#also yes reading raindrop blood made me have to write raindrop blood

[birdbrain90]

Raindrops on Roses - A Sylki Fanfic

@swinging-stars-from-satellites (DAMMIT I told you it would make me write Sylki fic xD . This is what I came up with. I didn't do that "I end up in your bed" prompt correctly at ALL, but creative liberties are a thing. This is what I tell myself. It's not TERRIBLE for a 24 hour fic, at any rate. LOL) BASED ON THIS TROPE/PROMPT - "there were two beds but in the middle of the night, you still slip into mine and i don’t complain because you’re sick with a cold/fever because we were running away from the authorities last night and it was pouring rain, and i wake up the next morning and we’re not cuddling or anything, although i wish we were, but we’re facing each other and oh my god, you’re still asleep and i can see every strand of disheveled hair, every freckle, every eyelash, every single detail of your face, illuminated by the 6 am sunrise from the molding motel window behind you, is this love?" The rain hadn't ceased all day, and they wondered if it ever would. Loki and Sylvie had been running all morning and afternoon, trying to cover as much ground as possible before their next jump. They had taken to apocalypse hopping, because two Lokis, separate entities fulfilling the same cosmic role, could not exist together on the timeline. Neither of them found themselves satisfied with that answer, so they ran, and ran, and ran some more.

This time though, neither was alone. It had become fun for both of them, ducking and dodging order while chaos ensued around them. It wasn't much of a permanent life, but it fit somehow.

Finally they came upon a motel. It didn't take long for Sylvie to enchant the receptionist, procuring a room for the night.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do it." Muttered Loki as he peeled his sopping wet jacket off.

"It's freezing. This weather is absolute shit." Looking like a drowned rat indeed, Loki smiled and waved his wrist, conjuring sleeping clothes for both of them. "Thanks. I'm going to take a shower."

There was an odd pause before she left. She wanted to ask if he wanted to join, and he wanted to ask if she wanted company. Neither had the courage, so the moment was lost on both.

When Sylvie emerged from the shower, her cheeks were blazing red. She flopped down on her bed, looking over at Loki who laid on his bed reading a book.

"My turn?" He muttered, not looking up from the pages. Eventually he got up and headed to do the same thing. When he also emerged clean and dry, he spied Sylvie asleep on her bed. Smiling, he raised his hands, grunting a little as a green glow lit his hands, and an unseen force lifted her into the air, while the same force prepared her bed, tucking her gently into it. "Goodnight, Sylvie darling." He smiled, secretly terrified that she might hear that last part.

Sylvie awoke some time later, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She was...cold? That was unusual enough on its own. Every movement seemed to make her colder. She sat up and looked over at Loki, sound asleep in the bed next to hers. He didn't seem to be in any sort of distress. There was no way someone as sturdy as her would fall ill, but that's certainly how she felt. Maybe it was from being soaking wet all day…

Sylvie continued shivering in bed, debating going and taking another shower when something disrupted her thoughts.

"Sylvie…" came a whisper from the bed next to her. She rolled over and stood, throwing her shivering legs over the side of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can’t sleep.” When she received no response, she stood and padded over to his bed. He was very clearly still sleeping. Why was he whispering her name in his sleep? “Loki…?” She called.

“Hmm?” Came his groggy reply. His eyes didn’t open, and she honestly wondered whether the oaf was even conscious or not.

“Loki I’m freezing. I can’t sleep. I dunno what’s wrong.” She shivered, immediately missing her blankets.

Loki said nothing, and his eyes still did not open. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, and clumsily peeled back the blanket, wordlessly inviting her into his bed. Sylvie faltered, not knowing what to think, but also not wanting to wait long enough for him to actually wake up and see her embarrassment if he was indeed still sleeping. Slowly, she climbed into the bed next to him and pulled the covers back up over herself. Immediately she was greeted with the smell of his skin. Sweet and spicy all at once. She was frustrated by how intoxicating it all was.

They’d grown close over the time they’d been running, but they were both too cripplingly shy to make any sort of advance. Sylvie didn’t understand it at all. She was no stranger to seducing in order to get what she wanted. Information, a drink or ten, relief from needs, it all came easily to her. Yet somehow here, in front of this beautiful man who had stolen her heart, it was way too real, and she felt reduced to a stuttering teenager. She huffed, rolling away from him in an attempt to forget his sleeping face. She had also completely forgotten the fact that she had been shivering from head to toe just minutes prior. Her quaking had ceased, in favor of warm, restful sleep.

