe that was the claim that led you astray?”

Tommy silently looked down at Tubbo as he held the compass in his hands, tears welling up in Tubbo’s eyes. “Guess you were right, Tommy. I’m so sorry…” Tommy had no words, thoughts running through his head. This didn’t make any sense. Dream wouldn’t lie to him, he’s his friend. Even so, emotion welled up in his eyes as his stomach formed in knots. 

“Dream wouldn’t lie to me. Stop trying to trick me, I know this isn’t real.”

“But I promised you I’d only show the truth, didn’t I?”

“But this can’t be true - Tubbo’s compass is supposed to be burned, he’s not supposed to cry for me, he's supposed to hate me, they’re all supposed to hate me!”

“What if they don’t, Tommy, and they never have?”

“Even if they didn’t...even if they cared, I’ve caused too much trouble - all of this started because of me. So, wouldn’t it be better if I was gone?” The spirit held out his hand to Tommy.

“Do you want to find out?”

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

After a few moments of hesitation, Tommy took the Spirit’s hand, and quickly was dragged upwards through the wall, into darkness, the spirit’s wings taking them up, up, up, and suddenly… he found himself on the ground. Thunder rolled in his ears as a light shower of rain began to fall toward the ground. He was on a mountain, and his hands gripped the soggy grass between his fingers, feeling the realness of it all. He looked around for his winged spirit but found no one. L’manburg stood around him, and he walked down the dock, noticing a crowd of people gathered around a memorial of sorts.

Curious, he crept closer. Who’s memorial was it? It looked nice too - a small stone cover from the rain, vines and flowers growing all around it. He started to worry - did his death cause someone else’s? He looked over at the crowd - he noticed Skeppy holding Bad close as he cried, and there was Puffy and Ant, who looked dazed by it all, their faces solemn. Oh, over there was Quackity - he crossed his arms and looked to the floor. Fundy sat next to George and Sapnap - his eyebrows furrowed in thought. George held Sapnap’s hand in comfort as tears slid down their cheeks every now and then. Punz and Ponk were in the back.. Oh, there was Ranboo!

His half-enderman friend was shaking, as Ghostbur stood at his side and did his best to comfort him, though even Tommy could tell the ghost was more than distraught over it all. Tommy walked closer… wait, was that Technoblade?! What was he doing here…? Isn’t he wanted in L’manburg? Even more surprising, was the tear staining glisten in his eyes - Technoblade was crying.  It was an odd sight indeed to see his tough friend weep, but Philza was at his side to pull him close, tears rolling down his cheeks as well. 

“He was a hero for L’manburg, and made numerous sacrifices for our country. More than that, he was an uncle, a son, a brother, and a friend to many who knew him.” There was Tubbo, speaking at the podium looking the saddest Tommy had ever seen him. His hands gripped the wood tightly as he shook slightly. “Though he was not with us for long, I think it’s clear to see when I look around this room he touched more lives than he knew. He was brave, strong, and an inspiration to many as someone who encompassed the true values of our nation.. He may be gone, but will always live on in our memories and in our hearts.”

Tommy’s heart dropped as he read the sign: ‘Tommyinnit, joined July 2020, died December 2020. A friend taken too soon.’ This was his memorial, all of them were here… this was HIS funeral! He noticed how Tubbo’s shaking grew more noticable as tears streamed from his eyes that left drops where his speech was prepared. Philza walked up and they both hugged each other tightly, Phil rubbing his back as Tubbo let out a sob and the two walked back to sit with the rest. 

Slowly, one by one people began to walk up to a buried spot on the ground - his green bandana  was tied tightly to the side as it waved in the wind like a flag.  He watched as Ghostbur walked up and left some blue flowers at his grave. “I hope you’re happier, wherever you are. Here’s some blue - I got extra so you won’t run out.” Tommy’s eyes threatened to spill with tears as Ghostbur put a hand on his gravestone. “Both Alivebur and I love you very much, and we’ll miss you a lot, but don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine! I’ll try to take care of Tubbo for you, okay?”

“Okay..” Tommy choked out as a tear slid down his cheek. Ranboo walked up to sit next to Ghostbur, silent. Ghostbur gave him a hug, which he returned before Ghostbur left, walking back into the crowd of people talking. 

“I really should have noticed it sooner, shouldn’t I?” Ranboo said. “I should’ve been there more, did more, did anything… but I… I’m so sorry, Tommy.” His hands were shaking as they reached out toward the gravestone but stopped short of touching it. “You did so much for me, you protected me, and I… I couldn’t even do the same for you. I’m a pretty bad friend, aren’t I?”

“No, no.” Though Ranboo couldn’t hear him or see him, Tommy put his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder as he tried his best not to try, sniffling. “You were the best friend I could ever ask for. You were there for me whenever I needed you. This isn’t your fault.”

Both heard steps behind them and turned to notice Techoblade standing there, no clear emotion in his face. Ranboo quickly left, intimidated by the pig hybrid as he disappeared back into the crowd. Technoblade took his crown off as he approached, kneeling in front of the gravestone, silent for a few moments. “I wish we were closer. I wish I would’ve been there to help you before it was too late. I… I wish you knew how much I loved you, but I guess we’re both too similar when it comes to admitting something like that, huh?” Technoblade smiled a bit before it quickly fell. “I know I didn’t agree with your choices, but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t help you, I should’ve let you know that.” Tommy stood, stunned at Technoblade’s words - that he loved him, that he’d miss him. Techno pulled out a folded cloth. “I was going to give you it for Christmas, but Dream had other plans. I’m sorry, it’s the only present I saved from the lava.” Technoblade set it down next to the flowers. “It’s a cape like mine, see? Wilbur kept telling me how cold you were in exile. Partly it was because of that, the other part was because I was too annoyed when you kept trying to steal mine-” Technoblade sniffled, a few tears going down his cheeks that landed in the dirt below. Philza walked up and gave him a tight hug.

“Shh, Techno. It’s okay. I know he would’ve loved it.” Philza said, comforting his eldest. “Now go talk to Ghostbur and make sure he doesn’t wander off with Friend.” Techno just nodded, taking one last look at the grave and placing his hand on the stone, turning and walking off. 

Philza was by far the quietest one of all, running his fingers over the soft green bandana and the top of the gravestone. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he took out a small photo in his pocket. It was an old Christmas photo from so long ago - Technoblade had Tommy up on his shoulders, Wilbur was standing at attention in a salute, holding back a laugh as Tubbo chased his scarf, Philza taking a sort of selfie with the camera, the chaos showing in the background. He wedged it in Technoblade’s cloak. “Here, don’t forget us - the good parts of us.” Philza said softly. “Don’t forget that we’ll always love you, no matter what.” Philza wiped away a few tears from his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever know why you did this, and I don’t think I’ll ever really know. I’m sorry I wasn’t a good father to you, and I hope you’re at peace wherever you are.” Philza took a deep breath getting ready to leave when a loud crash interrupted him. 

Tommy, still trying to compose himself and wipe away his tears from his family and friend’s sentiments, looked up in surprise to see Tubbo pissed off, being held back by Technoblade and Puffy, Ghostbur trying to calm him down. Dream got up from his place on the ground, a large crack forming on his white mask. Tubbo yelled, shouted and kicked. “He doesn’t GET to be here, he’s lucky I don’t kill him right now! He’s the one who killed him, he doesn’t get to go near him again!”

Ghostbur looked nervous when Tubbo smacked the blue he offered out of his hand. “Tubbo calm yourself, please, for Tommy-!”

“I didn’t push him off that tower, did I, Tubbo?” Dream’s words were sharp and calm, traced with anger. Everyone fell silent, as Dream approached the President. “I didn’t do anything, if anything, he died because of all of you - you could have stopped me, you could have visited, and you did nothing-”

Without hesitation, Tubbo decked him across the face, his mask flying toward the ground, and suddenly blonde messy hair and piercing green eyes started down at him. “You told him lies, you manipulated him, you made him think he was alone. We may have not done much, even if we knew what you were doing, but at least we didn’t drive him into that depression, Dream. That’s all on you, and you fucking know it.” Tubbo pointed a finger at his chest. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here after everything you did to him. I don’t want you here and I know that he sure as well wouldn’t either.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “So you either leave or we’re settling this right here, right now.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. President?” Dream smirked. “Not a very wise decision - I’ve beaten you before, I’ve taken everything away from you and watched you beg for mercy.”

“That’s what you don’t understand, Dream.” Tubbo said. “You’ve taken so much away from me I have nothing left to lose.” Dream pulled out his sword but a heavy smack from Tubbo sent it to the floor. “You underestimate just how far I’m willing to go, Dream. You think you’ve seen me upset, seen me angry? You haven’t seen even a fraction of it. I will stop at nothing for Tommy - I don’t even care if you kill me, all I care about is that you’re going down with me.” For the first time in his life, fear flew across Dream’s face.

“Tubbo. Leave Dream alone, he’s not worth it.” Philza said as he turned Tubbo away from Dream and glared down at him. “Just get out of here, Dream.”

“Tubbo never really was the same again after you left.” The guiding spirit turned Tommy’s attention to the side, where he sat at the top of the dome memorial. “You mean a lot to him, and losing you after L’manburg fell to Dream, it was the last straw.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Dream owns L’manburg?! That’s impossible, Tubbo would never allow that to happen.”

“He didn’t.” The spirit replied. “Quackity led the charge against Dream and failed, nearly destroying the nation again before legally surrendering it to Dream. Ranboo was going to let Tubbo out of his cell to help, but when he didn’t hear from you he decided to check on you instead and found your body. As always, Dream traded Quackity L’manburg for something he wanted more than anything - the power to revive Schlatt.”

“Revive Schlatt?!” Tommy’s eyes widened. “Dream knew how to do it all along. So why didn’t he revive Wilbur…?”

“It wasn’t of use to him.” The spirit said. “When you died, L’manburg died with you. Philza fell into a deep depression after losing two of his sons to his own hands, and Technoblade… he went mad.”

“Technoblade went crazy…?!”

The spirit pointed around the corner as they jumped once again, landing on the dock as screams of agony echoed throughout the country. Tommy looked around in disbelief as red blood splattered the ground. He noticed Niki run past him toward the bridge, terrified. A dark shadow passed overhead and Technoblade landed in front of her with a wide smile and crazy eyes. “Where are you going, Niki…?”

“N-nowhere, I was just going to go fishing…”

“Really…? If I knew any better, I would have thought you were trying to leave.” Techno’s eyes narrowed. “You know how Dream feels about people breaking his rules.”

“Technoblade, I’m sorry, please… I promise, I won’t come near the docks ever again-!” Niki pleaded as Techno’s laugh echoed through the walls, turning into… crying? Technoblade sobbed as he leaned on his trident as a sort of staff. Niki approached, sympathetic.

“I want him back, Niki. I just want him back.” Technoblade said. “I’d do anything for him, any goddamn thing…” The crying stopped as Techno looked up, eyes full of anger. “Even if that means ripping the guts out of some lying two-faced bitch who didn’t care enough to save him. Come here you little-!” He charged at Niki, and she took off again, screaming, crying for help.

“N-no… Technoblade stop-!” Tommy cried, but Techno didn’t hear him as he snatched her up and beheaded her in one rip, sending blood everywhere. Niki’s painful screams filled his ears.

“Tubbo managed to take Dream down, and they both died in one of his death traps. Now, thanks to his manipulation, Technoblade is a bloodthirsty warrior with no master to serve. He clings to the bit of sanity he has left, not being able to deal with the guilt of being responsible for your death, so he blames others.”

“This can’t be true. Surely if I died some good would come from it.” Tommy said.

“The only good that would come of your death would be Dream’s, who thanks to Tubbo died much earlier than he was supposed to, and in turn saved his people from another tyrannical ruler.” The spirit said. “As for Ghostbur, well…”

Tommy turned around to notice Ghostbur flying around, wondering in the bloody mess of L’manburg that was too eerily quiet for Tommy’s liking. The spirit was gone again, Tommy was alone. He followed Ghostbur as he stepped over dead bodies and looked inside houses. “Hey Technoblade?” Ghostbur called, looking around. “Hey Techno, I have a fun idea to prank Tubbo with, where are you?” He opened the door to Philza’s house. “Philza? Philza Minecraft?!” He called. “I can’t find Techno, do you know where he… oh, you’re not here either.” He knocked, door to door, calling out for everyone, but it was dead silent. “Quackity?! Niki…? Fundy, where are you?!”

Tommy reached to grab Ghostbur’s hand. “They’re not here, Wil. They’re dead.” But Ghostbur didn’t notice him in the slightest.

“Tubbo?! Fundy…?”

“Ghostbur, they’re dead. You gotta stop, they’re not here.” Tommy said solemnly. “They’re dead because of me, but you gotta stop looking, they’re gone-”

“Sapnap? Bad…?”

“Wilbur please.” Tommy begged. “They’re dead, you have to move on.”

“George…?”

“They’re dead, WIlbur.” Tommy snapped, beginning to cry. He looked around for his spirit friend. “Spirit, can you hear me? I want to go back, please let me go back. I don’t want this to happen, please! Can I change it? Is there still time?! I want to live!”

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

When he opened his eyes, he was in his bed in the tent, the morning sun just peaking above the horizon. He wiped a few tears off his cheeks. Was it all a dream… was it not real…? He scrambled for his calendar - Christmas Day. There’s still time. He could fix everything! He searched in his chest for the compass and his discs as he packed a bag - he looked over the mask for a second, before rushing outside and in a fit of rage, frisbees it into the ocean and watched it sink to the bottom. “Fuck you, Dream.” He cursed, feeling freer than he had in weeks. 

He grabbed his bag and ran off into the forest toward the snow covered house he knew, picking up some blue cornflowers along the way. His heart felt light as he hummed Christmas carols, running along the path he knew until he saw Technoblade’s house in the distance. Running up to the door, he knocked, smiling. The house was decorated beautifully, and when Ghostbur opened the door he smiled. “Hello, Tommy!”

“Hey Ghostbur!” Tommy smiled. “Sorry it’s a bit early, but I just couldn’t wait to come over and say Merry Christmas!” Technoblade came over to the door, looking extremely confused. 

“Tommy…?” Technoblade yawned before Tommy crashed into him with a hug, only making the older increasingly confused. “Um-”

“Merry Christmas, Technobade.” Tommy said happily, handing out the blue flowers to Ghostbur, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. “This is for you.”

“So much blue!” Ghostbur shook with excitement, taking the flowers in his hands. “They’re so pretty, thanks Tommy!”

“You’re welcome.” Tommy said, feeling a sense of dejia vu from it all. Technoblade smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wanna come inside? I was just about to make breakfast.” Technoblade’s voice was gentle, and for the first time in a long while Tommy felt really happy. Techno ushered him inside by the fire, insisting that he was turning blue out in the snow without a jacket. Ghostbur realized too quickly that Techno didn’t have a vase for the flowers, but with a bit of help from Tommy, he was beginning to weave a flower crown. It was nice to revisit that - he remembered how Philza taught them all how to weave flowercrowns when they were younger, and how to make an acorn whistle, which he quickly regretted. Tommy laughed as he remembered Phil’s face as all three of them whistled all the way home so loud they scared away any animals within a 100 mile radius, for sure.

Techboblade was quiet but content, relaxed, and happy. After a nice breakfast of eggs and toast - the first good breakfast Tommy had in ages, which he finished in record time - Wilbur stood under the tree to open gifts excitedly like he was a child again. As they all settled in, a quick knock on Technoblade’s door interrupted them. “Hello- Oh… hey Phil.”

To his surprise, Tommy and Wilbur couldn’t see their dad at all behind the large pile of wrapped boxes in his hands. His breaths were labored as he spoke. “I hope I’m not late-”

“No, no. In fact, you’re just on time.”

“I was looking for Tommy’s house everywhere and then I realized I went the wrong way, and then he wasn’t there-” Philza began, walking in as he noticed Tommy sitting on the floor. “Well, there you are.”

“Here I am.” Tommy said with a sheepish smile. “Do you need help with that?”

“Please.”

After all of Phil’s gifts were added to the growing collection under the tree, his father pulled Tommy in for a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re here. Christmas wouldn’t be the same with you, you know.”

“I’m glad you didn’t forget me.” Tommy admitted softly, and Phil squeezed around his middle a little tighter.

“Never.” Philza whispered in response, making the younger tear up a bit at the words in joy. When they both pulled away Tommy wiped his eyes, not being able to help his bright smile. “Alright, we’ve got some presents to open, don’t we?”

“We may have to do mine first, I didn't have much time to wrap-” Tommy said as he grabbed his bag and searched. Wilbur proudly showed off his Blue flower crown with glee, making the other two smile at his child-like cheer. Technoblade stilled as Tommy held out a diamond for him. “I’m sorry, I was in a bit of a hurry, I know you have netherite, if you don’t want it-”

“I love it, Tommy.” Technoblade said as he took the diamond and held it in his hands. “It means a lot to me you’d give me it. Thank you.” The two shared a smile before Techno’s face turned into a smirk. “Plus, you’re poor, it was the best you could do, anyway-”

And, as Philza admired and thanked Tommy for the stone sword, Tommy couldn’t help but notice a figure in the window, a figure he thought he’d never see again. His Guardian Spirit, looking inside from the window at the scene with a warm smile. As the spirit looked inside the joyful house, Tommy could distinctly recall a voice in his head echoing words that he’d never forget.

“It’s a wonderful life, isn’t it Tommy?”

[honeypirate]

Denki x reader pro hero au

Warning - angst!, talks about smoking weed just barely, reader gets bit by a villain and gets very badly poisoned that as it eats through their body takes them on fever dreams. Denki beats the villain before he finds reader I just didn’t know how to write it lolol

The stars danced in the sky, floating around like they were little fairy sprites dancing and spreading their magic across the world. The moon was bright, lighting up the few clouds around her in the sky, you could have sworn the clouds were neon colors, reflecting like the northern lights but that was impossible.. you blamed the villains quirk, a poison that was currently flooding your body through the bite wound to your thigh.

The thought of magic had your thoughts running off towards the way Denki’s eyes would shine when he would see you, little electric sparks running through the tips of his hair in excitement before he would sweep you up into a hug. If anyone was magic in this world it was him, you should have told him that.

The yellow electricity sparking through the air went well with the glowing hallucinations in the sky and until your eyes found his face you thought it was part of the vision.

His eyes are worried, his lips moving but you hear nothing, just the sounds of cicadas in the trees which was impossible since you were in the inner city. You find the energy to reach for him and he takes your hand quickly, you think you hear him say your name but you aren’t quite sure with the little fairy sprites that start to fall from his lips.

Your thoughts are hard to control, it’s hard to focus when the poison slowly takes over all of your senses. You’re dragged from one scenario to the next, remembering and watching different events in your life play out again like a movie. You weren’t sure if you were alive or dead, if you were awake or asleep, and where was Denki?

It all feels so real, if it wasnt for the pressure against your palm of him holding your hand that grounded you as the visions took over.

Youre 7 and your quirk has manifested, a strong combination of your parents quirks, flight from your mother and strong ghost like tentacles from your father that you could pull from your body like extra limbs. Your parents found you hanging upside down in your room with a tentacle holding a different toy as you giggled.

The world was always magical to you, you felt like you never could get enough of it, always fascinated by every tree and rock, it was so beautiful to you. Everything was a gift and the world had so much to offer, every time you left the house you found more reasons to believe in magic. A butterfly landing on your head, a cat that hates everyone but loves to rub against your legs, singing with the wind and having it wrap around you like it was a friend. All of these amazing things that most would look over made your world so much more magical.

The colors of your vision change and turn into the entrance exam for UA, the first day you met Kaminari. He had watched as your back was to the fight, your eyes watching the clouds as you smiled, using your tentacles to fight for you as you floated fifty feet above ground. You were so dazling that Kaminari was almost toast but your tentacle saved him and when he looked back up to you, your eyes were on him and you were smiling so bright he had to know you.

The vision changed to Kaminari stuttering through his words trying to talk to you and thank you for your help, he was so adorable you couldn’t help but hug him with a laugh “of course we should be friends!” you had said and he felt his brain go liquidy.

You’re 22 on your apartment balcony, smoking a joint he brought over after a hard day. You both needed it. That was the first time you held his hand, the first time you cuddled on your couch both needing the comfort.

This is when the colors start to make little sense to you. They swirl into darker muted versions of northern lights and then you’re sitting at a table in a living room that you don’t recognize but feel like you know it. A man is sitting across from you and smiling so softly your heart melts. Denki? It feels like him but it doesn’t look like him.

Another man smiling at you except now you’re on a walk beside a river you’ve never seen before, the setting sun coloring the sky with the colors of your vision as the man takes your hand. He’s dressed in clothes you’ve only ever seen in history movies and he’s cupping your cheek and telling you how much he loves you. You know this is Denki too.

Your mind feels like its spinning as the world flashes with bright colors and lights, in the real world Kaminari is screaming for someone, anyone to help! To get the paramedics to you! Anyone with a healing quirk! His hands cupped your cheeks and saw your usually (color) eyes swirling with sparkles of blue yellow and red, he was losing it. His best friend was taken down in the battle and he wasnt there to protect them how can he be called a pro hero when he cant do anything to save you.

The amount of visions you have of different versions of you and Denki seem never ending until it goes back to the one you know. Flour raining down over you both when he added it to the stand mixer as it went full speed and you remember at the time thinking how cute he looked a little messy.

Oh yes, the world was magic. Your world has always been filled with magic and you didn't doubt that it always would be. Oh what a world you were lucky to live in, oh what a man you were lucky to love, a man who’s memories are starting to fade from your mind. Breathing started to become a chore as the colors stopped their swirling, landing on a soft pale yellow and staying there as you walk forward through the vision, jogging, running, sprinting, you had to get back to him. Who was he? The man with the blond hair and kind eyes? Why did you need to reach him again? Everything was fading as the pale yellow seemed to sink into you and take you over, why were you so worried again? You closed your eyes and sighed, letting yourself disolve into the warmth of colors.

“Please” your eyes fluttered open in the vision to darkness as the soft word echoes around in your head, who was speaking? “please y/n” the voice cracks and you feel warm wetness land on your hand, the one you can feel again, a weight and warmth to it as the voice holds it. “y/n stay with me” it calls out and your eyes flutter open to the real world, the world that was your own. “Den?” you ask and a sob falls from his lips “y/n” he says and you reach up to cup his cheek, brushing away his tears “i dont feel so good Den, i think that guy bit me” your voice was soft, head still swimming “it’s going to be okay” he says “its going to be okay, i can see help coming they’re just having a hard time with the destruction. Stay with me okay? You have to”

Your arm starts to shake but before it can fall hes holding your hand to his cheek “Den, this world is full of magic” your voice cracks and your breathing is starting to hurt “dont ever forget about the magic. Promise me” he furrows his brows and a sob chokes through “dont-” he starts but your eyes were so dim he couldn't help but crying out an “i promise”

“My world Den, it was magic. But it was never as bright until i found you” tears flow from your eyes into your hairline filled with the colorful remanence of the poison “my sparky boy” you whisper and a smile barely tugs the corner of your lips as the poison mixes with your memories, muddling what you really wanted to say but you were unable to stop the worlds as the fell from your lips “we will always find each other, we have loved each other in lives before and lives to come, you are mine and i am yours” your eyes flutter closed as they begin to roll up in your head, he cries for you to hang on the sounds of help just down one more block, your eyes flutter open and he can tell how hard youre fighting to be here for as long as possible as you squeeze his hand as tight as possible “Denki, I love you” your hand relaxes and as your eyes close and your hands go limp in his, he feels the magic drain from his world.

[itsamejin]

even so || jimin angst

Summary: Connected by an invisible red thread, Jimin and you were lucky to find each other so early on in your lives. High school sweethearts and soulmates for eternity. It was only until your dream of being a singer shattered your delusions of happiness. Jimin was left lonely and you grew busier as the days went by. Even so, you were still soulmates- shouldn't that be enough?

Genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au, highschool au, idol au

A/N: Imagine Jimin with glasses for this one.

—

When you met Jimin for the first time, it wasn't the breathtaking experience that so many other soulmates claimed to have. In fact, it was quite forgettable. You locked eyes with him on the first day of high school, exchanged contact information, and moved on with your day. You two were only fourteen after all, a strange age to find the love of your life.

Jimin didn't understand the idea of soulmates at all, only knowing that a red string appeared so suddenly, wrapped around his pinky finger, that he had to chase after the other end. He followed its tracks until it led to you. He was elated to see another person clutching the string just as hard as he had, but his expression softened into apprehension after seeing you. He’s never dated before. How was this going to work out?

—

The first date was the most awkward. You were all dressed up while he wore a jacket, T-shirt, and ill-fitting jeans. He thought that you were probably looking down on him, but the way you so genuinely smiled when you first saw him made his heart melt.

You two went out to watch a movie at the mall. It wasn't a very good one and the two of you made no interactions at all, with no pocket money to buy popcorn either. Luckily enough, Jimin had enough coins to play some games with you at the cinema arcade. You were eyeing a particular plushie in the claw machine, a sunflower with a cute little face on it. He spent coin after coin attempting to get it out. When it was down to the last two coins, you asked if you could try.

"I'm not that good though," you muttered.

Not only did you get the sunflower out, you managed to grab the other sunflower next to it. With two plushies in hand, you seemed satisfied. Jimin blushed in absolute embarrassed, ears red and glasses foggy. Chuckling at his uneasiness, you took his wrist and planted one of the sunflowers into his arms.

"This could be our first couple item," you grinned.

Turning you back on him, you walked towards the air hockey table where you proceeded to absolutely obliterate him in that too.

—

Jimin texted you everyday about pretty much anything, even meaningless stuff like running out of toothpaste and not wanting to cut his nails. It was weird broadcasting how his day went to another person, but it felt good to unload his thoughts to someone else besides his video-game addicted friends.

 At the same time, you'd text him all about yourself. How you loved to sing and dance, often breaking out in song during your late night calls.

“Hey stop, your neighbors are gonna complain again,” he laughed as you stomped around your room as you facetimed him.

“Screw my neighbors!” you screamed, continuing to sing your heart out to Twice. He laughed his heart out at your silliness. The shy and reserved Park Jimin had gotten used to having you glued to his side.

—

For Jimin, life never felt more at peace when he was walking you home from school late at night, earphone in one ear while you had the other. The red strings that attached the two of you together would look the most vivid when you were in such close proximity like this.

You walked side by side listening to some indie rock band that Jimin was obsessed with lately. He didn't know if you'd like it, but he smiled at the way you swayed along with the lyrics. He took a look at his right hand, brushing against yours every step he took. He wanted to hold it. Jimin didn't know why this thought just suddenly popped up, but he found himself paying attention to your fingers more than usual. Slowly trying to find a right time to wrap his fingers around yours, you beat him to the chase. You clutched his palm in your own.

"It's been like five minutes, I was wondering what was taking you so long," you teased. Jimin scoffed, his face reddening. The two of you stopped walking, opting to just look at each other instead.

He got more embarrassed as you stared him down with that mischievous smile of yours. You swung his hand around and grabbed his left one. At that point, you were just chuckling at how flustered he looked. He was so fun to tease.

The earbud had disconnected from your ear and you could better hear the music coming from the shop near you. It was playing a pop tune, a song you've heard millions of times on the radio. Without thinking, you started humming and playing around with Jimin's fingers. When the chorus hit, you started singing the actual lyrics. All Jimin could do was stare at how immersed you were in your own singing. He watched as you let go of his hands and started jumping around him, dancing along even if the music had started to fade to the next one. After a few more seconds of public embarrassment, you stopped.

Jimin looked at your face and wondered if it was the right time to kiss you then. Shaking that feeling, he just patted your head and called you stupid. Jimin took your hand in his and put the earbud back in your ear. The rest of the walk home was filled with silent giggles and swinging arms.

--

Filling out a math worksheet, Jimin sat on your bedroom floor as he listened to your guitar playing. He tried to get you to study with him, but you begged for a long-deserved break. The first semester final exams were nearing, but you didn't seem to care all that much. Jimin had the sudden urge to just pull you next to him and force you to at least solve one question. But to his avail, the only thing you'd be caught doing tonight is playing some Girls Generation song in acoustic.

A slight tapping at your door ruined both of your focuses.

"Sweetie, can you turn it down. I have a very important phone call right now," your mother said, peaking her head through the open door.

All you did was nod. Your mother took a look at Jimin and gave a fake smile. He threw one back, but your mom had already slammed the door shut before she could see.

Your parents weren't very welcoming people. When he introduced himself as your soulmate, the reaction that came from the both of them were disbelieving.

Most people in their lifetime would never meet their soulmates. Your parents weren't soulmates and his weren't either. In fact, you two were the only soulmates he knew.

Maybe that's why you two never announced it to the world, afraid of the soulmate skeptics claiming that seeing a red string when your soulmate nearby was just a form of hallucination. But Jimin and you both knew that if anyone were to denounce the love you two had for each other, you wouldn't hesitate to punch that person right in the face.

—

Exam season had ended and a two week break came after. It felt refreshing not being in a school uniform all the time. As you dragged Jimin through the busy streets of a nearby shopping street, you couldn't wait to show him a surprise. The guitar case on your back bounced with every step and Jimin wanted to scold you for bringing your instrument around so carelessly. Abruptly stopping at an open space, Jimin noticed the mic stand, keyboard, and amplifiers that were already set up. You were gonna play that night.

You let go of his hand and set the guitar case on the floor. Unzipping it, you took out a sleek blue electric guitar. It looked brand new.

"Spent my whole allowance saving up for this," you said proudly, holding it up for him to touch. "I'm gonna play it tonight."

Jimin smiled at your enthusiasm.

"You're gonna do amazing," he told you, patting your head.

"Of course! Would you expect anything less?"

Almost out of thin air, your band-mates appeared one by one, cheering you on. One guy went to the keyboard and started playing some random scales. Another set down some buckets and started tapping them with drumsticks. A girl whipped her bass out and started plucking. In some weird way, they all had started to riff off with each other. You finally came in after plugging your instrument into the amp. The electric guitar sounded crisp and he couldn't help but clap along to the beat of the music. Moving the mic to meet your mouth, you had started singing a song so familiar to him. It was the one that he showed you. That one song from the indie band. He broke out into a huge smile and sang along with your beautiful voice. 

Jimin could've sworn that he was the only audience member, but people started to pile up by the dozens. Now, he only seemed like a tiny speck in such a large crowd. Everyone was entranced by your voice. He was so happy for you in that moment, getting the recognition you finally deserved and having so much fun at the same time.

At that moment when you played your little solo, he wondered what he had done in his past life to deserve you. The thought was interrupted, though, when he met eyes with a professional looking man. He had a mustache and was in a full suit and tie. As if taking notes, he typed something down on his phone and took a video of your performance. Jimin clapped along with everyone else, but couldn't take his eyes off of the strange man. In some weird way, he had a bad feeling about him.

—

It was nearing the end of your first year in high school when you got called out of class to meet a man in a black suit and sunglasses. He was a scout from some big name record label. Encouraging you to audition for his company and handing out his contact info, the man left you in the hallway feeling mildly confused. Your home room teacher who pulled you out, looked disapprovingly.

"Being an idol isn't a stress-free job you know? I wished you put as more effort into your studies than that guitar you lug around," Mrs. Kwon said, malice laced in her voice.

She always found a way to make you feel absolutely horrible about your love for music. Clutching the man's business card, you didn't know what to do. Of course you wanted to be a singer. But an idol? That was a whole different type of commitment that required years of training. You didn’t know if you were cut out for that lifestyle. But something in you wanted to prove Mrs. Kwon and even your parents wrong. Shaking your head, you went back to class.

—

"I just don't know if I should do it," you ranted, swaying aggressively on the swing set.

Jimin sat almost perfectly still on his as he listened to you groan on and on about how much you wanted to put Mrs. Kwon in her place.

"Why don't you just audition? I mean, you like singing," he reasoned.

She shook her head.

"But what if I get laughed at? What if I screw it all up and they ban me from ever trying out again!" you whined.

You looked so adorable, puffing up your cheeks and furrowing your brows. He wanted to squish you up right then and there.

"You act like you haven't performed in front of people before," he replied.

You stopped swinging and looked at the ground, digging your shoes into the sand.

"I don't think I'd be good enough," you muttered.

Jimin clutched the chains of the swing set, getting upset with your lack of confidence.

"You know, the happiest I've ever seen you is when you perform," he said, standing up and crouching down in front of you to see your face.

"And I don't think I'll ever meet a person that sings and dances as well as you," he continued.

You blushed and crinkled your nose at him. You were flustered with the way he was looking at you, his glasses slightly foggy. 

"You know, I'm not happiest when I'm singing," you whispered.

Jimin tilted his head, hearing you but not quite.

A little louder you said, "I'm happiest when I'm with you."

And it felt right in that moment to lean into him and kiss his slightly pouted lips. The two of you being inexperienced, there was no movement, but you still felt the magic of it all. After a few seconds of staying still, you took the initiative and curled your fingers around his hair, kissing him a little deeper. Jimin's breath was honestly taken away. He wouldn't have ever imagined his first kiss to be on a children’s swing set in the middle of the night. It felt like a cliche romantic comedy that would play on KBS. You pulled away, breathless.

"You're really pretty," he said after a few seconds of maintaining eye contact.

You chuckled and gave him another peck.

"You are too," you said teasingly. To that, he pretended to shudder and enveloped you in a tight hug.

—

At the age of 16, Jimin could safely say that he was enamored by you. By every movement and every word you spoke, he couldn't help but be infatuated.

You could say the same about him. You loved how smart he sounded when he explained math equations and how eager he was to take you out on dates. It was a literal dream come true of how well the two of you clicked. Although he was more reserved and you were sociable, the connection you two shared was practically unbreakable. Whenever you were nearby he'd toy around with his red string and wonder how lucky he was to find his soulmate when so many people in the world would never have a chance to find their's. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked after he completely zoned out looking into your eyes.

“Nothing,” he blushed. “I just wanted to look at your face.”

You giggled in embarrassment and gave him a quick kiss.

“No time to do that, Ms. Kwon’s gonna kill me if I don’t pass the exam tomorrow,” you said with a strong sense of determination.

He smiled and tucked a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. You sucked at trigonometry. 

—

“I got in Jimin. Oh my god I got in!” you wailed, jumping up and down in his room, clutching your phone.

The record label had emailed you a congratulation letter for making it past the three auditions necessary to join as a trainee. Out of thousands of applicants, you had come out on top. Jimin laughed at your enthusiasm and forced you to sit back down.

“I told you didn’t I? That you’d do amazing? In fact, I think you should probably thank me for being such a supportive boyfriend” he teased.

Lunging at him, you peppered him with kisses around his whole face.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeated, crying tears of joy.

He pulled you into a soft embrace and squeezed you so tightly that it was getting hard for you to breath. He let go briefly.

“Without you I don’t know what I would do,” you cried.

“Without me you’d still be amazing,” he chuckled.

In hindsight, he probably should have said "That's right you can't live without me!" 

—

Jimin didn't think you'd start training so soon. Just two weeks after passing your auditions, he stood in front of your house helping you load your luggage into your dad's car.

He didn't have the heart to talk about how anxious he was, especially when you stood by his side with such a glimmer of hope in your eyes. You were excited and he couldn't ruin that for you, not even when the feeling of dread bubbled up in his throat.

"You have to promise me to text me good morning and good night everyday or else," you said scrunching your nose and wagging a finger at him.

He chuckled.

"I think you're gonna be the one having trouble with that," he teased but slightly hurt with his own words. “Being an idol and all that.”

You punched his arm lightly.

"Don't you dare forget about me, alright? I have eyes and ears all around Busan," you teased.

All he did was laugh, but the pain was evident in his eyes. You squished his cheeks and smiled.

"I like you a lot Jimin," you said, blushing a bit.

He smiled back.

"I like you too."

—

Now studying in Seoul instead of Busan, you were adapting to an environment that was very much different from your everyday routine back at home. Seoul was huge and only having gone there once before moving, you felt extremely homesick without your parents or friend to keep you company.

The video calls you had with Jimin were always cut off early by your busy schedule and you're once affectionate and emoji-filled texts became one word responses in fear of being found out by your trainers. It shouldn't be a secret but you knew the consequences of your company finding out.

That's the thing, though. You can't have a soulmate if you're an idol. It was an unwritten rule and one that wasn't talked about because soulmates weren't really that common anyways. You had to find that out the hard way after a phone call with Jimin led to a confrontation with your roommate Hangyeol.

"You need to break up with him, [Y/N]. Dating will ruin your chances of debuting if they find out," she said, offering advice.

You chuckled.

"I can't do that. We're meant to be, you know?" you said, not really taking her words seriously at first.

"That's sweet, but you know you're still in high school," she started. "There's plenty of fish in the sea, especially after debuting. There’s so many cute guys out there."

"Well he's the only fish for me," you said, eliciting an amused eye-roll from Hangyeol.

"You're too young to be making that decision already, dummy," she said, poking you on the nose.

"No, I mean it," you said seriously, getting slightly irritated with her insistence. "We're soulmates. Red string and all."

You said this casually but Hangyeol's expression darkened so quickly you thought you had insulted her somehow.

"Don't ever say that again," she said seriously, moving closer to you.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Keep your voice quiet or else the others will hear," she said in a low whisper.

She grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

"You're scaring me, Hangyeol."

"You can't be revealing stuff like that so easily, [Y/N]. Idols can't have what you have," she said, clearly dodging the word soulmate. "You'll get kicked out if they find out. Remember that."

She took a step back from you and you could only give a tiny nod.

"C-can I ask why?" you stuttered.

"When we become idols, our fans will always be the first priority," she said strictly. "We can't have room for anyone else."

Somehow, as she walked away, your lips started quivering. You had to take a step outside of the dorm to let yourself cry your eyes out. That was another unspoken rule.

Don't show that you are hurting or else they'll ask why.

—

The distance was killing him. Classes were boring without you being his distraction, playing video games weren’t the same without you trying to steal the mouse from him every once in a while, and waking up to his alarm rather than multiple notifications from you made his heat ache. 

It hurt like hell to see your band perform without you during the end-of-the-year school festival and it hurt even more when he started senior year without you sitting next to him during the welcome ceremony. His world felt less vivid without you and he wondered how he even lived without you by his side in the first place.

He never saw his red thread anymore, either. No matter how many times he wished you’d appear in front of him and spontaneously to engulf him into a warm hug, you would still be in Seoul and he would still be in Busan. You weren’t of much help to alleviate his feelings of abandonment either. He was right to doubt that you’d keep up your end of the promise.