The word “cozy” wasn’t a word Loki normally included in his vocabulary. He’d grown up surrounded by princely comforts, with more brought to him if only he asked. But cozy? That was a new one, and when he awoke the following morning it was certainly at the forefront of his mind. He hummed, stretching lazily and extending his arm. His entire body stiffened in fear when his arm rested on top of something soft and curvy. His breath halted in his throat, and he feared he might choke on it as his eyelids flew open to reveal Sylvie sleeping peacefully next to him. His eyes darted under the blanket, relieved and somehow disappointed at the same time when he saw they were both still clothed. When had she moved into his bed? He certainly remembered falling asleep separately last night. Having to consciously breathe in and out, he tried to relieve himself of some of the rigidity in his body, save for the painfully obvious spot.

Shaking his head, he steeled his nerves. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been reduced to a terrified teenager. He looked over at the woman lying near him, his mouth falling open in quiet reverence when a sunbeam poked through the window and illuminated her face. Every gentle crease in her face, the swell of her lips, the long lashes that concealed the eyes he found himself staring into for way too long, it was all too much. He gasped, averting his eyes for fear his heart would leap right out of his chest. He stiffened again when he felt her shift, inching barely closer to him. He wanted to reach out and caress her face, the fear of waking her and ruining this moment overpowering his desires in that moment.

Loki wasn’t sure how long he had laid there, attempting to commit her sleeping face to memory. Her face while she was awake was its own kind of beautiful. He loved the way her nose would scrunch up at certain jokes, the way she would roll her eyes at him throughout the day. When they would get into trouble, her almost inhuman snarl set his blood aflame. He felt he could do anything while the heat of her battle rage encompassed him. Sleeping, though, she was completely different. Her face was peaceful, something he suspected she hadn’t had much of while she was awake. That thought, combined with the tranquility of the moment brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to give her a life of peace. Of stability. But he feared they might never get that chance.

Sniffling quietly, he decided to damn the consequences, and he reached out and brought a hand to her cheek. She did not move under his ghostly touch. He drew his thumb down the bridge of her nose, gliding it under her eyes, memorizing every hill and valley on her face. Moving a bit closer to her, he continued, his desire for her to know how he felt only increasing with physical contact. He removed his hand from her face, sliding it down her arm and eventually resting on her hip. Loki would never be able to explain where his sudden hubris came from, but he decided he would risk the angry palm that would surely fly at his face before too long. Butterfly kisses. Feather light touches of his lips that he was sure would wake her when she felt his quivering breaths on her face. He began at her forehead, kissing as much of her face as he could cover, before finally resting on her lips. He lingered there a bit longer, savoring the feeling. They had kissed before, in the citadel, and hadn’t seemed to find time for it since. He had been able to sneak a kiss on her cheek, or her knuckles every so often, but they hadn’t been able to find time to lay together and explore each other properly.

His heart bounced into his throat when he saw her eyelids bunch up, and finally flutter open. As soon as they did, she gasped and lurched backward.

“Loki! I-I… Uh….”

“Shh…” He crooned, stretching his hand out. “It’s okay. It’s only me, after all.”

“I-I… I was really cold last night. You pulled back the blanket so I… I just…”

“I have no memory of that.” He chuckled, before his face dissolved into concern. “But you? Cold? Are you okay?” He reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to her forehead. He shrugged, feeling no difference in her normal temperature. “You feel okay now. Likely from being out in the rain all day.

“Yeah…” She laid back down, still facing him. Loki followed suit, letting his head hit the pillow once more. They stared awkwardly for a while, fumbling around in their own heads and letting their cheeks darken several shades before someone spoke again. It was Sylvie who spoke first, looking down and counting the wrinkles in the sheets. Anything but meeting his eyes. “Loki…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re in a bed.” Oh that was dumb. Of all the things she’d ever said in her life, that had to be the dumbest.

“Okay? Yes. Yes we are.” She heard him chuckle, ending with a snort that made her want to reach out and smack him. “Brilliant observation, darling.” That word slipped out, and she saw fear creep into his eyes for a brief moment. What he didn’t know is how that one word flipped her stomach and filled it with butterflies.

“Idiot. That’s not what I mean. I mean…” What did she mean? She had no idea. “I want…”

“Yes…?”