Sometimes you wouldn't respond to Jimin's texts for days and all the feelings he'd bottled up had nowhere to go. He found himself writing letters addressed to you, but the piece of paper was meant for written rants and insecurities for his eyes only. Sometimes he wonders if he should ship it off to your company just to see your reaction, but he didn't have the guts to even try it. Even now he doubts if you’d reply back.

He checks his phone again to see a voice memo from you.

"Hey, I miss you so much. I'm visiting for Christmas so let's meet up then."

He wondered why you couldn't have just called to tell him, why you had been whispering so lowly. He ruffled his hair and called your cellphone. Unsurprisingly, itt was automatically forwarded to a voice mail.

Sunflower [4:38 PM]

sorry can't talk right now. im around a lot of people rn

It occurred to him then that you were keeping him a secret.

—

Christmas came too soon in his opinion. He'd have been more enthusiastic to see you if it wasn't for the dreaded intuition of his... that you were deliberately keeping your relationship under wraps.

He was certain it was the case, testing out your responses based on what time of day it was. During weekdays, you barely responded. He’d find himself double-texting and triple-texting without even you reading his messages. At night during weekends, when you were presumably sneaking out of your dorm, you'd have time to chat with him over the phone. But even then those conversations lasted less than five minutes.

You had made it so obvious and yet it took nine months of you being gone for him to realize that this distance was intentional. That he was feeling all lonely by himself.

When he walked to your home on Christmas night, your mother greeted him. He hadn't visited since you left, feeling awkward without you there.

"She's upstairs," she said curtly. He bowed his head out of respect. As he got closer to the staircase, the red thread appeared once again. A surge of happiness overcame him and he was starting to feel excited. He missed how it felt to wrap it around his wrist, reveling in the thread’s vibrant color. He wondered if you felt the same too.

Jimin didn't know what to do if he was being honest. He stood in front of your door, but it didn't feel like he had the right to enter. He knocked until turning the door handle to open just slightly. He opened it wide when he heard no verbal response and he saw you sitting by your window, your back facing him. He coughed lightly to get your attention and you finally turned around.

“Jimin,” you said, smiling softly. There was a lack of excitement in your eyes that he just couldn’t shake off, even with the red thread being there to ease the tension. You looked different.

Your eyes were sullen and your lips chapped. It made his heart ache seeing you so unlike yourself. 

Or maybe this is who you are now.

He walked towards you cautiously, afraid you’d break at the sound of his footsteps. Jimin sat on your bed facing you. He didn’t know why, but he was nervous.

“You look tired,” he said worriedly. You chuckled in response.

“Just couldn’t sleep well last night,” you said, feigning a smile. “I really wanted to see you though.”

You took your hand in his, laughing in your head as you felt how sweaty his palms were. You missed this feeling.

“Do you wanna go see the Christmas tree at the outlet?” he asked. “I heard the lights are really pretty this year.”

You realized then that he was nervous because of your lack of response. He missed you as much as you missed him.

“Yes! I feel like we should do some shopping,” you said excitedly. It was the first time since he came that you actually gave a genuine response.

“Alright, get ready then,” he sighed of relief. “I’ll wait outside.”

Jimin moved to stand up, but you stopped him with a kiss on his cheek. He blushed a bright red.

“J-just call me when your’re ready.”

You giggled as he walked out the door. You missed him. So damn much.

—

At the outlet, you spent the whole time together ordering all the food that was restricted of you back in Seoul. You ate pancakes, donuts, ice cream- anything that would satisfy your cravings after a prolonged period of dieting. Jimin found it amusing as you spent most of the time at the outlet looking for food rather than shopping for clothes. You two had yet to exchange Christmas presents and he was getting antsy with the small box he hid in his pocket. He got you a studded sunflower hair clips, custom made by him with some help from his grandmother. It wasn’t all that much but you were never one to expect expensive gifts anyways. He hoped you’d notice the sentiment behind it.

Jimin stopped you in front of the outdoor Christmas tree, taking a few pictures together as the snow fell upon you two. He wished the red threat could have been visible through photographs, but alas you two just looked like an ordinary high school couple. As he browsed through the photos to choose which one to make his lock screen, you took out your own present for him. 

“Jimin, Merry Christmas,” you said, pushing the small envelope toward him. He saw a glimmer of sadness in your eyes that made him shudder.

“Wait let me take out your present,” he said, pulling out the box and placing it in your hands.

“You open first, Jimin.”

He nodded, peeling the sticker off of the envelope and pulling out a red string bracelet, similar in color to the thread around his pinky finger.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. After pulling one of your jacket sleeves up, you pointed at your own wrist.

“It’s a couple item, okay? So don’t lose it,” you teased.

He ripped the tag off the bracelet and put it on his wrist.

“Of course. Now open yours!” 

You smiled, but it was the kind that didn’t really reach your eyes. You opened the box and you swore you could cry at that moment. 

Sunflower. 

Your favorite.

“I made it myself,” he said, satisfied with the reaction you gave him.

“I love it so much, Jimin,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Put it on. I wanna see you wear it,” he insisted. All you could do was shake your head.

You sniffled and furrowed your brows. You hated that you had to say it, but you needed to. You really did.

“Jimin I have to tell you something,” you said, trying to sound calm but ultimately failing. The same feeling of dread that he felt when he first walked into your room earlier that day engulfed him.

“What?” he whispered softly.

“I... I...” you stuttered, tears ready to spill out any moment.

“Relax, [Y/N]. Take a deep breath,” he said.

You did but it only helped temporarily.

“I’m so stupid, I didn’t read the contract and I thought everything would be fine, but... but,” you said, struggling to finish your sentence.

He was patient, patting your back as you cried into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured.

You looked into his eyes and it felt like right then and there that you’d be sentenced to life in hell. 

“Jimin, I can’t be with you anymore. They won’t let me.”

A freezing sensation overcame Jimin’s body. He pulled away from you slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“They told me I’ll only get to debut if I break up with you,” you said, wishing for his warmth back. “I tried to keep it a secret for so long, but they found out after I got caught sneaking out of the dorm.”

So my suspicions were right, Jimin thought.

“We’re soulmates, [Y/N]. We need to be together,” he pleaded.

You could only bow your head down in shame. “I know, but just for now. Just until things start to work out for me and I can finally get them to understand. I promise Jimin, I just need time.”

“How long would that take?” he asked, doubt consuming his mind.

You sighed, putting you attention on the ground covered with snow.

“I- I don’t know. I just worked so hard to get to where I am now,” you cried. “They acknowledge me now, Jimin. They think I have what it takes. I really, really want to debut.”

You looked back up to him as he took you back into his arms gently. He whsipered into your hair.

“And you will. I swear you will.”

You sighed in relief. 

“Promise you’ll wait for me? That even if we don’t talk, you’ll still want to be with me?” you asked as you looked into his eyes, searching for comfort.

He wanted to say yes so badly. Looking into those tear-stained eyes with exhaustion written all over them, looking at your beautiful lips and how much he wished that he could kiss them.

But it occurred to him in that moment that it wasn’t going to be as easy as you said it would be. That it’d probably take years and looking back at the measly nine months he spent without you made his heart clench at just the thought of it. The endless pit of loneliness, the feeling of being ripped from something he knew he should’ve been a part of him. He remembered the countless letters he wrote addressed to no one in particular and how he cried almost daily at the thought of you forgetting about his existence. If he had to endure that pain any longer he’s sure he’d go crazy. If he had to watch you debut and live your life without him... it would just be too much for his heart to handle. Even as you looked at him so intently, he couldn’t find it in himself to agree.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he said softly. “I don’t think I can promise that.”

He pulled your hands that wrapped around him and took a step back. Your mind was spinning.

“What do you mean Jimin?” you asked, fear laced in your words.

“I don’t think I can wait for you,” he said as calmly as he could. “I don’t think I could handle anymore waiting.”

“But you said it yourself Jimin,” you cried. “We’re soulmates. We need each other.”

He nodded sadly.

“We are, but your moving on to better things in life,” he said. “You want to debut and I’m holding you back from doing that. I’d probably ruin your career if we reveal ourselves later too. You don’t need a soulmate to be happy [Y/N]. Look around us, everyone’s doing just fine.”

He was levelheaded, but in the inside he wanted to punch himself twenty times over at how he was handling this. But it was true in a way as you looked around the courtyard filled with happy couples and cute children. How many of these people were soulmates? Probably none. You could spend the rest of your life not knowing your soulmate and still fall in love and still achieve great things. But if you’ve already met the one, how could you possibly forget him?

“Jimin, please,” you said, attempting to reach out to his face. He stepped back and avoided eye contact.

“I’m sorry [Y/N], but I can’t.”

Jimin turned around without another glance towards you and started to walk away. He couldn’t see your face because if he did, he knew it would hurt both you and him more. You needed to stop him, you needed him back in your arms, but your feet refused to move- like you were stopping yourself from getting to him. You needed to say something at least, something to get him to come back.

“Jimin, I love you,” you said, tears once again cascading down your face. You didn’t think the first time you’d say those words would be when you two break up, but it was happening now and there was no going back.

He stopped momentarily, breaking down without you knowing. He wiped the tears from his eyes and composed himself.

“I love you too.”

The red thread that connected you two slowly faded away until you were there, left in front of a glowing Christmas tree and a sunflower hair clip in your hand. Curling yourself into a fetal-like position on the snow-covered concrete, you cried and cried. 

But still, people walked around you, not really paying any attention. Still happy and still thriving. Without a soulmate by their side.

—

AN: I don’t know if I wanna make a pt. 2 for this, I’m kind of satisfied with the ending :3 Hope y’all enjoyed and please let me know your thoughts on this! I love the feedback you guys give me ehehe. Requests are open by the way! I’ll accept requests for BTS, Seventeen, NCT (all units), etc. Just let me know which group and I’ll see if I can write about it. Thank you guys, I’m very grateful to my readers! If I do make a pt. 2, ask to be a part of the taglist :D

[starlightsearches]

Hi there can I please request a Hux x nurse!reader? I just rlly want a lot of fluff bcs I recently rewatched TROS and I felt sad again bcs of hux's fate. Thanks owo

For Good Luck

Of course! IDK if this is as fluffy as you wanted, but I kind of ran with it, and I think that the ending is nice and soft! Hope you like it 😊

Requests are closed for now, but will be opening again very soon ✨

Armitage Hux x Nurse! Reader

Warnings: Language, an injury and some medical care including needles!

“He’s asked for you again,” Tayan says in a sing-song voice, and you look away from him to hide your reaction. It’s no secret—to you or anyone else working in the medbay—that the general prefers you over the others. The real secret is why he prefers you, which is something you’re not really sure about either.

“What’s he here for?” you ask, leaning over the workstation to get a look at the report on the data pad, but he hides it from your view.

“Split lip and a bruised ego,” Tayan says with a shit-eating grin, “do you think you can kiss it better?” He bats his eyelashes in mock innocence, and you shove him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes. You’ve told him before—sworn on your life—that it wasn’t like that, had never even come close to that, and he still wouldn’t believe you. Not that the truth is any more believable.

“How’d it happen?” you ask, changing the subject, still trying to peek at the screen.

“Haven’t you heard?” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you. Tayan, you’ve learned since joining the Finalizer crew, is a terrible gossip. Those words come out of his mouth about as often as he breathes. Only half the information he imparts is actually true, but you don’t hold it against him. It is, after all, very entertaining.

“The Resistance escaped.” His expression darkens, any trace of laughter gone, an unfamiliar hardness set in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, “are you serious?” He doesn’t have to respond. Not even Tayan would joke about something like that.

“The Supreme Leader was livid when he found out,” he continues, expression still grave, “I heard from Mina on the bridge that he threw the general into a wall.”

“Damn,” there’s not much else to say, and your heart breaks for the general, but you hope Tayan won’t see that as silence falls over the two of you for a moment, thinking about what might happen next. It’s times like this that make you grateful you’re not the one in charge.

“I guess the general’s been summoned to the Supremacy,” Tayan continues lightly, restored to his normal self, “but he had to say goodbye to his girlfriend first.” He drags the word girlfriend out like a little boy, and needles you in the side with his elbow when he says it. You flinch away from him, stifling a laugh. A comment like that doesn’t deserve a response, but you sink to his level anyway, flashing him a rude gesture before heading down to the exam rooms.

The prickling excitement begins at the base of your neck, and you force yourself to tamp it down. This is no time for flirting; obviously the general would be upset, and you’d have to be mindful of that. The flirting was mostly one-sided anyways, but occasionally you’d get a glimpse of something different, something softer. You lived for those glimpses.

When you first began working as a medbay attendant on the Finalizer, the general was essentially a myth. You never saw him, but you heard enough from the others to know that he didn’t like the medbay, and any time he was forced to come, well . . . everyone had a horror story, it seemed, and they all loved repeating them when shifts got slow. Personally, you had a hard time believing that the general could really be that bad, but that didn’t mean you had been excited when that asshole, Dr. Hebbit, had told you that it was your turn to perform the general’s quarterly check-up.

You had been certain that the others were playing a joke on you after the appointment. The general had been a model patient; the check up went smoothly as he obliged each of your requests without a word. When you finished, he had left with a curt nod, and that was it. The other medbay attendants had lost their shit when you told them that nothing had happened. Everyone had their own theory why the general hadn’t lashed out at you, but Tayan’s line of thinking had definitely been the most popular. Against your will, a little blossom of hope sprung up in your chest. 

Things only got stranger. After that first meeting, the general was in and out of the medbay on a regular basis, always for minor complaints, and always when you were working. You tried not to think too much of it, but that didn’t stop you from lighting up every time you heard that he needed your help.

And then once, just as you were cleaning up, you felt him behind you. Every part of you was on high alert, addicted to the tension but forced to ignore it as you washed your hands. 

“Thank you for your service today,” he said, and one of his hands came forward—still without touching you—fingering a tendril of hair that had slipped out from where you had secured it. He placed it back behind your ear, and you shuddered, tempted to lean back into him—so that you could feel him there, so you would be sure you weren’t hallucinating. And then he was gone. 

Moments like that happened a few more times, and every time they occupied an even larger part of your mind. It was enough to drive you insane, but no matter how much you wanted it, nothing more had happened. That didn’t stop you from imagining what it would be like. 

You clear your mind as you enter the exam room, and there’s a stab of pain in your chest when you see him. He’s never looked this small before, his shoulders slumped as he studies the floor, but you clear your throat to announce your arrival, and his posture straightens.

“Hello General,” you say, adopting your typical bedside manner, “I’m here to take a look at your injury.” He nods, watching you with careful eyes as you scrub your hands and then put on a pair of exam gloves. There’s already a supply tray set up by the exam table, and you glance over it quickly, checking to make sure that you have everything that you’ll need. Once you’re sure that it’s all in order, you can get started.

“I’ll need to take a closer look,” you say, gently taking the general’s jaw into your hands with a glass-delicate grip, and he opens his mouth obediently so that you can see the wound. It’s a small gash on the inner corner of his mouth, dripping a steady stream of blood down his chin and onto his neck, and you catch yourself thinking about cleaning it off with your tongue.

Gross, you scold yourself, rolling your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks. That needs to stop.

“Something wrong?” the general asks, the muscles of his jaw flexing under your hands, and you stiffen in surprise.

“No, sir,” the words come out rushed, and you look away, hoping he can’t tell how embarrassed you are, “just something in my eye.” It’s a weak excuse, but he doesn’t question it, and you grab a wipe, clearing off the blood with gentle precision. He smells like mint, and antiseptic, and the coppery sting of blood—none of which you particularly like—but now you think it might be your new favorite combination. 

“The good news is that it's relatively small,” you continue, applying a little pressure to the wound to staunch the flow of blood, “but the bad news is that you’ll probably need at least one stitch to keep it closed. I’d use bacta, but I don’t think it will work very well in such a moist environment.” You cringe inwardly; it’s strange to talk about the general’s mouth, especially when you have a finger inside of it, but if he’s bothered, it doesn’t show. And if he likes it, that doesn’t really show either. 

“I can get a doctor to do it, if you’d prefer,” you offer, out of habit. You’d given plenty of stitches working the medbay, but most people were a little less trusting when you had a needle in their face. Still, the sharp sting of jealousy bites at your heart. You’d come to think of the general as your patient, and you’re not really interested in sharing.

“That’s not necessary,” he says, and you relax only for a moment before you’re tense again at the thought of getting that much closer to the general’s mouth.

“This will hurt,” you say, and the general nods. "Do you want anything for the pain?" Another shake of the head, and you thread the needle.

He shivers when you turn back, glancing at the needle out of the corner of his eye, but you don't think it's from fear. Gently, and with more feeling than you’d like, you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip, and they part once again. You get closer, adjusting yourself between the general’s legs so that you can have a better view of the area. It’s not strictly necessary, but it does improve your view just enough to be worth it.

You hold the general’s lip down with one hand, and approach with the needle in the other. Just as you’re about to break the surface of the skin, he stops you, gripping your wrist with one gloved hand. You practically jump out of your skin, the movement startles you so badly, and it’s only by sheer luck that you keep hold of the needle. He studies the inside of your arm, completely ignoring the confusion in your expression, and thumbs the edge of your glove away, exposing the veins right at the bend where your wrist meets your hand. He pulls your wrist closer, like he’s going to bite you, but instead he presses his soft lips to the exposed area, and your vision blurs around the edges. The blood rushes from your head, and your pulse explodes under the contact. Your knees threaten to buckle underneath you when you feel the faintest trace of his tongue run over your skin, but he grips your wrist more tightly, holding you up. 

Your face is on fire when he finally returns your gaze, and although his expression is calm and untroubled, there’s a blaze beneath it. He wants you. He’s made that perfectly clear.

“For good luck,” he says, releasing his grip, and you’re shaking, your mind gone hazy from the unexpected turn of events. How’re you going to pull a needle through his skin now? You close your eyes and take a few grounding breaths, waiting for the blood to return to your normally-steady fingers, but it’s difficult when you’re still thinking about his mouth.

By some miracle, you’re able to gain control once again with a superhuman amount of determination and the strict directive to avoid eye contact at all costs. Once you’ve accomplished that, the actual stitching is fairly easy, and you tie it off with a quick flourish.

“All done,” you say, dropping the needle on the tray and removing your gloves. Even though your hands are steady, your voice still shakes, and you’re not ready to look at him just yet. “Just make sure you don’t smile for a few days.” He snorts in response as he stands, and you scold yourself. Of course he wouldn’t be smiling. Not where he was going.

Thinking about it again brings the feeling of a knife blade to your heart. He would be leaving, this is the last time you’d see him in a long time, maybe forever. Another stab of pain arrives; that was why he finally made his desires clear. He knew this was his last chance.

“General, wait-” you call out, but to your surprise, he hasn’t left yet. In fact, he’s still right behind you, like he was waiting for this moment. The determination you had moments ago withers slightly and you find yourself looking up through your eyelashes, suddenly shy.

“Yes?” he asks, like he always knew you’d end up here, and you raise your hand, emboldened, fitting it behind his neck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, closing the gap. You press your lips gently to his, hoping to preserve the stitch, but the general doesn’t seem to care about that as he holds your face in both his hands, hunger apparent in every movement, need laid out before you. You know the stitch has to be pulling at the tissue, threatening to pop, and you taste the blood as his tongue meets yours, but all of it is so far outside your realm of concern right now. He’s kissing you back. Finally.