“I want it to be like this. Just like this. Default. You and me.” The shit eating grin had not left his face, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump on him and strangle it off, or kiss it off. Maybe both. She wondered if he’d be into both.

“Of course. Next time, enchant the receptionist into giving us a key to a room with only one bed.” He laughed, grunting as she finally decided to reach out and shove his chest. He did notice, however, that after she was done shoving him, her hand lingered. He took the opportunity to place his hand over hers, urging her to feel the heart that beat only for her. “I’m teasing you. No need to get violent.” He smiled, his face melting into lovesickness. “I would love nothing more than to wake up with you in my arms every morning, wherever we are, at the end of a thousand worlds I only want to feel your skin and your heart entwined with mine. I lo-....” He froze, the phrase that threatened to leave his lips and the possibility that she might reject it cooled the flame in his gut. “Wh-what I mean to say is I…Um….Y-you see, I’ve thought about this quite a bit... I-I lov-...” He sighed, frustrated. “Can I just kiss you instead? Words are hard when they’re all for you.”

She nodded. His heart sang at her quiet acceptance as he joined his lips with hers. Eventually as their clothing began to fall away piece by piece, the drab motel around them became a luminous place of worship. The world could have ended around them and neither would have cared. This was enough, it was glorious, and it was all their own. Whatever came their way, they’d figure it out somehow, and they’d figure it out together. (This will be cross posted on my Archive of our Own account, Wonderchild90. So if you happen to see it there, that's me! It's not stolen. Oh but also if you enjoy sickening fanfics for these two dumb demigods, come have a look! Shameless self plugging. LOL.)

#pro sylki #sylvie x loki #love is a dagger #loki 2021 #lovedaggers

[camslightstories]

Tolerate it - Part 5

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers.

Notes: I’m so sorry! I haven't updated in the last couple days, they have been erratic, I have been so much homework and my family is not the easiest. I apologize for it. But the good thing is that I wrote two chapter in less than 24 hours, and the next one would be up tomorrow. 

I hope you guys enjoy it, and if you have any feedback, comment or request, I will accepted gladly. I know my writing isn't the best but I hope you guys like it. I’m also going to repost my favorite stories from other writers and I will be asking for request, so if you have one just hit me up. Have a great day, guys!

Taglist: @multi-images

Continuation 

Tears running down through your cheeks, and raindrops hitting your body, as you walked through the streets of National City. The rainstorm seems to get worse, and you didn't notice. You walked slowly as millions of questions invaded your head.

Since the moment you walked out of the apartment, your mind went blank as everything that had happened seconds before came back to you. You were soaked in rain, and every time a thunder would make their presence known you would flinch. The lights of the cars were the only thing that illuminated the streets as you walked with the smell of the wet ground. 

With every single question and doubt, a memory would cross your mind. Your first date. Your first kiss. Your first sleepover. Your first Gala. Your first morning together. Your first time. Your first Christmas. Your first Anniversary. Your first day after moving in. All of it.  

Your clouded mind tried to make sense of the situation. Fears and insecurities crashing into you as you tried to gather your thoughts, trying to get Lena out of your head. But you couldn't, you didn't want to admit it, but you didn't want to. 

Lena was the person who brings out the best of you, Lena who with a soft smile would have you happily cheering the whole day. Lena who was in every step of the way when you failed in every possible way. Lena who will hug you protectively at night making you sleep as peaceful as you ever could. Lena who shared her home with you after 1 year and a half of dating. Lena who made all your insecurities go away. Lena who received every present you gave her even if it wasn't at her status. Lena who made you feel saved and loved after so long. 

Lena who became your everything. Lena who became the light of your life. Lena who you would wait hours even though you were tired just to see her. Lena who made you become a morning person, so you could just make her coffee as she gets ready for work so you could see her smile before leaving. Lena who would be running up and down through your head at every second of the day. 

Lena who somehow fixed you without you even noticing, and now without noticing broke you beyond repair again. You had felt so lost when you lost your dad, you thought that was going to be the worst moment and feeling of your life. But little did you know that when the love of your life, loves someone else and you choose to leave for her to be happy was going to be your downfall. 

Weren't you enough?

Was Kara always the one she wanted?

Was all of it a temporal fill for her?

Was all of the loving and caring a facade?

Were you ever not gonna be enough for anything?

Why would this happen to you?

Weren't you broken enough?

Why did the universe decide that this was your life?