You part from him, reluctantly, as he pulls away from you, hoping for just one moment more. You know you’re doe-eyed when he looks at you, already cursing the heat in your cheeks, wishing you could be less-obviously enamored. Hating how much you care. The general looks indifferent, to your disappointment, there’s no trace of his visit to the medbay visible at all. Like you never existed. Moments ago you were rippling with happiness and now you’re left empty.

“I’m leaving for the Supremacy,” General Hux says, adjusting the perfect fit of his uniform, and you nod quickly. The sooner he leaves, the better. You don’t want him to see you cry. The traitorous tears come anyways, and you turn away from him, clearing off the supply tray and hoping he won’t notice. The act works so well, you almost don’t hear his next words. “I’d like for you to come with me, transfer to the medbay there.” You look at him again in surprise, and you see it: the softness he had only barely begun to show, there in full force.

“Do you anticipate needing much medical care, General?” You’re not sure if you mean it as a joke or if you’re searching for some kind of validation, but either way the general doesn’t laugh. No, instead he steps closer once again, tilting your gaze to meet his with a hand on your chin.

“No,” he says, “I just don’t want to go alone.” The reason doesn’t matter. You already know you’ll follow him anywhere.

[imaginebenedictcumberbatch]

Anytime

You looked out of the window. The way the greenery flew by memorised you. “Tainted Love” playing in your ears. You were lost in your memories. Him. He was all you could think about. The way he would flash his beautiful smile at you. Your could’ve sworn you heart had stopped when he called your name even if it was just your character’s name. “Molly!”. “Sherlock!”. Oh you could definitely sympathise with Molly Hoper. Sherlock was good but Benedict Cumberbatch was definitely 10000000000000000 times better. Right now you were on your way to new home. Ireland. Northern Ireland. You had a fight with the director of Sherlock. He was convinced that it was your fault that you had broken your leg on set. It was a fight scene and Molly was supposed to be the hero. But one of the other actors on set tripped and made you fall. A tear slipped down your cheek remembering. He was ready to make you pay for the hospital’s service. He knew you could barely pay for your own flat. Acting was your way to escape the real world. Along with signing and dancing. He fired you. You were convinced that he wouldn’t. How else would he finish the series. Wrong. You were completely wrong. He erased you. It was like you never existed. In that episode anyway. They replaced you. You were forgotten without a second thought. That was what you believed anyway. The song switched. “Virtual Insanity” now started. You were always one for “funky” music. Not too funky though. This was the funkiest you would go. This caused a different memory. A funny memory. “Y/n?”asked an unsure voice behind you. You didn’t hear the door open or the sound of feet behind you. You had been dancing and singing your heart out while cleaning your trailer. You were sweeping the floor. You used to broom as a dancing partner. You dipped yourself as you danced like your life depended on it. “Baby, I love your way” blasting in your earphones. Your hips swinging to the music. You used to take dance. For 8 years. You were highly flexible which was an advantage seeming as you usually played in action movies. You were the badass heroine with a gun and a leather jacket. In other words, you watched too much telly. “Y/n?” a different voice asked again. The song stopped. You heard this voice. You froze. Your back was to the door. Oh Dip. You turned around and saw the WHOLE cast of BBC Sherlock looking at you. “Hi......” you said. You really screwed up now y/n you thought. Then the weirdest thing happened. They burst out laughing. It took you less then a second to join them. You laughed with them for over 2 minutes. “Time” laugh “to” laugh “start” laugh “the scene” laugh. You smiled to your self. You would missed them. Everyone. Definitely Ben. Definitely him. Then bus stopped. You walked to the exit with your headphones playing y/f/s (you favourite song) not noticing the man in front of you. “Hey watch it!” he said in a thick Irlish accent. “Sorry sir!”. “Y/n?!”. You were hallucinating. You must be. “Y/n?!”. No that was definitely him. The man you have had a crush on since you first saw him, 5 years ago. The man who stole your heart a one glance. Benedict Cumberbatch. Next thing you know you are lifted off your feet, and pulled in to a big hug. “Ben?! What are you doing here?!” “You didn’t think I would let you leave your scarf?” “I didn’t leave my scarf.” He then pulled off his own scarf and put it around your neck. “Yes you did.” “T-thanks” He tilted your head up and planted a soft kiss on your lips. Not two long but just enough for a good first kiss. “Anytime.”

[xaviermayne]

My Brother's Favorite Toy: Part Two

"Get the fuck out of here," Grayson said, throwing his hand toward the door.

"Dude, I've got a raging bone—"

"I don't fucking care!" Grayson yelled, covering his face with a forearm. "I said get out of my room."

Ethan stood for a moment, shocked that Grayson made him work so hard for him, and then wouldn't at least let Ethan take care of his own need.

Once he got back to his room, Ethan's dick had gotten softer, and he was feeling too deflated to even try and finally knock one out. He thought about how Grayson looked after he came, the look of shame on his face.

Things didn't get much better. The next day, they had breakfast in virtual silence. Ethan finally tried to break the ice when he finished the last scoop of his avocado.

"Bet it took a long time cleaning up last night," he said.

"Ethan!" Grayson snapped. "We're not gonna talk about that, alright?" He glared straight into Ethan's eyes. "Like, ever. Got it?"

Ethan sat stoned-faced. How could they never talk about it? They had just permanently crossed a line as brothers. Before that, the gayest thing they'd ever done together was occasionally watch porn together, but only when they were both horny and exhausted from traveling, jerking themselves under the sheets, each in separate double beds in a hotel room.

It had to be talked about. But Ethan knew his brother. Sometimes Grayson just needed time. Ethan would just have to wait.

Later that morning, they were working out when Ethan suddenly realized he'd made a grave mistake. He still hadn't cum since last night, and Grayson was loading up the weights on the squat rack. Ethan was about to be forced to view his favorite in-person porno play out yet again in front of his eyes, with a level of horniness he didn't think he'd ever experienced before.

To make matters worse, Grayson was wearing a new pair of shorts that Ethan just knew was going to drive him crazy. Short red ones made of this clingy combed cotton, and Ethan swore they were at least a half-size too small.

Ethan tried to look away, but his eyes flicked back to his brother's backside as soon as he heard his brother grunt as he lowered himself down, the heavy barbell held up against Grayson's shoulders with his strong arms. As he bent his knees, Grayson's ass pushed out further and further, until Ethan saw the fabric of the shorts straining to hold in his brother's mighty ass.

Ethan felt like his body had just been tossed in an oven, with prickly heat all over him as he felt his dick swell again too. There was a pang of pain as his balls ached.

He worried he might even be hallucinating when he could've sworn he saw the outline of his brother's hole through his too-thin shorts. The same one he'd fingered last night.

Grayson quickly raised back up, then shrugged the barbell off his shoulders, and the weights slammed to the floor, quaking their gym. Ethan was shocked. "Gray, are you okay?" Ethan asked. "That could've gone straight through the floor, bro." Grayson turned around, glaring at this brother.

"Are you okay, Ethan?" Grayson asked in a mocking tone. Then he pointed below Ethan. Ethan looked down and saw what looked like— yep, that was his precum on the floor. He'd been so entranced that he hadn't realized his growing dick had snaked its way through his boxer briefs, the head drizzling precum as it rested between his thigh and shorts.

"Oh, fuck," Ethan murmured.

"You're fucking disgusting, Ethan," Grayson said. Ethan could see the repulsion in his brother's eyes. A vein on Grayson's neck had popped out, and Grayson walked toward Ethan, his muscles juiced up from the set. For a moment, Ethan was legitimately scared of what Grayson was about to do. "We're brothers, Ethan. It's not just gay, it's incest. That fucking illegal. And even if it weren't, like that's just fucking weird, bro. I'm working out and you're literally cumming on the floor, which I hope you're gonna clean up by—"

The adrenaline pumping through Ethan gave him a sudden burst of confidence. "Bro, shut up, you're literally the one who made me fingerbang you last night."

Grayson grimaced at "fingerbang". "You're the one who broke my fucking dildo, bro!" Grayson screamed at Ethan, leaning in his reddening face until Ethan could feel flecks of spit hit his cheeks. "You used something that'd been up my ass, Ethan! You're a fucking freak!"

Ethan was actually trembling now, although he was trying his best to hide it. The brothers had promised to never punch each other, but with all the blood and testosterone flowing through Grayson right now after his workout, Ethan really couldn't be sure.

Suddenly, Grayson pivoted and walked over to one of their weight benches. For a split second, Ethan thought maybe Grayson would just continue with his workout to get out his aggression out. But then, to Ethan's surprise, Grayson pulled down his shorts and underwear. Ethan stood in stunned silence, his mouth agape, as Grayson stepped out of them and laid face-down on the wide, black leather bench. Grayson pushed back his dick and balls so he could lay entirely flat, and then let his legs dangle off the sides. He turned his face away from Ethan.

"W-what are you doing?" Ethan stammered quietly.

"You're gonna fuck me," Grayson said, his voice echoing around the gym. "If you're such a freak and want to fuck your brother, let's just do it and get it over with. Then you can finally be fucking satisfied and we can never talk about this again."

Confused and suspicious, Ethan walked slowly over to Grayson. He wanted to ask more questions, but the sight of his brother's plump buns stupefied him once again, with his cock quickly pulsing back up to full wood. Meekly, Ethan squatted down to part his brother's cheeks. When he did, he was intoxicated by both the sight of that tight pink hole, now in the daylight, and the special brand of sweaty musk that Ethan could smell from his brother's exposed crack.

"Two rules: go slow, and don't cum inside me or I'll rip your fucking dick off."

"Kay," said Ethan. Ethan hocked and spat a loogie on his brother's hole, then began fingering him just like last night. This time, Grayson stayed completely silent. But Ethan knew he was doing good work when he found his brother's spot, and Grayson's dick, pinned back against the leather, started to grow.

For always looking so tight, Ethan was surprised how quickly Grayson was opening up. He figured last night probably helped stretch him. But Grayson's hole didn't even twitch once, which made Ethan think his brother wanted it a little more than he let on.

When Ethan finally got a third finger in, and Grayson's dick was throbbing, a bead of precum glistening in his slit, Ethan pulled down his shorts and underwear, kicking them off. His dick swung round, he didn't think he'd even been harder. He spit twice in his hand and then palmed his dick, making sure every inch was glistening.

Ethan had to smirk when he finally felt the tip of his head press against his brother's warm entrance. He pushed, and his smirk spread into a wide, silly grin when he saw the full tip disappear inside Grayson's muscular ass. But that was the easy part.

The twins both had what they referred to as torpedo-shaped dicks. Rather small heads, but the shaft quickly flared out to their full widths, then sloping back down to normal once you got to the base. So Ethan knew the hardest part was yet to come.

He pushed gently, and surprisingly Grayson didn't seem to mind. In fact, he could've swore he saw Grayson's dick throb hard a couple times right after. When he started really pushing in, though, is when Grayson started to groan with discomfort. Ethan stopped, letting his brother's already-stretched ring adjust to his girthy cock.

When he was sure Grayson must be ready again, he started squeezing in further. Grayson's groan quickly shot up to a yell. "Ahh, fuck! Go slow, what did I fucking say?" Grayson yelled.

"I am going slow!" Ethan shouted, though he knew that wasn't true. He was so impatient to pound away. Then he leaned his head forward and let another mouthful of spit drop onto where Grayson's hole was puckered around his pulsing dick. Then, after a few more moments, slid more in.

Grayson groaned dramatically, slamming a fist into the bench, but the extra spit seemed to help, as Ethan was able to squeeze in the full width with little protestation from the coiffed-haired cutie.

Ethan pulled out a bit carefully, then pushed back in. Grayson stayed silent.

"You're taking this like a champ," Ethan said.

"Shut the fuck up," Grayson said through gritted teeth.

With his next pump, Ethan went a little bit further. Suddenly, he saw Grayson's expression seem to light up in the mirror facing the bench. That's the spot, Ethan thought, remembering a similar expression on his brother's face last night. He pulled out and in again, and he could've sworn he heard a tiny moan croak out of his brother's throat.

Newly confident, and desperate to get his full dick in, Ethan dared to go a bit deeper. Yep, that was a moan, Ethan thought, as Grayson slapped a hand against his own mouth, then buried his face in the bench. Ethan began building a rhythm, plunging his big dick in and out of his little brother. Not his entire length, though, since Ethan wasn't sure how deep you could even go in a guy's ass, and he didn't want to push his luck, as he could hear Grayson's muffled moans and knew his bottoming bro was enjoying that big torpedo middle pressing against his p-spot.

Pumping away, Ethan suddenly felt that tingle behind his balls, and he had to stop mid-thrust. Don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, Ethan thought frantically. He remembered the one thing that always helped him not prematurely ejaculate.

Womp womp womp, Ethan sang in his head. Yeah-ee-ah-ee yeahh! It was the old James Charles meme. Womp womp womp! The vision of James's ghostly face attempting to sing worked once more. The need to cum passed.

Pulling back before another thrust, Ethan looked down and saw the lips of his brother's ass pussy puckered around his cock. He was stretching Grayson out so much, it was like Gray's ass was trying to suck his cock whenever he pulled out some.

He pushed back into Grayson's warm, wet, velvety ass, and then continued to pump. At one point he repositioned his foot, causing his dick to tilt down a bit more, and then Ethan could've sworn he started hearing his brother utter little high-pitched "uhhhn" sounds with every pound. Encouraged, Ethan tilted his hips down a little bit more, to where his iron missile was pile-driving nearly straight down into Grayson's ass. In the mirror, Ethan saw Grayson's handsome head suddenly shoot up from being buried in the bench. Grayson's eyes were rolling back into his head.

Ethan kept his rhythm. Looking down, he saw Grayson's ring suddenly clamp down a bit on Ethan's dick. Ethan grunted from how good that felt, then Grayson's ass widened back out. Then Ethan saw Grayson's balls pull up a bit, and Grayson's bulbous prostate, bulging out between his hole and his balls, pulsed hard, almost seeming to squeeze.

Suddenly, a hot white load of cum rocketed out of Grayson's red, rock hard dick. It shot between Ethan's thrusting legs and Ethan heard it splatter behind them, all over the chest fly machine. With another pile-drive, Ethan watched Grayson's prostate squeeze hard again, and a split second later another big load shot out.

Holy shit, Ethan thought. I'm milking him with my fucking dick.

Piledrive after piledrive, Grayson's cock blasted load after load. Clearly his balls had managed to restock overnight. Obsessed with the control over his brother's pleasure, Ethan couldn't help himself from keep going. And though the bulb of Grayson's prostate kept pulsing each time, the loads eventually got smaller and smaller, until it seemed as if Grayson was stilling cumming, but had actually run out of cum. His dick would still quiver as if it were shooting, but it was just blanks.

God, I milked him completely dry. Suddenly something primal kicked into Ethan. He looked up at his brother with his eyes still rolling back, his mouth agape. Ethan felt that warm tingle, but even the meme couldn't help him now. He was in animalistic breeding mode now. With a loud growl, Ethan felt his aching balls seize, and he finally pounded his giant saved-up load inside his brother's ass. Something inside Ethan made him want to breed his seed, as far deep as he could. He heard Grayson grunt in pain as Ethan forced the last inch of his dick in, and sprayed a couple more shots inside.

Breathless, the intense warmth of the orgasm slowly cooled out of Ethan's body. He collapsed on top of Grayson, his dick still balls-deep. Ethan's ballsack loosened and drooped on top of his brother's, which flanked Grayson's softening dick.

Ethan smirked to himself, thinking, Now it's really gay, because our balls touched.

"Ummm Ethan?" Grayson asked, his voice strained.

"Yeah, Gray?" Ethan replied, expecting him to say something like, Get the fuck off me.

Instead, Grayson lifted his head, his brow furrowed, and demanded, "You didn't just shoot YOUR FUCKING LOAD IN ME, DID YOU?!"

Ethan gulped.

[dafodilion]

Jaskier kind of has magic. Not in the sense that Yennifer has, not the kind that can be harnessed and controlled. No, his magic is more of an intuitive understanding of immediate future events.

But he wasn’t born with this gift, though he wouldn’t really call it a gift. He had met this girl named Lios who had told him that he could be bound for great things and that she could help him, if he helped her first

She told him she was a seer, but that in order for her to see things, she had to hear things. She asked him to play for her, and so he did. He played a quiet song, one that he had been working on for a while but was only just starting to turn out in a way he liked.

At the end of the song she looked at him and, with a dozen voices on her tongue, told him “There is a man who sits in the corner, and will not tell his opinion of you. When you find him, follow him. Befriend him. He will need you in ways he won’t admit even to himself. I will help you when your actions are needed, and guide you to the places where you will feel me.”

Then he was alone. He woke up the next day feeling a strange pull towards Posada. To sing at the tavern. Then he sees him.

He felt a pull towards him. The same one that had brought him to Posada, and to sing at the tavern. He hears Lios’ words ‘follow him.’ So he does.

-

He asks her if what happened with the Elves was what she meant. She nods.

He asks her if she wanted him to follow him any longer. She nods.

He asks her what her name means because it’s unusual to an extent. She tells him it means “That which is always meant to be.”

-

He has the feeling about certain lines in his songs. It sort of feels like pride and comfort, but not quite either of those either.

He felt it when he wrote the song for Geralt.

-

She appears to him in a dream a few years later. He assumes it’s a dream. She tells him to take Geralt with him to Queen Calanthe’s feast. That he’ll be near soon enough, that it is necessary.

He knows something is about to happen with Pavetta as soon as they walk into the hall. She has a secret and it will cause something to happen. He’s careful to watch the princess, curiosity getting the better of him. He can feel the magic growing just before Pavetta desperately saves Duny.

He feels the magic happen when Duny begs to pay Geralt back, before he invokes the law of surprise.

At the end of the incident, Geralt doesn’t seem too pleased with him. Though, besides this, Jaskier could have sworn he had seen Lios at the feast. That has Jaskier on edge, if only for a day or so.

-

She tells him to wish for death. She tells him that he won’t die. She doesn’t explain that one. But when he finds Geralt only a few days later, and him being on the run from the husband of a woman who had bedded him, he finds he no longer needs the explanation.

They had been acquainted for several years at this point. The determination with which Geralt pursued help for him was endearing, if only slightly baffling.  

He can feel that this will somehow end badly. He’s not sure how, but he knows. The feeling disappears when they meet Yennifer. That or it’s overpowered by her magic. He felt it again before the building crumbled, but it kept building until he looked in the window. Then it all made sense when he saw Geralt and Yennifer having their time that he understood why it was endearing. This magic was meant as a warning for him he supposes.

-

Lios visits him again. He tells her he’s mad at her. He tells her that he doesn’t like being her puppet. That if she has plans then she should enact them herself. She reminds him that he agreed to help her.

He asks her what she wants now. She said she wanted to apologize in advance, because she knew this would hurt him. He woke up and could feel the magic starting to build.

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take  you  off my hands.”

-

She visits him one more time, as he walks down the mountain. Her voice is solemn, almost mournful when she tells him that she will only ask one last favor. The he no longer accompany Geralt of Rivia. If he did this, his debt is paid. He will keep his gift, and do with it as he wishes.

This hurts him. She says that she knew this would happen if he did what she told him to do. It had to be done, she explains.