As the thoughts kept your head running you found yourself staring at your job place. It was quiet and dark, lights were off and all of the stores except for the bar downstreet were closed. You went through the back door leaning into it, trying to calm yourself down, even though it was not possible. All you could feel was pain and not a pain that with some pills was going to go away. 

You walked inside and noticed that somehow the silence and the darkness of the place had taunted you for so long, but you didn't recognize it. That feeling of scariness you didn't recognize for a long time. 

For a moment you opened the phone in your hand, tears rolling down the screen as you did. The Danvers Christmas photo with Lena, Maggie, and Jonn was in the background, all of you smiling like a family. You couldn't help to feel selfish when the only wish you had was to keep your relationship with Lena. But you knew you couldn’t, you knew the moment you decide to be selfish the happiness and the well being of the most important people for you would be at risk.

You lifted your glance from your phone, finding paper and pens in which you annotated the customized orders. You remembered how when you were kids and Kara had just arrived on Earth, you guys watched Harry Potter making you and Kara complete nerds for it. You guys decided to write each other letters to communicate, and since Kara was still learning English it worked great. After a few years, Alex became part of the writing, so it became a thing until Alex and Kara both left for college.

You grabbed the pen with trembling hands, shaky breath, and soft salted tears coming from your eyes. You stared at the paper as you cleaned your tearful eyes. You wrote for each one of them, and as you kept going, each one would get harder.

The pain runned through your veins until you had finally fallen asleep in one of the chairs. Soaked in rain, and makeup stains under your eyes and cheeks. Your breathing had become erratic the moment you walked out of the apartment. Whimpering as you slept on the chair.

The sunlight came through the window of the bakery. The sound of the door opening and closing woke you up. The noise frightened you. The scare made you fall to the floor, hitting your head and shoulder first. 

You said but were interrupted when the voice of your boss called you out. Rubbing your temples as you now felt the pain coming back.“Freaking-” 

“Danvers? What are you doing here?” JJ said as she heard your complaint. Her tone was somewhat cold and worried. 

You looked up to see your boss, staring right back at you. With judging eyes, examining every single part of your face. The bags under your eyes, the ruined makeup that runned through your cheeks. The way your eyes were red and looked exhausted from crying. You looked so broken, exhausted, crushed, lost. You looked like a little girl who had just lost everything in her life.

“I knew that Luthor would leave you like this, she is just as bad-” She claimed as she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

You interrupted, yelling. You felt your blood boiled, Lena was everything to you, and you wouldn't let anyone talk badly about her. Especially if they are comparing to her family, that line nobody should cross, Lena was good, strong, and so many things, that not even the world deserved her. “Don't you dare to talk about Lena like that!”

“Danvers! Open your eyes, look at you!” She exclaimed as she waved her hand pointing at you. 

You murmured, as you got up and tried to clean your clothes only to find them still wet the night before. “I’m fine”

The brunette looked at you in misbelief, before she commented, walking closer to you.“No, you are not, you are a broken little girl lost because you trusted a Luthor”

“Lena is not like her family!” You exclaimed as you furrowed your eyes. Thoughts came into your mind, saying your boss was right. Lena had done the same thing Barry, Lucy and you Dad did. 

“Yes, she is! She fits into the Luthor family profile perfectly-” She said, snapping you out of your thoughts, 

“She is everything good in this world. And I will not let you speak of ger like that!” You yelled as you slammed both of your hands on the table, with irritation before pointing your finger at her threatly.

After a few seconds of both of you losing your cool, JJ pinched her nose, before looking at you madly. “Okay then, did you sleep here?”

“I'm gonna take that as a yes, and without any further you are fired, get out of my bakery” You kept quiet, and avoided her glance in irritance. She looked at you and scoffed

“JJ? Please come on-” You resonated but the brunette just shocked her head before pointing at the door.

“You broke the contract, you slept in the workplace, and most importantly you are not in shape working here, Danvers” She responded with a cold voice.

“You can't be serious” You shake your head with a sad smile, joking. You couldn't lose it, not after you lost everything.

“I am and leave before I call the police” You looked at her in disbelief, as the last straw of the cup came out.

You walked out of the bakery with tears. Cleaning them with your sleeves as you entered the jewelry shop. You have visited millions of times, with hope and happiness in your chest.

“Hello, Mr. Rogers,” You said as you walked inside, seeing the old man in the chair reading the newspaper. 