-

He lets the magic guide his life. He learned how to defend himself when he felt a pull towards a sword. He travels aimlessly but never lasts more than a week without happening upon a village.

He becomes a professor when he finds out that he had only just missed an encounter with Geralt and Ciri. The small town was concerned for the small child initially, travelling with a witcher, but when she clung to him and he hid her during a Nilfgaar patrol they changed their minds. Jaskier realized that travelling could very well mean seeing Geralt again, so he decides to be stationary. He feels at peace when he’s settled. More at peace than he had been since Geralt had wished him away.

He hears of Cintra and the battle of Sodden Hill. He almost went to offer what little help he could, but the magic pulled for him to stay. He had long since learned to trust that pull.

-

He felt something building through the morning.  He hadn’t felt anything like it since the dragon hunt. He didn’t know what it was until he got to his office, and saw the sorceress Yennifer of Vengerber sitting in his chair. He asks her what she wants.

There’s a little girl who visits me, she says. Keeps telling me what to do as if she is the absolute in everything, she says.

“Her name is Lios.”

Yennifer asks how Jaskier got rid of her. 

He explains that he did what she asked and followed the pull. That the pull is a feeling of where to go and what decision is the right one. He explains that she asked him to follow Geralt around. That she told him to take him to Calanthe’s feast, to wish when he found the djinn. To leave and never look back. He explains that her name means “That which is always meant to happen.”

She says it sounds like destiny. He had thought so too.

He mentions that there’s an opening for a theoretical magic professor. He could put in a good word for her if she wanted. Continue their petty rivalry. She laughs a bit at that, but declines. She, apparently, has work to do.

-

He’s surprised when he finds the name Cirilla Riannon on his roster. Even more when she shows up to his office on the first day.

She asks how he’s been and if he still sings, remembering his performances in her Grandmother’s court. He says he still plays and sings and writes, but he doesn’t perform the way he did. She says it’s a shame.

She tells him that she’ll only be here for a short while. Geralt is following a lead and he wanted her to have some formal education. He tells her she’s welcome to stop by any time.

-

He feels the magic building again. Just like with Yennifer. He goes to his office and finds Ciri waiting for him. Nothing is out of the ordinary with her. The visit is a normal one, and when she leaves, he begins critiquing his student’s latest assignments. He stays later than he would have, listening to the pull he had sort of forgotten about until it begged him to stay seated.

Yennifer came into his office. Well, she portaled in to be correct. She asked where Ciri was. She sounded frantic. He told her how to find her room, but was pulled from asking why.

He found out soon enough when Ciri came running in to hug him goodbye. She tells him Nilfgaarian soldiers have Geralt and that she has to go. He and Yennifer share a look and come to an agreement.

The feeling didn’t go away.

-

He was surprised to see Lios. He thought she was done with him. She tells him that this is what happens when she isn’t listened to. That he will live. That this is not his problem to face, he is only a bystander.

-

He was not expecting to be kidnapped.

The Nilfgaardian soldiers came and asked for Cirilla. Innocently, they were told that Jaskier was most likely to know. That he was in his office.

They took him away in the middle of the night. The feeling, though, didn’t go away until he was tied, in a room, and heard Geralt being beaten and interrogated

-

Jaskier can only deal with quiet for so long before he starts humming. Mostly new songs that he’d written but had yet to perform. He had thought Geralt was asleep. It’s not until he sighs, frustrated that there’s nothing to do, that he’s proven wrong.

Geralt says that the melodies are new. Jaskier doesn’t respond. He doesn’t really want to.

Geralt says that Jaskier is only in there because of him. Because he was careless. Jaskier still says nothing.

He sits in a corner where he can’t see Geralt, and Geralt can’t see him.

-

He hears a loud noise come from outside. It had been several days, at least, though it’s hard to tell. Geralt had stopped trying to talk to him, and Jaskier had stopped humming.

He sees a flash of light, and then its gone. He hears soldiers shouting, then they’re in the room.

Where’s the witcher, they shout. He’s gone, Jaskier realizes. There’s another explosion and they all run outside.

He’s left alone.

-

Lios comes to him a few days later. Or perhaps its a hallucination.

They were supposed to take you. They hate listening to me.

He doesn’t know what she means.

-

He’s awoken by a bright light, and a woman’s voice calling out his name.

He’s not awake for long.

-

Lios, he calls for her. She appears. He doesn’t ask his question.

He was suppose to look for you. A long time ago. He never did.

-

The bed he wakes up in is not one he’s been in before. He hears a hushed conversation.

I told you, if you had listened to the girl in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

I don’t want to talk about this.

You never do.

-

Jaskier decides to go back to his job. He says goodbye to Ciri and wishes her safety. Yennifer catches him before he leaves and tells him to expect a visit. She also calls him a lout.

-

Lios is waiting in his office. She tells him she won’t bother him anymore. He smiles sadly, and tell her that he doesn’t believe her.

-

She keeps her promise. 

He follows the pulls for the rest of his life. Only feeling the magic build when Yennifer is about to visit. He always makes sure her favorite tea is ready, and just a tad too hot.

Cirilla visits with Yennifer sometimes.

-

His magic wasn’t his own. It takes his whole life to realize that it was only a consolation for being the willing pawn of destiny.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Part 3

The bass was making your body vibrate. The panthers on stage became bigger and bigger and your eyes along with them. You felt so light and painless that the air was leaving your lungs and it was as if all the air next to you wasn’t entering your body but surrounding it, enveloping it, lifting you from the floor. The music was acting as a hymn, giving you a feeling of empowerment and strength that you hadn’t known in such a long time you had forgotten it. 

And then the main tune of Dionysus came and the cameras focused on the stage and you stopped breathing. You were in a way prepared for this. You knew perfectly well who started the song, but he looked so… healthy, so active, so him that you couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing. You had spent months worrying about him, about his change of expression every time one of their dances became a bit more strenuous than he could stand, or when one of the boys so much as hugged him tighter than usual. The Jung Hoseok you were seeing now, singing and dancing his heart out on top of a wheeled table had nothing to do with the tired person you had been worrying over for months. His skin was glowing so much, combined with the red microphone and his suit… he was a sight to behold. And you were doing exactly that. Your ears muted to the rest of the world,  you saw only him, you saw how he was feeling like himself again, how his facial expressions changed with every dance move and how his body hit every single drop of the beat to the millisecond. His hair, though styled to perfection, moved around him and cackled with electricity. He was glowing.

So engrossed you were on what was happening on the stage, you couldn’t have seen Hyejin’s face, how she looked at you as if she had never seen you before and started noticing all the changes you were seeing with your own two eyes on you. She only remembered seeing you like this years ago, before you started taking pills and looking gloomy and in pain. She used to see you like this when you arrived at the office after dancing, full of energy and radiant. Looking around, she noticed how no one had noticed something special, but then again, BTS were out on stage and when they performed everyone stopped and watched. 

How could someone be, look so powerful when mere days before looked as if they had dragged themselves from the grave? His change of attitude began to be noticeable and people began chanting his name, forgetting about the actual fan chants and going all out until the only thing louder than his name was his voice delivering his verse in Not Today. The air around you was electrifying and you weren’t sure what the reason for that was, but you weren’t about to question it. You shouted with the rest of the stadium, jumped and danced with Hyejin like there was no tomorrow. A succession of their songs blessed your ears, one after the other and you enjoyed them to the fullest. But never as much as when a certain member was out on stage.

You were so emotional and so out of it that you didn’t notice the first notes of Outro: Tear until the rest of ARMY were losing their mind over Namjoon going up in the platform. Now you knew something was weird. You couldn’t even see Hoseok from where you were standing but you knew exactly where he was. There was a pressure on your body to move towards him, to go to where he was and envelop him in your arms. And just when he came out and the big screen got him on camera you lost it as well. How could he be glowing so much, his eyes were piercing your soul through a giant screen. Were you dehydrated, had the sun messed with your head? Had you taken one too many pills and were having hallucinations? Because you could have sworn your whole soul was screaming out his name. 

On a normal day, you were just the normal ARMY, feeling a bit happier when any of the seven did something, posted something on SNS. You didn’t like one of them more than the next, but today, oh today, you were hanging on Hoseok’s every move and word as if you were a woman starving and he was the last meal on the planet. Okay, that sounded wrong, were you really that delirious?

Along with the people around you, you screamed your lungs out, danced and continued to question your sanity through every gesture, dance move and smile this man directed in your general direction. Because he was fixated with your section. You heard somewhere that they decide what section of the venue each of them is gonna focus on beforehand, and then they rotated but this was insane. It was as if he was being pulled like a magnet, no matter the song, his position on the stage, whenever they interacted a bit with ARMY, you had J-hope standing in front of you in all his glory. 

During the pause to wait for the encore, you sat down. How was it that you had so much energy? How had you been giving it your all for HOURS and not fainted out of pain? 

“You were on fire before, Y/n-ah!!” Said Hyejin after drinking a bit of water. “I swear, if Hobi hasn’t noticed you yet, those stage lights must be stronger than I thought”.

You only laughed, incredibly happy that you were there, with her, surrounded by ARMYs who were enjoying just as much as you were and, on top of everything, with BTS.

Today was a day you wouldn’t forget easily.

Before the encore found the seven members of BTS getting dressed in comfortable clothes backstage. Six of them were watching Hoseok jumping up and down, trying to burn the energy coursing through him.

“I think he has been possessed…” whispered Yoongi, loud enough for all to hear him, but Hobi didn’t seem to pay him any mind. He just kept moving, smiling and jumping, all of it without breaking into a sweat.

“How… Just how is he so… Hobi without painkillers?” Wondered Namjoon. “All of you watched him dancing as his life depended on it or was it just me?”

“Nah,” answered Seokjin, “I saw him practically glued to the left section of stage B, he looked as if he was gonna jump off the stage.” Jin facepalmed just as Hoseok started asking one of the staffs if they could already go up on stage.

“But Jungkook and Jimin are not ready yet…” answered a flustered and puzzled staff member.

Hoseok turned his eyes to a specific direction and touched his chest, just above his heart. Suddenly, there was a noise and everyone turned to see a dumbfounded Taehyung looking at Hoseok as if he had grown a second head, coffee cup staining the floor. Stuttering, he approached his hyung and, taking him by the shoulders turned him in the direction he was looking before. The rest of BTS surrounded them, no need for more people to start looking at those two as if they were insane, better safe than sorry, they say.

“Hyung, why were you looking in this direction before?” Asked a worried Taehyung.

“I don’t know…” wondered aloud Hoseok. “I just know I want to go that way. My chest is not hurting anymore, but it’s pulling me forward,” he moved his right hand forward, pointing over Tae’s shoulder, “in that direction.”

After that, some of the other members seemed to catch on. They looked to Taehyung expectantly, at how he couldn’t stop looking at Hoseok’s chest, and then turn around and look at the wall puzzled. 

They got the call to go up on stage for Anpanman and Hoseok instantly forgot about Tae and the rest of his members in favour of jumping back to the door and rush through the corridors to get to the platform. He was so excited that he nearly knocked off their feet every person he encountered on his way, but with a loud ‘sorry’ he kept waling forward. Once the seven of them were ready to go up to stage B, Taehyung looked back and nodded, resolute. He was practically sure, he just needed to check something.

The music started blasting through their in-ears and the seven men put on their professional faces and stage names and up they went. 

The crowd went mad, but that was nothing new. What Taehyung was looking for was among the masses on the right side of the stage, but the lights were too bright and shining directly on his face, to distinguish any face, let alone a thin red thread. Hoseok was already stuck to that side of the stage, and none of the rest of the members had the heart to tell him to move to another place. He did his job really well, moving to the centre of the stage when it was his time to rap, the choreographies were all on point and he hyped up ARMY like any of them were doing, even better. The crowd had obviously noticed how he was a changed man and he had been the man of the night since the moment he stood proud on top of the table at the beginning of Dionysus. There was no denying that something had happened, something that none of them had witnessed in the months or even years when Hobi had been a gloomy mess. And he would be damned, Taehyung thought, if he left the venue today without finding out the cause of his brother’s euphoria… No pun intended. So when the new bouncy castle was inflated and it was safe for them to go up, he was the first one to climb the plastic steps and stand on top looking around. Half his mind was occupied on not forgetting the lyrics and the cues he had to follow not to mess up the song, the other half only occupied on following Hobi hyung around the stage, trying to see where the other end of the red string ended. Frustrated, he slid down from the castle next to Jiminie and continued the concert, more frustrated than ever with the lights hitting his face. 

It wasn’t until the mobile phone wave just before Mikrokosmos that he was able to see clearly and with his eyes widening, he was able to see a girl, a couple of rows away from the stage, proudly sporting a Mang headband and literally glowing. She was the only one in her row not putting her flashlight up, she was just looking at them, at Hobi hyung, if he was correct, with her hands clasped tightly atop her heart, with clear eyes and the brightest smile he had ever seen in someone that wasn’t Hoseok. She had to be it, the person he had been looking for during the concert. If his theory was correct, she was the one causing the change in his hyung’s behaviour and the improvement of his health. Euphoric, he was the one now who couldn’t stop smiling, and it didn’t matter as much that this was the final concert of their tour, and it would be some months still before they got to meet ARMY again. He was still sad and emotional, but the sole thought of his hyung being okay again changed everything. 

The final chords of Mikrokosmos sounded finally, they did the customary bows and down on the platform they were. The concert was over, the fireworks and the drones were adorning the sky, and he wasted no time in taking out his in-ears and reaching Hoseok, at the same time collecting the rest of the members that had dispersed around, drinking water, discarding pieces of jewellery or clothing. Once the seven of them were forming a circle, Taehyung looked at each and every one of them in the eyes and whispered.

“She’s here, I saw the string disappearing into her chest, and she was as hyper as Hoseok hyung here,” the surprise in the rest of their faces was substituted by trepidation and slowly fading into determination, “she’s wearing a Mang headband and I would recognise her if I saw her again, we need to find her tonight.”

Six heads nodded and each went their way to change as fast as they possibly could. Namjoon took it upon himself to talk to manager Sejin and everyone he knew they could trust. Their manager sent some people out first to try and find the girl, but they all knew that who they really needed was Taehyung, and now more than ever, now that Hoseok was starting to show signs of pain again. His soulmate was leaving the venue, and with her were leaving the possibilities of a healthy and happy Hoseok.

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 3

A/n: After I made you wait an eternity, here is part 3 finally 😆😆😆 I've been having two exams a week since the 10th of January, so you can imagine how busy (nearly at the point of pulling my hair out😀) I've been :) I hope you like this update, and let's chat!! I missed you guys❤️💜

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

Love 💜🌙

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @threedecadesofawkward @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimist7 @lyssjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85 @threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc

[honeypressed]

fools

Genre: fluff, minor angst??

Pairings: jaehyun (nct) x female reader

Word count: 6k

Warnings: N/A

Notes: this is for @solilogyu bc i need to make her realise that she eventually needs to accept her Feelings for a certain valentines boy + i also realise its way past valentines but hey what can u do + i have no fucking idea about bowling. i had to wikihow. please dont hurt me i hope you can enjoy this and cait i hope you scream <3

//

“I don’t think she likes me.”

It takes a while for anyone to respond to Jaehyun’s somewhat depressing statement, because half of them are engaged in shouting at each other while playing PUBG, and the other half are trying to do their homework. It is Yuta who responds first, bless him.

“Who? Who are we talking about exactly?”

Jaehyun takes back his words, that bastard. “You know who I’m talking about!” Jaehyun groans, rubbing his palms over his face and slumping back in his chair, homework long forgotten in front of him.

Yuta flicks a bit of eraser shavings at him, just to annoy him a little bit more. “And you can just ask her out to find out if she actually likes you or not, idiot,” Yuta says as-a-matter-of-factly, like Jaehyun’s dignity doesn’t rest on the fact that he cannot ask her out just like that.

“I can’t do that!” Jaehyun cries, frustrated and he swears he’s going to tear his hair out first before it falls out anyway because he’s just bleached it for the fifth time in three months.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck pipes up from where he’s sprawled on the floor with Jaemin laying half on top of him, “hyung can’t ask her out because being rejected will damage his frat boy ego. Can’t let anyone know that our dear fuckboy – oops, hyung, was rejected, right?” There’s a mischievous grin on his face because he knows he won’t get into trouble.

“Dong-hyuck!” Jaehyun says, but there’s not one bite in his voice and he grabs his pen just to fiddle with it, spinning it repeatedly.

“Stop that, you’re going to flick it into someone’s face,” Taeyong says sternly, then softens when Jaehyun stops it and starts to bounce his leg instead. “Listen, Jaehyun-ah. If she matters so much to you, it doesn’t matter what other people think of you, or what she thinks of you. She will always be someone precious to you, one way or another.”

“Just take a chance, hyung,” Donghyuck adds, right after he’d sworn at the top of his voice loudly because Jaemin had team-killed him. “You’re gonna regret it so much more if you never asked her out.”

“She doesn’t like me,” Jaehyun repeats, and he knows that’s the truth. There may have been rumours that she liked him, and from the way her friends giggled and looked at him when they walked past, it had given him enough hope that maybe, perhaps, she liked him back just as he did… and yet.

Yet, she never gave him any hope. In the only class that they shared together, she never talked to him unless they were made to have a discussion or were grouped up for projects. And when she did talk to him, it was always polite, no trace of blush on her cheeks, just her calm, steady voice making this economics nonsense make sense to him.

It was not possible. She could not like him back.

That would be too much to hope for, and Jaehyun might be reckless but he isn’t a fool. And somehow, in some ways, he is also a fool – to fall for her steady voice and bright eyes and soft hair and softer smile and –

He is a fool.

//

As much of a frat boy that Jaehyun looks like, all his friends know he’s secretly a romantic, notwithstanding Valentine’s birthday at all. Which is why, against all of his hope and logic, he decides he should write her a letter. Anonymously, of course, which all his friends protest hotly against.

“How will she know if you write it anonymously?” Johnny asks incredulously, and they’re bickering in whispers even though the common room is full of people chattering loudly.

“I just want to gauge her reaction!” Jaehyun hisses, and his eyes dart around the world, flitting from one person to the next and hoping neither she nor any of her ten thousand friends are in the room. Why does she have so many friends? That always have to be around her in a gaggle? Jaehyun is tired of flushing to the tips of his ears when he walks past, and they start giggling. (it’s just unnerving, he insists; johnny tells anyone with half an ear to spare that he’s shy.)

“And I gauge that you are an idiot,” Johnny concludes, calmly and then says in a much louder voice, “The Valentine’s Box is just there, Jaehyun! Why don’t you post your letter?”

Jaehyun has half a mind to tackle Johnny to the ground; the other half is contemplating how hard it could be to sink into the carpet and never rise again. Johnny’s words had attracted some curious glances, and then they settled to watch him, interested.

“Wow, thanks,” Jaehyun deadpans, but he walks up to the box and drops his letter in before he books it to the door with Johnny in tow.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Jaehyun starts to bemoan, “the worst thing. I’m so bad at this, I’ll just never move on from her and then I’ll live out the rest of my life being alone –“

“Oh, hello.”

Jaehyun comes to a screeching halt, just inches away from – her. She’s put her hair down today and – it’s silver. When did she bleach and dye her hair? He can already feel his ears start to become hot, and he wills himself to calm down.

“Hi,” Jaehyun says, and his voice cracks on the single syllable.