“Good morning, Y/N. A beautiful morning isn't it?” He responded as he got up to hug you. 

Mr. Rogers had become somehow a therapist during the last two years, you would come into the jewelry shop and ramble about your day after paying a part for the ring you were fancying for Lena.

You murmured as you pulled away, putting on your best facade. “Yeah”

The nickname, Mr. Rogers had put on you after you came with Maggie to help her with their wedding rings, and made a sad smile on your face.  “How can I help you, baby Danvers?

You avoided his glance for a few seconds, before looking him in the eye, as you felt your eyes grow tired and wet.“Mr. Rogers, I want to return the ring” 

“Are you sure? Y/N, you've been paying this ring for two years now, and all the money will take me at least two days to return it to you” The man spoke as he looked at you worried. 

You commented, your voice breaking at the middle of the sentence.“Yes I'm sure, Mr. Rogers, please just give all the money to the orphanage”

“Miss. Y/N-” The old man noticed and went to speak up. But you interrupted him cleaning your tears and taking a deep breath.

You said cutting him off, trying to evade the conversation. “Please don't, Mr. Rogers. Please don't”

  “Can you give these to my Alex, the next time you see her?” The old man hugged you, of pity and worries. And you started to walk away before you put 5 letters on the counter giving him the best facade you could.

He responded nodding, putting the letters behind the register.“Yes, as you wish Y/N” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Rogers. Thank you for everything” You concluded before walking out of the store, as tears began to flow freely. The feeling of everything slipping away remained and became stronger. You felt lost, broken, numb, without anything or anyone.

The walk to your and Lena’s shared penthouse, well now Lena’s penthouse felt longer than it already was. Your mind and heart with throbbed pain, that felt any never-ending. You walked through the streets with your head down, since every time you would lookup. You would see something that would remind you of Lena.

Your heart ached as you waited outside of the Penthouse building. Mr. Smith waited in the car, as Lena came down to go to LCorp as any other day. Dressed in the green shirt of your first date, black heels, a black skirt, and a perfectly done ponytail. You watched as she looked like nothing had happened.

Your heartaches, as she looks normal. Like if nothing had affected her. Tears began to come out, so you walked to the inside parking of the building, and entered it by the garage door. 

The only light on the apartment was in the kitchen. The cold air of the penthouse occupied the penthouse. The silence was the only thing that could be heard. 

The penthouse was perfectly decorated for you and Lena. There were photos of the two of you hanging around, photos with the superfriends, and with your mom and sisters. There wasn't much color in the apartment it still felt like home. Blankets and Pillows on the couch hanging for comfort.

Pain and memories flowed into you, as you walked through the penthouse. Every Single Part of the apartment had space in your memory. You walked slowly to where the pictures were hung, and each one in where you stood took them away. The moment you went to remove the picture of your’s and Lena’s anniversary, everything came crashing down.

This time, it felt heavier, it felt stronger, it felt real. Your heartache was slowly consuming you from the inside out. It felt like a never stopping pain. It felt like an avalanche of emotions, angriness, emptiness, heartbreak, sadness. It felt surreal, you couldn't even make out the events of last night, neither less your feelings. 

As the time passed your doubts, and insecurities crowded your mind as you worked your way into collecting your things. And somehow in the makeup for excuses for Kara and Lena, you worked extremely well. Taking only the things that strictly belonged to you. 

Boxes slowly began to crowd the living room, and your bottling feelings began to count down when you noticed there wasn't anything else to pack. Pain caught your throat, and tears invaded your eyes, as the last boxes were closed. 

You glanced around the penthouse when you felt your breathing getting heavier, and the wall closing in. But there wasn't anything that could help you, there was only pain, in every inch of the place. 

You slide down the wall of the kitchen as the feelings sunk in. Tears flowed out of your eyes and small nonsense of crying would come out of your mouth. You let them flow in, you let them destroy you, you let them cause pain. You couldn't do anything, not because you weren't capable, but because you couldn't hurt your own family. 

Avalanches of emotions came and went away in the question of minutes, and somewhere around the way, you had found yourself the courage to face reality. To get up and do the right thing. 

Your phone rang the moment the UBER was downstairs waiting for you. You closed your eyes, gaining all of the courage you had, to close the door and walk away. 