She laughs a little, just the tiniest little thing that Jaehyun wants to hear again and again. “How was the econs test? I didn’t expect the 25 mark question to be so vague.”

Economics? What the fuck is that? Jaehyun can hardly say hi, let alone try to make his brain think about economics and free trade agreements and transfer pricing.

“Oh, yeah, yeah it was. So vague. I just – scribbled something down. I think I talked about the transnational corporations at one point? I’m not sure, I don’t think I’ll do well,” Jaehyun says, managing to not stumble over his words and feeling so awkward with his hands because he doesn’t know where to put them.

“I did too! I wasn’t sure if that was the correct choice, but I didn’t know what else to write… oh, did you post something into the box?” She asks suddenly, and Jaehyun’s heartbeat goes from slightly above average to notching at one hundred in two seconds.

“Um – yeah. Yes. I did. Just – yeah. I did.”

She doesn’t seem to take notice of his flustered state, but Johnny is making stupid expressions at him behind her and Jaehyun swears to the highest powers out there that he’s going to bury Johnny and his six-foot ass into the ground later.

“Hmm, I think I should as well. If the school’s popular guy sent a lucky girl something then perhaps, we should all join in, right?”

Jaehyun’s words dry in his throat. “What… popular?”

She snorts and pats his arm – a little condescendingly, Jaehyun would say. “Yes, popular, you frat boy. Now I think we have to move, we’re blocking people.” For a moment, her hand lingers on his arm and the warmth bleeds through his shirt and it’s like all his nerve endings suddenly concentrate in that part of his body only. And then – she smiles.

It’s like nothing Jaehyun’s ever seen before. Her eyes crinkle up sweetly, and her cheeks bunch up and someone accidentally switches on more lights in the room and they bathe her in white light, and it reflects against the silver of her hair. She cannot be from this world, and Jaehyun is hallucinating.

Pretty, Jaehyun’s mind helpfully supplies. So, so pretty.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” She says, and then her hand leaves his arm and the lights are dimmed again and all he’s left with is the glint of her silver hair making its way through the common room to a corner where all her friends have clustered.

“Wow,” Johnny says, wolfish smile, and Jaehyun punches him in the arm for good measure. He can’t pretend like he’s not flustered, but he’s also happy because that was the only time they had ever interacted outside classes, and if half an hour later, he can still feel warm where she touched him… that’s only for him to know.

//

“19 years old!” Sicheng says cheekily, sidling up to Jaehyun on the morning of Valentine’s day as Jaehyun is sorting through the books in his locker. “How does it feel to be old?” Sicheng’s acting like he isn’t the same age, turning nineteen in October, but Jaehyun overlooks it because one, Sicheng is cute and two, everyone loves Sicheng. It’s just the rules.

“You mean, how does it feel to be pining over someone for 6 months?” Johnny sings, and slowly, the hallway starts filling up with students, all chattering in low tones about their day, or if they had bought roses or sent a letter. It only makes Jaehyun remember he’s sent her a letter.

Jaehyun glares at him. “It’s my birthday. You have to be nice to me, that’s the law.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, then hands him a small, wrapped box. “Whatever. Happy birthday, Jaehyun-ah. You’ll get the dozen of roses I bought for you later,” He adds, winking cheesily, and Jaehyun pretends to balk.

“What, one for every year we’ve known each other?” Jaehyun asks dryly.

“Oh, here’s mine too!” Sicheng says, and rummages around in his bag before producing a soft, wrapped parcel with a note attached to it.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says, and reaches over to hug Sicheng. Johnny makes an outraged sound, and starts going off on a spiel about how Jaehyun never appreciates anything and I spent so long picking out this present and I don’t even get a simple thank you! and it’s all really so entertaining but then a steady, familiar voice cuts through the dramatic of Johnny’s monologue.

“Am I interrupting something?” The voice asks, amused, and Jaehyun thinks both his brain and heart stops for a second.

“Oh, not at all,” Johnny says, quick to react.

“Nothing at all,” Sicheng adds, very helpfully. “In fact, Johnny-hyung and I were going to get coffee! Right?”

Johnny nods enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Now, if you will excuse us, we have some very important business to attend to.” He offers the crook of his arm very seriously to Sicheng, who accepts it and then they go off into the hallway and the turn to the vending machines so that Jaehyun is left – with her.

“I see you’ve already got Valentine’s gifts,” She says, smiling a little as she spots the two packaged in his hands.

“Ah, this – it’s just presents, from my friends,” Jaehyun explains hastily. “I… don’t think anyone got me Valentine’s gifts, anyway. Or if they do, they say that it’s a present. It’s kind of a shitty move, isn’t it?” He remarks, a little hollow because he can reject Valentine’s Day presents all right but to reject what someone he doesn’t know insists is a birthday gift… Jaehyun doesn’t want to be guilt-tripped into accepting something.

And all of a sudden, something changes in her expression. It’s like something he’s said that’s acted as a light switch, and her soft, open expression is suddenly schooled into something alarmingly like steel.

“I see. Well, I just wanted to tell you happy birthday. See you,” She says hastily, and then turns around where she came from. For two seconds, Jaehyun is sure he sees something in her hand that she then clutches to her chest, but then she’s walking away and – and Jaehyun is too shocked to do anything other than stare after her.

What did he say? What did he do? Did he have something in his teeth – or did he do his hair weirdly today?

Jaehyun spends the next ten minutes contemplating about whether he should just go and ask the student council to take his note out so it won’t be sent, and then the next ten minutes as he walks to class wondering why he ever chose to have a crush in the first place. It’s unnecessary, too much work, and not good for his heart.

Except his mind reminds him a couple beats later that she is clever, and kind and patient, and her eyes make the ugly florescent lamps look like a million stars and she can explain ridiculous concepts to him that actually make sense. She’s funny and laughs a bit too loudly and her friends look at him weird but all of that is her and god, Jaehyun is so whipped.

It’s fine, he convinces himself when class finally starts and he blinds the teacher with a charming smile so she won’t notice his homework is half-assed when he hands it in. He won’t be there when she receives the letter, and anyway, she won’t know it was him because it’s anonymous. It’ll be fine.

//

Everything is about to be a little less fine.

“Jung Jaehyun.”

It’s lunch time, and Jaehyun’s barely managed to step into the cafeteria before he’s accosted by one of her friends. He smiles at her and tries to remember her name – Hyerin? Hyolin? Fuck, this isn’t going well already.

“Hello,” He says nervously.

“We have to meet up for the discussion for the debate team now, remember? Have you written your opening speech?”

“Right,” Jaehyun says, the realisation dawning over him abruptly. “I’ve done it, don’t worry. Is it okay if I grab a sandwich and I’ll meet you in the common room? I’ve got the speech written on my phone.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. The rest of the team is waiting there as well.” She waves a hand at him – Jaehyun still does not remember her name – and she exits, leaving Jaehyun to blink after her and make his way to the section where cold lunch is available.

“Hi, hyung. Are you going somewhere with Hyunae?” It’s Mark, who’s eating lunch with the younger ones in their ridiculous circle of friends, and they’re all looking at him with wide, eager eyes. Jaehyun feels very much attacked, like he’s surrounded by a bunch of wolves.

“’Ve got debate team,” Jaehyun mumbles, blindly reaching for a sandwich and then picking a fruit for good measure.

“Well, the letters are being delivered now, hyung,” Renjun says, smiling so sweetly that Jaehyun thinks he can trust Renjun for one second until he remembers that Renjun’s on the student council.

Jaehyun narrows his eyes. “And?”

Renjun blinks at him. “What do you mean? I’m just telling you… information that could potentially be really useful to you in the next half an hour or so. Also, you’re about to drop your sandwich.”

Jaehyun squints at them one last time before he backs out the door of the cafeteria. The moment he leaves, he swears he hears a wave of guffaws coming from them, and the tips of his ears burn. One day the Dreamies will get themselves into trouble and he won’t save them, that’ll teach them. (of course he will. everyone’s got a soft spot for the dreamies, including him, and if helping them means he gets into trouble he will gladly do so. just – no one can know about this.)

The common room only has a few students mulling about, presumably because everyone else is eating lunch, and so Jaehyun makes his way over to the corner where his team is settled. They’re all eating lunch and there are papers spread out on the table in front of them, half eating and half discussing.

“You’re here,” Hyunae cheers as Jaehyun sits down. “We were waiting for your opening speech so that Minjun can correct his since he’s going after you.”

“Sorry – here, I’ll just forward it to you guys.” Jaehyun fiddles with his phone for a little before phones start pinging with the document he’s forwarded.

“Alright,” Minjun starts, but as soon as he starts to talk, the common room door opens and people start filing in, laughing and talking, and everyone sighs collectively. But it doesn’t even stop there – a few members of the student council come in right after that, each holding a package of letters and eyes darting around the room looking for their targets.

Jaehyun’s so distracted by the sudden influx of people and noise that he doesn’t notice her settling in a sofa next to his group.

“Hey, having fun, Hyunae?” She calls and laughs when Hyunae makes a face. Then she catches his eye, and she smiles at him, just a little, small one that is no less precious than the one he saw a couple days ago. He has to smile back and then tear his eyes away before the red in his ears transfer to his cheeks.

Just in time, a member of the student council – Myungsoo – comes to their group and starts handing out letters. “Is Minjun-ssi here… alright, here are yours. Oh – Daehyun, here are some for you…” He fiddles around and hands them around.

Jaehyun doesn’t really expect to receive any, and yet Myungsoo really has the audacity to hand over the rest of his stack to Jaehyun. “Here you go!” Myungsoo says cheerfully, “This is all yours, Jaehyun-ah.” Then he winks at Jaehyun and goes off with barely contained laughter as Jaehyun lobs some of his orange peel at Myungsoo.

Ignoring his teammates giggling and nudging him, he flicks through the letters slowly, seeing names on them. They’re all from his friends, including a collective one from the Dreamies that he immediately opens, only to see that all it says is Valentine’s in big letters and – it’s even spelled wrong. Still, he can’t help but grin, seeing their messy signatures scrawled at the bottom, and he puts it away to sort through the remaining pile of mess on his lap.

Johnny has sent one, a thick envelope that Jaehyun is sure is full of glitter; then the rest are all named, Taeyong and Yuta and Jungwoo and Sicheng, just to name a few, and then – there’s one with no name.

It’s a plain blank envelope, with his name written in neat, dark ink and the words are pressed so hard into the letter that they seem like engravings. Jaehyun frowns – the handwriting looks familiar, but he can’t seem to place it.

With his teammates equally as distracted by the letters, Jaehyun decides he can open this particular letter now. He unfolds the envelope, and he feels an unusual sense of peace, like two pieces of his life are about to slide into place in a few moments, and then he slides the piece of paper inside out. The words are inked so hard that the back of the letter feels like an engraving, and god, the writing is so, so familiar.

Even as Jaehyun reads over the letter – the contents simple, just, ‘I like you, but I know you don’t, so I just want to confess to you to get over my feelings. And happy birthday as well, Jaehyun-ah. Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope the lucky person who gets your letter receives it well.’ – he is completely distracted by where he’s seen this writing before.

It isn’t until he sees her stand up to receive a couple of letters that it clicks.

It can’t be.

It cannot be.

No way – the same letters on this letter – and the letters he’s seen countless times before in Economics – the way they’re pressed so hard onto paper – but there isn’t a signature at the end of the letter? – and… and can it really be her?

Jaehyun’s heart is in his throat as he reads the letter again, this time going over the words, and she likes him too and god, he almost wants to stand up and go over there and ask if this letter is from her, but he’s frozen and suddenly she’s standing up and looking around her frantically and then she sees him, and their eyes lock onto each other and she gestures to go outside, clutching some letters to her chest.

Jaehyun doesn’t even think about it, just ups and leaves the common room behind her and then they’re in the relatively quiet hallway and it’s like this morning all over again.

“You – this is yours?” She asks, and there’s a degree of hesitation to her words, like she doesn’t believe it.

Jaehyun takes a look at the letter she holds out. “Yes. It’s me.” He doesn’t know what else he can say when his heart has already stopped beating and then she’s looking at him, eyes brighter than the fluorescent hallway lights and he thinks he forgets how to breathe as well.

“It’s not a prank, is it?” She says, and her voice is so small Jaehyun wants to shake her. “You’re not – writing this for fun, are you?”

“Did you write this for fun, then?” Jaehyun asks in return, and shows her the letter. His hand is shaking but that’s inconsequential.

“No!” She says, tearing her eyes away from the letter to land on his face, then his shoulder then somewhere behind him. “I didn’t – I didn’t. That was – what I felt. I just, I don’t understand why – I don’t… you don’t –“

And then all Jaehyun can do is to look into her eyes and then the first thing he says is, “Transfer pricing.”

She looks at him again at that, startled by the sudden mention of their classes. “What?”

“Transfer pricing. Just – at the beginning of the term, we were learning about transfer pricing and god, I didn’t understand one single words from our bullshit teacher but then we were in a group and you explained it so well to me and I just…” He trails off and pushes a hand through his hair, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he tries to put his feelings into words.

“You were so nice to me,” He finally says. “You were so patient and kind, even though you didn’t need to do any of that and you’re also really funny. And, I guess it helps that you’re pretty,” He finishes, and his face must be in flames, but he’s said it and it’s done.

But then – she’s blushing. His eyesight is not as bad as Kun’s or Sicheng’s or Lucas’, so he must be seeing it right. She’s blushing. There is red in her cheeks and she refuses to meet his eyes and god, she’s so fucking cute.

“I hate you, Jung Jaehyun,” She finally says, but she’s looking at him with red cheeks and a small smile and her silver hair spills messily onto the side of her shoulder and – Jaehyun thinks his crush is running deeper than he initially thought.

“Change your mind?” Jaehyun offers with a sudden rush of courage he doesn’t know came from where. “This weekend, I’ll take you bowling, at the alley by the beach. What do you think?”

“Is this a date, Jung?” She asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Jaehyun admits, “and I’d be really, really happy if you said yes, because I like you too.”

And then, she smiles again. Bright and loud and it curls the corners of her mouth and Jaehyun wants to imprint this one moment into his mind for the rest of his life. “Well, you’re lucky, because I want to make you happy, Jaehyun,” She says, and then Jaehyun can feel the smile stretching his own lips, so wide but still not enough to convey the leap of his heart.

For now, this will have to be enough until the weekend.

//

Don’t crash, don’t crash, don’t run a red light, Jaehyun reminds himself as he drives through the streets, glancing at his phone every now and then to check he’s going the right way. He’s hands feel oddly cold even though it’s approaching spring and he jacks up the heating in his car a little more.

It’s Saturday, just after lunch, and there are no cars on the street. It’s a refreshing change from the usual jams of morning or evening when he drives to or from school, but it’s also refreshing because – he’s going to pick her up.

For a date.

Just the thought makes him nervous and excited in equal parts, and he nearly misses taking a right turn because of it. She had texted him to pick her up at two, but he’s already here and it’s just ten to, so he thinks he’s got some spare time to kill. Right at the same moment, his phone chimes with a notification so he parks his car by the side of the road and checks it.

[13:49] you’re coming at 2 right?

[13:49] I’m ready so you can pick me up anytime ^^

[13:50] oh

[13:50] if you’re ready I’m here

[13:50] but don’t rush!!

[13:51] take your time, I can wait for you ^~^

[13: 54] no no that’s fine

[13:54] I’m ready anyway

[13:55] and it’s almost 2

[13:55] I’ll be coming out~~

Jaehyun has five minutes to calm down and not make himself seem like a fool in front of her. Tall order, considering how jittery he’s already been when he’s around her – and they’re together a lot more often now. Since Valentine’s Day, they’d spent a fair few lunchtimes together and hung out once after classes at the convenience store.

Jaehyun had bought her an ice-cream bar, only for her to snort and then eat it.

“What?” Jaehyun had asked, bewildered.

“I’m kinda lactose intolerant,” She says, shrugging. Half of the ice cream bar is gone.

Jaehyun panics. “You’re what? Stop eating the ice cream then!”

“Too late,” She sings, throwing the wooden stick away and laughing. “I really don’t mind, I’ll just suffer. How can I not eat it when you’ve bought it for me?”

He had ended up buying her two samgak kimbaps to make up for it, and they’d sat on the bench in the nearby park to eat.

Jaehyun remembers every moment fondly, but then he sees her stepping out from her house, locking the door behind her and jogging up to his car with a small smile on her face. He fumbles to unlock the car and then she slips into the passenger seat and turns to him with a bright smile.

“Hello! This is for you.” She hands him a small bouquet of daisies and then reaches over, busies herself with putting her seatbelt on.

Jaehyun’s clutching the flowers and there’s heat coming into his cheeks and he has to pass an arm over his face because he’s blushing and he’s blushing hard because he likes her so much and she brought him flowers and – wow, he’s really in this deep, huh.

“Are you blushing? Have I made the infamous Jung Jaehyun blush?” She asks, teasing in her voice but her cheeks are red too and she looks pleased.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun eventually says, when his voice has returned. “These are really pretty, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” She says softly, and then right there, in the quiet between them in the car, in the late afternoon sun, Jaehyun thinks maybe he falls in love. It’s simple, like the dawn of the sun and the set of it, the formation of clouds and the fall of rain, the wilt of winter and then the bloom of spring; everything is simple and their course has been set.

The sun shines so bright on the tarmac that Jaehyun has to pull down the sun visor, but her laughter is brighter in his ears and when he looks over at her at the red lights, she is already looking at him, ruby lips and diamond eyes and Jaehyun doesn’t want this moment to end.

They pull into the parking lot just as it’s half past, and by the time he’s killed the engine and gotten all his stuff together, she has gotten out of the car and has opened the door for him. As he gets out, she bows very seriously and even curtsies a little.

He stares at her and she at him, challenging, but then they burst into laughter two seconds later, and it is only natural that he takes her hand, interlacing their fingers as they walk into the bowling alley.

When they get it, they pay and get their shoes, and then bicker about which bowling balls they get to have, and Jaehyun eventually relents, lets her have the bowling balls she prefers. He only does so because he knows he’s absolutely going to smash her score regardless of whatever bowling ball he has, and so armed with this confidence, he sits back and lets her make the first roll.

As it turns out, she’s pretty good. She knocks down six, and then another two, and she grins at him smugly.

“Gonna do better than me, Jung?”

“You bet I will,” He returns, and waits for the pins to be set in place before he takes his stance. The movements are safe, and familiar, and when he does let the ball roll, he knows it’ll be a strike before it even hits the pins.

There’s a gasp of surprise from behind him when all the pins topple over, and he only smirks a little to himself as he rolls the second ball, and that scores a spare too.

He goes back to the bench with a too-smug expression on his face, so he deserves the solid hand to his chest from her.

She pouts a little when she concentrates, Jaehyun notes idly, and then the tips of his ears start to burn when he realises what he’s doing.

Still, she doesn’t give up, just concentrates and then rolls a perfect middle, knocking down all the pins. She lets out a little victorious, “Yes!” and then makes a face at him before going in for her second throw. Jaehyun is distracted by the silver of her hair that he doesn’t see she makes a seven and that it’s his turn to throw.

“Stop spacing out,” She says, kicking at his feet as she sits down, “it doesn’t look good on you.”

“I look good in everything,” He protests, and then scores a nine.

“Boo! Stop hyping yourself up, frat boy.”

“I can’t hype myself up when I’m naturally talented,” Jaehyun argues, but then he’s distracted as he makes the roll and he messes it up slightly. Of course he would.

He may be good at bowling, but she is stupid competitive and also petty as hell, so her scores start to catch up with him as they play, and he has to actually play really, really well to stay in the lead. She overtakes him at one point in the seventh frame, and he only manages to pull ahead in the ninth frame, at which she glares at him hotly for.

It’s his last throw now, and he has to make it count.

With the burn of her gaze on the back of his neck, he goes in for the last throw – and all the pins are knocked down. Letting out a loud whoop of glee, he turns to face her, hands on his hips and grinning smugly as she rolls her eyes at him.

“You won by a five-point difference!” She says as they turn their shoes in. “That’s not a significant difference, that was luck –“

“I won fair and square,” Jaehyun says, and then ties the trailing lace of her other shoe because she couldn’t be bothered. “Stop being so petty, you can beat me next time.”

“Oh you bet I will, Jung,” She says, just the tiniest bit of sulking in her voice. It’s both endearing and adorable for him to look at her sulking over a five-point difference in their bowling scores, so instead he pulls her to the fast food restaurant next door.

“C’mon, let’s get some fries,” He says, taking her by the wrist and dragging her out slightly. “Stop being so grumpy, it doesn’t look good on you,” He adds, repeating what she told him a couple hours ago, and she snorts, then aims a soft punch at his arm.

“Where are we going after this?” She asks as they wait in line to buy the fries, and she’s moved her hand to hold his properly. She’s not looking at him and is studying the menu board very studiously, so he squeezes her hand a little in return.

“I thought we could go walk on the beach, since it’s right next to the building. And the sun’s almost setting so it’ll be pretty nice. What do you think?”

She sighs, rubs a thumb over his. “Stop being so good at everything, Jung. You’re going to make me actually like you.”

“That is the point though, isn’t it?” Jaehyun teases, then lets go of her hand to pull her into his side, slipping his arm around her waist. “Do you wanna get two packets of fries?”

Her cheeks are red but she doesn’t stutter over her words. “Ah – isn’t it cheaper to get one big one? We can share…” She trails off, like she’s just realised how romantic that could be; Jaehyun jumps on her silence and capitalises on it.

“Yes, yes you’re right. Let’s… hello, can I get one large fries, please? Yes, it’s just that… thank you.” He has to let go of her waist to fiddle with his wallet and take the change and receipt, but as soon as he stows his wallet away again, she slips her arm through his and leans in close.

“Next time I’m gonna beat your ass at bowling,” She says, side-eyeing him. “No mercy.”

“You keep trying, babe,” Jaehyun says, the pet name slipping out carelessly as he watches the screen carefully as so not to miss their order.

“Babe?” She asks a beat later, in a slightly strangled voice.

“Oh – sorry, it just slipped out. Do you like it – are you comfortable with it?”

“Stop being so cute for two seconds, Jung Jaehyun!” She hisses, but there is only adoration in her eyes, tenderness on her lips.

“I’ll stop being so cute if you stop being so pretty,” Jaehyun replies sweetly, and right then, under the shitty lights of some fast food restaurant, he can only see her, her silver hair and bright eyes and small smile, and he only looks away when their order number is called out.

They collect their fries and head out, going round the back of the building to where an expanse of sand stretches out before them before the waves come up to lap at the shore. The sun has just started to set, casting a soft orange glow around them so that the sand shines golden and the waves are coloured red and yellow.

Her arm is tucked in his and she holds the fries as they start to stroll slowly along the beach, fries bursting salty over their tongues and hot in the mild cold of the coming spring.

It’s peaceful, and the silence isn’t awkward; it’s calming after the rush of their bowling game, and Jaehyun doesn’t think it could have gone any better. He hadn’t ever expected anything to come out of this crush of his, and yet here he is, on the beach with his crush’s arm in his and her hair glowing its own moonlight.

“It’s so nice out here,” She says quietly, and a soft smile comes over her face. “I’d forgotten how nice it was to come out here. Thank you for bringing me here,” She adds, looking up at him, and he’s so distracted instantly, his focus going from everywhere around him to only her, pinpricks of his nerves all focused on her.

Which is why he yelps and drops some of the last fries in his hands when a seagull suddenly squawks loudly, obnoxiously somewhere overhead.

“Your face,” Is all she says before she starts laughing, snorting so hard she’s bent over and stumbling as they continue to walk along the beach. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe you got scared of a bird, Jaehyun! What else is going to scare you? And you wasted those fries, what a shame.”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun says, pouting a little.

“You big baby,” She says, smiling and poking his dimple lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any big, bad seagulls that want to steal your fries.” Jaehyun takes a look at the box of fries, notes that there are only a few more left, and then he makes his decision.

He spins them so they’re face to face, her hand still on his cheek and now he winds an arm around her waist and the other cups the back of her neck gently, feels the softness of her hair as it spills through his fingertips like molten silver.

“Jaehyun?” She asks, quiet, and her hand moves to cup his jaw; the other is braced on his shoulder, the box of fries just barely held between her fingertips – he can feel it pressing against his arm.

“You know, I didn’t think I would ever get to take you out on a date,” Jaehyun starts, voice low and tone reverent. “I just thought – you were too good. I didn’t think I could actually try and get you to like me. Do you… think it worked?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then she’s looking at him, really looking at him, eyes bright and beautiful and she’s starting to smile, the curling of the edge of her lips into her cheeks.

“You, Jung Jaehyun… I hate you the most, really,” She says, but she’s breathless and there is pink in her cheeks and her hair is a mirror and her hand is still warm on his cheek and there is no bite to her words.

“Glad to know the feeling’s mutual,” Jaehyun says, and his eyes crinkle into a pretty smile and his dimples are so deep she thinks it holds all the love he has for his friends, his family, everyone. She looks up again and there’s warmth blazing in his eyes and her heart is a rapid succession of thumpthumpthump that she hopes he can’t hear.

“Would your feelings change any further if I kiss you?” Jaehyun whispers now, and it’s like the whole world stops for a moment, and everything that matters is only them.

“Why don’t you find out?” She murmurs, so close against him that her words feel like the sea breeze against his cheek, and then – he kisses her.

It’s the sea breeze and the setting sun and the rush of the waves and the grains of sands in their shoes; it is all and everything and now and forever; it is warm even though it is cold and it is home even though they’re the only ones on a bare beach.

“’Ve changed my mind,” She says when they separate, and he can still feel the press of her lips against his. Her eyes are still closed and their foreheads are pressed together. “I think I really like you, Jung Jaehyun.”

She opens her eyes again and Jaehyun only has to look into them one more time to have a bit more bravery.

“Then, be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, Jung.”

[bapyess1r]

PuNK

WARNINGS: cursing

Pairings: Rafe Adler x OC

Tags: @courtenbae , @desertvvitch , @tiecladartist

Chapter 4

Rafe’s POV

Things had been a bit different at work for the next two weeks. Since Samuel had met my assistant, he tended to come around more. Literally just to talk and disturb her from her duties. Almost always, I’d have to call him into my office or give her something to do. Send her on pointless errands. It was rather annoying. The way he’d lean over her desk and spill whatever horseshit he could think of. The way she gave him that dimpled smile back at him, completely under his spell. How he’d make her laugh and she would place a hand on his arm. It bothered me and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t exactly figure out why though. Ever since he put those words into my head, I tended to seek her out. When I was stressed at work, I found myself just looking at her and it would somehow put me at ease. Sometimes I’d be discreet about it, other times she’d catch me. And when she did, she’d ask if I was okay or if I needed something. I’d always tell her to worry about her work. However, the fact that she even cared enough to ask was nice. At night though, she would rush her work or skip things just so she could leave earlier. She never exactly told me what the hurry was but to be fair, I never questioned it. By the end of every night, I just really wanted to be alone.

I had been visiting the punk club every day on the weekends now. I would start paperwork early or just give it up altogether in order to see Floral and Fading. One time, I even took my laptop and a couple of papers with me. And while everyone headbanged and moshed around me, I sipped on whiskey and sent out emails, drawing up forms. Eventually, I started to know a few songs. All the way down to the guitar solos. Every chug of the bass, every rhythm on the drums… And that lead singer. Her voice never faltered, it never cracked. It never failed her, not once. Every night she was looking more and more beautiful to me. If I wanted to sleep with anyone right now, it would be her. I could feel her passion in her music, I could hear the pain and stress in her voice as she sang. Every scream was like a form of release. I could sympathize. One night, I think I even attempted to talk to her after her set. But the band told me she left right after because she had to be at work early in the morning. I cut my losses and chalked it up to a “maybe another night.”

Tonight in particular, the office was rather quiet. Lyric had gotten herself a pair of earphones and had been keeping her wild music to herself. I was a bit disappointed. If I connected with her over anything, it was the music she played at the end of our long and tedious days. I was just getting used to it. But I was rather accustomed to the quiet. Either or was now fine by me. I completed my paperwork rather early for the day and decided to do a bit more research on the whereabouts of the second Saint Dismas cross. It was getting more and more stressful each time I came up with nothing. It was disheartening really. I sighed loudly and ran my fingers through my hair, resting my elbows on my knees with my hands clasped in front of my face.

I closed my eyes for a moment, just to hear the quiet buzz of the lamps around me when my ears honed in on something familiar. A singing voice. It almost sounded exactly like the girl from Floral and Fading. I opened my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining her being in my office in a state of hallucination. But there was no one. No one but Lyric, swaying side to side in her seat as she typed into her computer. She sang along to whatever it was that played in her ears. She didn’t even really think about it. She was just singing. She had a rather lovely voice. It was raspy and deep yet so soft in tone. I found myself staring in her direction as she sang until the song was over. A smile dared to pull on the corner of my lips but I got myself together immediately and went back to work.

Minutes later, she had come into my office with a completed manila folder and dropped it on my desk. I glanced up at her for a moment and back at my laptop screen. “All of it?” I asked cryptically. I could see her nod in my peripheral.

“All of it.” She replied in exhaustion.

“Thank you, Lyric. Anything on the agenda tomorrow?” I asked tiredly.

“You have a 2 o’clock with Mr. Ackles, a 4 o’clock with a Mrs. Starr, and then Mr. Drake is supposed to be here at 7.” She said to me. I looked up briefly to see her blushing a bit when she mentioned Samuel. My stomach turned.

“Uh huh….” was all I could say.

“Might I ask what you two are working on, sir?” She asked me coyly, placing her hands behind her back as I secretly admired her outfit of choice for the day. A sheer black long sleeved blouse with satin black trousers and red heels. Her makeup was done simply but she chose a bold red for her perfect lips. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders like black curtains as she adjusted it to her liking. I leaned back in my seat and hummed. She was quite trustworthy. So I decided to tell her.

“Are you familiar with the name Henry Avery?” I asked her. She might not have even been capable of talking about history of this caliber.

“Isn’t he like a pirate king?” She responded. ‘Cute.’ I thought with a gentle grin.

“Something like that.” I responded, standing up to walk to the front of my desk, crossing my arms and legs as I leaned on it. “Henry Avery was one of the greatest pirates known to man. He pulled one of the most impressive heists and never got caught. However…. nobody can seem to find his treasure.”

“But you and Sam will?” She asked, leaning her lanky limbs and curvy body into the doorway, leaning her head against the wall. She was almost like a picture. Too pretty to be real. I cleared my throat and held my head high.

“All gods willing, yes. I’d like to think that we will.” I responded confidently.

“So then what’s the hold up? You guys have been hackin’ away at this thing for like two weeks.” She said, suddenly dropping her formalities. For the time, I let it be.

“Yes we have. There is a clue as to where to go next. The Saint Dismas cross. Samuel and I found one in old prison ruins in Panama ages ago. But it was hollow and emptied already.” I said, opening up a file and pulling out a picture of the cross and handing it to her. She stared at it with a touch of confusion over her face. “Now we’ve been led to believe that there’s more out there than just the one. Problem is… we have no idea where to look…”

“So you’re stuck?” She asked, strutting towards me as she placed the picture back on my desk. I gave a nod in return and bit my lip. She stood next to me in silence for a moment before looking up at me. “Have you googled it?” She asked me simply. I scoffed.

“Of course, I googled it, Lyric. What do you take me for, an idiot?” I chuckled lightly. She made a face and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“I’m gonna keep my comment to myself because I need my job.” She smirked. For the first time in a while, I laughed. I began to just look at her as she pushed her dark locks behind her ear. “I don’t think you googled hard enough.” She said, slipping out of my office. I watched her grab her coat and things before looking at my one last time. “Goodnight, Mr. Adler. I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for.” And with that, I watched her walk away with such a swing of her hips that it was almost criminal. I nodded my head in acceptance. She was gorgeous. With that little nugget sitting in my thoughts, I decided to wrap it up and go to the dive bar again. It was the last night Floral and Fading would be playing this weekend and I wanted to be there for it. I dressed in a thin black sweater and black dress jeans with a nice pair of black boots for the day. I’d say I was already dressed for the occasion. Grabbing my jacket, I turned off my office lamps before heading out of the building.

I took a taxi to the club again like I had been doing all weekend. It was extra cold and the wind whipped against my cheeks harshly as I stepped out of the yellow car. I pulled my jacket close and shoved my hands in my pocket. As I walked towards the club, I noticed a woman stepping out of a beat up hatchback. I glanced a moment, my attention caught by her tight gold jeans and boots. And for a split second I could’ve sworn she looked like Lyric. I stopped in my tracks, leaning forward a little and straining my eyes for a better look. It was her. But what was she doing here? I never saw her around. I watched as she closed the door to her car, adjusting her short denim shirt and bending over to apply a darker red lipstick in her side view mirror. She started off towards the back entrance but stopped in her tracks after scratching her head. I could hear her groan loudly, pulling on her hair until it came off. I furrowed my brows in confusion as I watched her walk back to toss the wig in her backseat. Then she pulled off the wig cap…. ‘No that’s not…. She’s not…’ I thought as several emotions battled it out for the spotlight. I knew that hair anywhere. Her wild blonde hair with rings and beads… I stared in shock as she disappeared from her car and into the club.

“No way…” I said to myself. Lyric… Lyric Lewis, my assistant…

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 21

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4k. -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- i feel like this chapter is intense? but its her pov so it may just be the way she sees and feels it. maybe she’s overreacting lmao! maybe she wants it so much that shes hallucinating. who knows :P

- thanks for being patient btw! i work a lot these days and will work even more in the next few weeks (until halloween) so i may not update as often as i’d like. :(

-please, message me, give me feedbacks, it would mean sooo much to me!

Chapter 21 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

There's no one else like Niall to make me smile when I don't even feel like it and when he licked my cheek, I couldn't help myself. I didn't know why I lost my temper when Niall mentioned Maya while we were cooking but her name made me angry and jealous. I didn't know what had happened between Niall and her, all I knew was that she had deleted the picture of them kissing from her instagram account and for some odd reason, it had made me feel lighter, like a heavy weight had been taken off my shoulders. I knew it meant nothing and that they probably still had something going on but the fact that the whole world was not a witness of it made it better.

I stared at him the whole time we ate, feeling extremely lucky that he hadn't given up on me. I know it can sound cliché but most guys I knew easily dropped their female friends when they got an official girlfriend but Niall had never done that. Of course, he was less available if he went steady with a girl but it didn't happen much and I understood, but he always made time to see me and talk to me.

We washed the dishes without a water fight this time and ended up in the living room. I searched through my spotify playlist and put music on. He groaned and even if my back was facing him, I knew he was rolling his eyes, which made my lips curl even more.

"Liv, why?"

"Because I'm a One Direction fan." I explained in an amused tone as 'Infinity' started playing.

His voice filled the room and my smirk turned into a fond smile. I couldn't explain how much I loved hearing him sing but it brought in me a sensation of well-being that I couldn't explain. Maybe it was only because of how much I loved him but I felt like there was more to it. If I was being honest with myself, it was everything he did, everything he said, everything that emanated from him, like some sort of incredibly intense sentiment that made me literally vibrate in his presence. And I knew it sounded stupid and cheesy and cliché... but it was the truth. It was him and everything he was.

"This song makes me think of you." I admitted in a low tone, not daring to turn around to meet his gaze. He was probably frowning and I tried to focus on the beating of my heart inside my chest. The rhythm was abnormal but I tried not to think about it. "And me, too. Like this song was a bit of both of us."

He didn't say anything and I remained motionless, staring at the tv on the wall and trying not to say too much even if I knew I had to explain myself.

"I mean, I know that feeling, in the first few verses. I keep falling and it hurts... Everything seems to go so fast yet I can't seem to follow. I feel frozen most of the time, like there's nothing I can do. And you know, I followed you on that tour and it was crazy. I lived things I couldn't even dream of living and saw things I never thought i'd see. Yet everything seemed to go so fast I felt like I couldn't quite follow. Like I was always a few steps behind."

"Behind what?" his voice echoed inside me, making my heart skip a beat.

I licked my lips and breathed in before turning around slowly and shrugging.

"Behind you."

His eyebrows raised but then fell and turned into a frown. He shook his head slightly, not really understanding what I was saying but it took me a few seconds to continue.

"And you know that part where it says 'everybody wants you'?" I nibbled my bottom lip. "Well it's true. Everybody wants you. I knew everyone wanted you before but when I joined you on tour it made it so much more obvious."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears inside. I was being emotive and I just stared at him as he stared back, sitting on the couch, his back leaning against it, until he moved his upper body closer and leaned his elbows on his knees. Instinctively, I took a step closer.

"But the tour before this one, the tour I didn't go with you? It was even worse. I mean yea, I had friends and a job and all that, but something was missing. You were gone. And I thought about all the conversations we could have had if you had been there."

I saw so many emotions pass on his face but I just couldn't decipher them. Perhaps I was too busy trying to contain myself and not just tell him how much I love him. He shook his head slightly and frowned more.

"What are you trying to tell me, Olivia?"

The song was over by then and an other one had started but my brain didn't seem to focus on it at all. I finally just shrugged and looked away, breaking this connection we had.

"Nothing. Just that I feel.. like I need you in my life."

"I need you in my life, too."

I nodded slowly, pressing my lips together and looking at the carpet. It was close. I was so close tell him and I didn't know how I felt about it. Was this sadness or relief? Or a mix of both? He had said so many sweet things in our room after we had that fight when he found Harry and I together in bed. His words were running over and over in my head and I could still feel the warmth that had invaded my whole body in that moment. So many times I just wanted to cup his face and kiss him but I never did. I will never do it.

When I looked up, he was not sitting anymore. In fact, he was closer to me and he was holding out his hand to me, his eyebrows raised and his lips curled a bit. I chuckled and rolled my eyes with a grin, taking his hand in mine. Quickly, he made me twirl around and I started laughing until I was facing him again. An other song started, this time I recognized it immediately. It was 'Temporary Fix' and Niall started dancing, pulling on my hands and making me laugh even more. I started dancing with him but he didn't let go of my hands, not even a second. He made me twist and turn and spin until I was laughing so hard I almost forgot how to breathe. At the end of the song, one of my feet got caught into one of his and I let out a high-pitched scream as I fell. I held on his hands so tight that he fell on top of me and I started laughing even harder. Those moments with Niall were everything I needed and when he started laughing too, I started wondering why I wanted something with Harry when I had everything I needed with Niall.

"You're such a clumsy ass!" he let out with an other chuckle.

I stopped laughing as soon as I opened my eyes. His body was over half of mine, both his legs on each sides of one of mine, and he was looking at me from very close with an amused smile.

"Well, i'm pretty sure your foot was not where it was supposed to be." I argued but swallowed, feeling his whole body pressed on mine.

"No, it's all your fault."

He was not laughing either anymore but the left corner of his lips was raised. Weirdly, his smile seemed gentle and it made my heart skip a beat.

"It's your fault, Horan." This time, I had almost whispered.

I could feel my heartbeats accelerating and he moved slightly against me. I held my breath and raised my eyebrows in surprise when I felt his dick press on my thigh. I could have sworn he was getting harder by the second. I was starting to feel my inner thighs throb and it was driving me insane. I couldn't believe I was getting aroused by my best friend getting hard against me. My lips parted but I couldn't think about anything else until his face changed and he cleared his throat, rolling off of me and laying on his back. I wanted to look at him but all I could think about was the pressure I still felt exactly where his crotch had been a few seconds before and how his half-hard dick felt against me.

"You wanna know what One Direction song reminds me of you?"

I just turned my head his way and he did the same, sending me an other smile. I was not going to mention what had just happened but I was not going to forget about it either.

"Mmhm." I just whispered, nodding a bit.

He smiled more and searched through his pockets to grab his phone. The song started playing from the speakers of his living room and with the first few notes, I held my breath again. I knew what song it was and it made me happy. It was one of my favorites and when it came to his verse, he sang it in a low tone with his own voice in the background and I felt my whole body melt.

"Feels like this could be forever tonight Break these clocks, forget about time There could be a World War 3 going on outside You and me were raised in the same part of town Got these scars on the same ground Remember how we used to kick around just wasting time?"

I gripped the carper hard with both hands to stop myself from bringing one to his cheek and when the chorus started, I sang with him as we started at each other. At some point, he even mouthed the bridge and it felt like he was telling me he was always going to look for me... that he was always going to come back to me. I felt myself tear up and I blinked a few times, trying to get rid of my tears.

"I love that song." I admitted when it was fading.

"I know."

We smiled at each other and he finally turned his head back to look at the ceiling.

"So, which One Direction songs are your least favorite?"

"Easy, pretty much the whole first album."

My answer probably surprised him because it took him a while to keep talking.

"Why?"

"Because they didn't give you solos. You barely sang." I explained with a shrug. "And you've got the best voice in all of you."

I thought he'd laugh and joke around but he simply looked back at me again.

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do."

Quickly, he moved his face closer and pecked my nose, making my heart beat all over my body. He chucked and got up, extending his hand to me. I stared at it and licked my lips, putting my hand in it. He grabbed my fingers and helped me up, making me twirl one last time before walking to his couch and letting himself fall on it.

"How did the talk with Harry go?" he asked with a sigh as I heard an other song start in the background but the volume was lower now.

I grimaced, not really wanting to discuss that, but just sat next to him. I wanted this evening to be just us two but it was hard to ignore that we both had someone else in our lives. Well, sort of.

"Was alright. You know Harry. Laid-back, calm, not in a hurry to date or anything." I shrugged.

"But he wants to?"

"He says so but I don't know, I think he'll get tired of it quickly enough."

I turned to him and tried to find out how he was feeling without much success. He seemed on the verge to say something but I talked first.

"What about your conversation with Maya?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. leaning his head against the couch and closing his eyes for a few seconds. I felt extra guilty for the relief that washed over me. It's not that I wanted them to stop whatever they had, but it was harder than I thought to think he could fall in love with her. It hurt way too much.

"She wants a relationship and I don't. We argued a bit but we decided to go on that double date with you and Harry." he pointed out. "And she deleted the picture, which is what I wanted the most."

I nodded slowly, not daring to look at him. I tried to think of how a double date would go and I felt like it would be very painful for me but I didn't mention it, obviously.

"Oh, talking about that." he continued. "Have you seen all the comments under Harry's picture?"

The thought made something twist in my stomach. Of course I had seen the comments. All the judgments about me and my appearance. All the opinions of people who thought I was too ugly and fat to be with either of them. How I barely deserved to hang out with them, let alone date one of them.

"Oh yea." I grimaced. "How I'm too plain to be around you guys. My teeth not straight enough, my hair not glowing enough. My clothes not special or expensive enough. I've read every single one of them."

He turned to me and his eyes roamed on my face.

"I didn't see those but screw them. It's not true. You're anything but plain."

I smiled fondly at him and simply nodded, not really wanting to argue with him.

"And your teeth are cute."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes at him.

"You got yours straighten, didn't have that chance."

"Told you, they look cute."

"You looked cute with your crooked teeth too!" I commented with a chuckle. "You're the only one who didn't think so, you know."

"And look at them now!" he joked, smiling exaggeratedly at me and making me laugh again.

I pressed my hand on his face and pushed gently on it, rolling my eyes but still laughing. I took my hand back and he smiled at me as I did the same. I don't know how long we stared at each other but eventually, we had both stopped smiling.

"What I meant earlier, about the song..." I breathed in but sighed and shrugged. "I just meant that everyone wants a piece of you... and I feel like eventually, there will be nothing left for me."

He didn't break eye contact but I felt his hand squeeze mine so tight it almost hurt. He looked serious and I felt my heart throb all over my body. The way he looked at me made me feel dizzy and I held my breath.

"I will always be there. I'll never leave. Never."

I almost felt shy from the way he was gazing at me, like he could read my soul and everything I was trying to hide. I nodded extremely slowly this time and after a while, he smiled at me, letting go of my hand.

"There are comments about you and Harry, and some about Maya and I." he added, going back to the previous conversation. "I normally don't read that shit but I wanted to see how damaging the picture Maya posted was."

I could lie and say I never read the comments but it was useless and also stronger than me. Perhaps the fact that the majority of people thought I wasn't worthy of Niall made me believe it through the years. Perhaps my self-esteem was more than just slightly scratched. Perhaps it was completely ruined.

"Let me guess, Maya and I are both not good enough for you guys? Although some comments probably said how gorgeous she was." I chuckled but I knew it was not funny and i looked down at my thighs as I played with the fabric of my pants.

"Oh I don't know, but some people say that you and I are their OTP. D'you know what that means?"

I closed my eyes tight and smiled slightly. Of course I knew what it meant, I had looked it up the very first time I saw it, and It took me a while to get over it. The certitude that some people, although a very small portion of Niall's fans, thought we should be together made me feel incredibly good. I had never answered or liked one of those comments but knowing they existed was enough to make me happy.

"One True Pairing. Yea, I know." I said with a chuckle again. "It's probably about our friendship and how close we are, you know? They can see it, I guess."

I expected him to tell me how crazy and ridiculous the thought was but he didn't and all I was thinking about was talking about something else before it became awkward between us.

"When's that double date?" I asked, regretting it almost immediately after.

I wanted to stop talking about those comments about Niall and I but talking about the date that I feared was definitely no better. The image of Niall and Maya kissing in the living room of the lodge a few days ago made my heart jump in my chest as anxiety crossed my whole body. I didn't want to see it again.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "This week I guess."

"Okay, I'll ask Harry when he's available." I added without enthusiasm.

If I could, I'd postpone this date for years but at the same time, I had to find out what was going to happen between the four of us. The more time I spent with Niall, the more I realized that being in a relationship with someone that wasn't him was not something that I really wanted but at the same time, i couldn't stay single forever while he dated perfect girls like Maya. Perhaps, officially dating Harry was the solution... the cure to this painful feeling inhabiting my whole heart, mind, body and soul. I couldn't be in love with Niall until I died, right? It had to stop at some point?

"Okay so, movie marathon? You said rain check."

I turned to look at him and he was staring, his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. I smiled and nodded quickly making his lips curl. He put his hands on his thighs and got up as my eyes followed him. He searched through his dvds and didn't even show me which one he picked but when it started, I grinned wide and it made him chuckle as he sat back next to me.

"Thank you!" I said, moving closer and kissing his cheek, my lips brushing against his stubble and making a shiver cross my back. "Thank you." I repeated in a very low tone.

He turned his face my way but I didn't move. I enjoyed the proximity of his mouth from mine as I heard the start of the first 'Back To The Future' movie on the screen. He smelled so good. No one smelled like him. Harry smelled intensely, so much it was almost intoxicating, and perhaps the desire I had for him came partially from that. He smelled sweet but rich and on the floral side, which was a great contrast with his caramel taste. Niall's scent was completely different. It was woody, maybe? More manly and strong, but not invasive. I could smell his natural aroma even though he was wearing cologne and the mix was indescribable.

"You're welcome." he whispered, his smile now totally gone.

It took him too long to answer, like he was lost in his thoughts, exactly like I had been a few seconds ago, and I started imagining him moving closer and kissing me. It put my whole body on fire and I held my breath as my lips parted slightly. If he kissed me, everything would be over, yet everything would begin too, and I wanted it. I wanted everything to change. I wanted him to realize I was the one for him, because I was, right? His eyes dropped to my lips and I felt my eyes water. I was hallucinating things, it was obvious, and I could swear my heart totally stopped when my phone beeped. We both jumped slightly and I felt the connection that seemed to link us break once again. I closed my eyes and sighed low, searching through my pocket quickly. My hand was shaking but I decided not to answer Harry's text. I simply turned the sound off and put my phone away, leaning against the back of the couch.

"Come here."

My eyes found Niall again and I smiled sadly when he moved his arm up. I cuddled his side quickly and we started watching the movie in silence. I hated my phone and at that exact moment, I was pissed at Harry. I had no reason to, I knew pretty well that nothing would have happened between Niall and I, but I felt like no matter what we did, something or mostly someone was always getting between us. I just wanted to kidnap him and fly to a deserted island, or throw both of our phones away and lock all the doors of his house. I knew it was impossible and I didn't say anything but after half an hour of his body warming mine, I looked up at him. Fuck, I wanted to run my fingertips on his cheek more than anything.

"I suspect you like these movies as much as I do."

He laughed and looked down at me, raising his eyebrows in an amused way.

"Yea? Well you're wrong. I mean, they're alright." he pointed out. "But I accept to watch them over and over again just because I know it makes you happy."

"No better best friend than you." I whispered, making him smile more.

"No better best friend than you." he repeated as I turned my face to kiss his upper arm, over his shirt.

His smile fell but he just cleared his throat and put his attention back to the movie. I stared at him for a few more seconds before doing the same but it was so hard concentrating on the movie when all I could think about was how good his body felt against mine, how i seemed to mold with him perfectly, how happy I was around him. I knew I had to get over it... I had to get over him. And although I was anxious about that date, I knew that there was a possibility my heart would be broken on that day and perhaps it was what I needed to get over Niall and give Harry a chance.

I didn't want to tell him I was stressed but I didn't know why. I used to tell Niall everything except that I was in love with him, what had changed?

"I'm nervous about that double date." I just said, not getting into details about the reasons.

"Don't be, it'll be fine, I promise." he tried to reassure me. "And if you're too uncomfortable we can just cut it short and leave. How about we decide on a word to say and if the other says it, then we find a way to get out of there as soon as we can?"

I chuckled at his idea and sat up to look at him better. I loved that he was caring with me and he implied himself in it, meaning that he could be the one who wanted this whole date to stop. It made me feel less like a loser.

"Perfect!" I let out, turning his way and sitting cross-legged on the sofa. "What's the word?"

He seemed to think for a second and then smiled at me.

"Honey."

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 16)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1780

Warnings: None.

A/N: Big thanks to @indecisive20something for the sweet message, which was exactly the push I needed to start on this again. 

I tried not to think about it, because I knew once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. My heartbeat rattled around in my rib cage in time with the constant loop of What do I want? What do I want? What do I want? running through my head. That was a dangerous question, with answers that twisted around and knotted together and tightened in my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

Work was busy enough that I could manage not to drown in the questions, and then I collapsed into bed and slept like the dead when I got home. So far, so good.

I woke up to a text from Dean.

Still want to get together this afternoon?

Sure. I’m done at 4.

I moved through my day like a robot, like I wasn’t fully present in my own body, everything jerky and automatic. The noise and the smells and the customers trying to get my attention were too much, too loud, interrupting the careful blankness I was clinging to.

I stepped out into the back alley for my fifteen, leaning heavily against the brick wall, and looked up at the grey sky, wishing I could see the stars. My phone vibrated.

I’ll come pick you up, okay?

Okay. See you soon.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

——-

The humid spring air drags at my skin, tugging at my fingers when I stick my hand out the open window and let it ride the pressure of the wind. Dean’s drumming absently on the steering wheel, singing along just a little bit off-key. I turn up the volume. His grin is blinding.

“Let’s just… go somewhere,” I say impulsively, and he’s already nodding.

“Where?”

“I’ve never seen the Pacific.”

The sun is setting as we drive up State Route 1. The light catches pink and orange on the tiny ripples of distant waves, bright gold on Dean’s eyelashes, and he looks like he’s glowing when he smiles. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of those smiles.

We park somewhere and hop out of the car, kick off our shoes, set them on Baby’s hood and stumble hand in hand toward the shore. The loose sand is warm under our feet, shifting and sliding with each step. I almost trip, but Dean’s got me, safe and sure, tugging me back to upright with one strong hand.

I shriek when the cold surf hits my toes. The water gurgles in and hisses away, steady, endless. The hems of our jeans are soaked already, but we don’t mind.

When the last rays of sun have faded and the salty breeze starts to nip at my bare skin, Dean wraps me in his flannel and we sit on the hood of the car, sharing the last of the road snacks for our own familiar version of a picnic dinner.

I’d joked, earlier, about driving forever, but the truth is that I want to be home. I miss our bed, the soft blankets that smell like Dean, and I miss the library, and I miss Sam, and all the other mundane bits of our life together. So Dean pulls back onto the highway and we head east, and I fall asleep curled in the passenger seat, the next best thing to home.

I love waking up with Dean, the way he holds me in his sleep, pressed firmly to my back with his arm curled protectively around me, his breath tickling the nape of my neck. I take it in for a few minutes, still and silent, until he starts to stir, his thumb stroking over my collarbone and his nose nuzzling my ear. I hear the happy little noise he makes when he remembers we’re both naked, and even though I’m sore and sated from last night, I wiggle back against him, breath catching when he starts to press gentle kisses to the curve of my shoulder.

I roll over lazily, molding myself to his chest, and kiss him properly. He’s smiling against my lips. When I look at him, he’s looking back through half-closed eyes, sleepy and sweet and soft, the Dean that only I get to see. I love him, love him in a way that makes my heart swell and puts stars in my eyes and brings every other stupid cliche to life. I love him so much I can barely breathe sometimes.

Bonham jumps up on the bed by our feet, whining happily. She’s always so excited to start the day that her entire body vibrates with the wagging of her tail. She wriggles in between us, trying to give Dean his morning face-licking, and even though Dean’s grumbling and swatting at her, he’s smiling with such fondness that I giggle.

“For someone who swore he’d never have a dog…” I start, but Bonham lunges at my face instead while Dean laughs.

“Okay, Bonnie, let’s go,” he says, trying his best to sound annoyed. Bonham waits by the door, ears raised, while Dean fumbles with his pants. I admire the muscles in his shoulders as he pulls on a shirt, half-tempted to drag him back into bed and map the freckles with my tongue.

Sam’s got my favorite mug waiting by the time I shuffle into the kitchen, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee, still steaming hot. Cup in hand, I move through the familiar steps of our morning routine, filling Bonham’s water dish and scooping food into her bowl, ducking under Sam’s arm to swipe a piece of bacon from the pile waiting on a paper towel.

When the jangling of dog tags announces Dean’s return, everything’s ready. I slide Dean’s plate across the table and he gives me a sleepy-eyed smile, already reaching for his fork.

“Love you,” he says fervently, when I pass him his coffee.

“Love you more,” I respond, and I kiss his cheek before settling down in my own chair. Sam heaves a long-suffering sigh, but he’s smiling.

“What’s the plan for the day?” Sam asks.

Dean’s too busy shoveling eggs into his mouth to talk, so I answer: “Checking out that venue I told you about. The one by the lake.”

“Can’t we just elope?” Dean says, around a mouthful, and I roll my eyes affectionately.

“Careful, one of these days I’ll get sick of making floral decisions and actually take you up on that,” I tease. Dean’s the one who wants to go traditional, always has been; if it were up to me, we’d have gotten married in the woods the day he proposed, with nobody but the birds and the stream to witness it.

Sure enough, he huffs and makes some excuse about not disappointing my mother, and Sam and I exchange a knowing look across the table.

Dean’s hand finds mine on the table. He squeezes gently, interlacing our fingers, and I pick up my coffee left-handed, reluctant to let go.

I couldn’t care less about the wedding, about flowers or catering, about whether he’ll wear a tux or his rattiest old flannel, but as far as I’m concerned, the rest of our lives can’t come soon enough.

There’s someone calling my name, I realize. It’s distant and faint, echoing, and I feel a flutter of panic in my rib cage. It’s Dean’s voice, and there’s a harsh edge of fear there that cuts through the warmth in my chest. The taste of bacon is fading, giving way to something metallic and choking. Sam and Dean’s faces are dissolving in front of me, blurring and fading, and when I try to squeeze Dean’s hand again it’s not there.

It’s just not there, and I try to hold on, try not to let it slip away, but it’s no good.

——-

Something in my arm was stinging, biting through the confusion, and I blinked down at it, registering a syringe at my feet. Dean’s face in front of me was pale and scared, but as I watched, the terror turned slowly to relief.

“Oh, thank Christ, holy fuck,” he was saying, rubbing a hand over his eyes, and he sat back, shoulders sagging.

“Do you know where you are?” Sam said gently, and I looked around. I recognized the bunker, the main room, but I realized with a sharp chill of fear that I had no memory of getting there. Part of me was still trapped in the dream, still warm and safe and comfortable, and I wanted to close my eyes and go back, bury myself in that world where everything was exactly as it should be.

“You were attacked,” Dean was saying. The heels of his hands were still pressed to his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

I scanned through a foggy series of memories, coming up with the alleyway, the sound of footsteps, and then nothing.

“By a djinn,” Sam said, and I stared at him silently.

“They feed on humans,” Dean said gruffly. “They poison you, make you see things… when I showed up to meet you, they said you hadn’t come back from your break.”

“You found me?” I asked. My voice was faint and shaking. He nodded.

My head was spinning. I fought back a sudden surge of nausea.

“Those things I saw,” I stammered. They’d seemed so real, so fucking real I would’ve sworn I could feel every callus on Dean’s fingers, and part of me was straining to hear the tip-tapping of paws and the jangle of a dog collar in the hallway.

“They’re mind readers,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “They can see what you want, more than anything, and they make you think you have it while they keep you sedated.”

I closed my eyes and choked back a sob. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, knowing that Sam and Dean were witnessing this ridiculous display, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

They can see what you want, more than anything...

It had been a fucking hallucination, all of it, the warmth and the comfort and the dog and the ring, but it had felt so real and so right, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight and wished, more than anything, that I could fall back into that stupid domestic fantasy where I’d finally, finally, felt at peace.

The worst part? I didn’t have to ask myself what I wanted, not any more, not when the answer had played out around me, 3D and high-def and undeniable… but now that I knew, I was faced with the sickening realization that what I wanted was impossible.

That perfect blissful quiet life was nothing more than a dream. Reality was still a fucking mess.

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Next part is HERE. 

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