With now a change of casual clothes, you walked inside LCorp and found Jess as fast as you could, without seeing your ex-girlfriend. The brunette young woman looked at you with a smile, before she spoke up. “Miss Y/N, Miss Luthor is available”

“I'm not here to see, Lena. Jess” You said as you walked to her desk with a yellow envelope, in which the keys of the penthouse were. 

The Latine woman, looked at you confused before she commented “Then how can I be of your assistance, Miss Danvers?”

With a sad smile, you responded. Avoiding her glance.“Please don't call me Miss Danvers Jess, feels like I'm Kara or my mom”

You took a second to gather the courage, before putting the envelope on her desk, taking a deep breath.“Also, I'm just here to give you this, so you could give it to Lena”

“I hope you the best, Jess” The Brunette caught your meaning and the situation. Putting dots together when she saw the small tear coming from your eye, as you tried to keep up with your posture. She nodded and let you go without any other explanation.

Walking out of the LCorp building was harder than you thought, the feeling of regret and heartbreak began to creep out of your chest, as you felt the tears coming out. You were leaving for them, so they could be happy, and they could be okay. And you would do it all over again. 

Crowded streets, sunlighted days, food overwhelm, the technology used, and superheroes capes, was what made National City. And even when you experience the most bearable moments of the city, you never once saw it fall down. Thanks to a lot of good people, including Lena Luthor and Kara Zor-El, and they deserved each other, and you couldn't get in the way of that. 

Some places feel at home temporarily. But the truth is that home can be anything. A place, a memory, a thing, a person. Sooner or later we find our way home. But for various reasons, you don't feel like you would find a home. Not even a light out of the tunnel that the universe has put on your way. 

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #supergirl imagine #kara danvers x reader #alex danvers x reader #baby danvers

[sweetestlamb]

You Can’t Just Leave Me

Summary: The Han family is a force to be reckoned with. 

Author’s Note: Writing this chapter made me smile, I hope reading it as the same affect on you all. Thank you to everyone who supports this story and leaves comments (or my silent readers). I appreciate you all and I am so thankful that you like this brainchild, I’ve just been winging it- never expecting to be on chapter 7 on something I initially planned on being a one shot. You all made it come this far, enjoy chapter 7!! Beautiful header by @ewolfwitchwisegirl text message created by Junjin fairy @prodmina

The apartment is eerily quiet following Su-ah's departure, he hadn't intentionally tried to eavesdrop but it was hard not to overhear their sniffles through the door. Then hours later the usually bubbly girl had exited the room with red rimmed eyes, he'd never seen her cry before in his many years of knowing her. He was awkward in the face of it, not used to comforting anyone besides Ju-Kyeong. 

Their conversation was clipped and it was clear that Sujin hadn't opened up about what happened. The Su-ah he knew would be making plans to sabotage her father, if she knew the full story.  She'd left with the final words, "Take care of her." He nodded without hesitation that was his intentions, he just needed to get her onboard with his plan to do that.

Taking a deep soothing breath he walks over to knock on the door.

"Sujin-ah, can we talk?" He asks, pressing his head against the door. Ready to plead if need be, she hadn't been answering him since being here. He never saw her come outside, but the food he brought would just disappear hours after he placed it. He waits patiently before reaching out his knuckles to knock again, but when the door suddenly opens he takes a quick step back surprised to see Sujin's face. It's clear she's been crying. He looks away, it's a bit unsettling to see her like this. Too raw.

"Let's talk in the living room." He suggests quietly, stepping back and walking towards the couch. Nerves easing minutely as he hears her soft footsteps behind him. He slides into one corner of the couch and watches as she sits on the opposite end. An awkward silence bellows around them as he stares at his hands and she stares at the ceiling. They have both never been the most talkative on a good day, but now it’s painful. 

He clears his throat stilling when he feels her eyes on him, waiting. He had this speech planned in his head for days but now that the moment is actually here, he's terrified. Too nervous to say the words he wants to, does he even have the right to apologize to her now? Does she even want his late apology or will she brush him off? He wouldn't blame her one bit, it had taken him too long and he still hasn't even forgiven himself, how could he expect her to forgive him? 

"Thank you."

He almost misses the quiet utterance because he's so lost in his own self deprecation. They are staring at each other now eyes locked, his own wide in bewilderment.

"What?" He responds caught off guard, he didn't expect Sujin to speak at all-much less for those to be her first words.

"You heard me. Thank you for letting me stay here and for not pressuring me to talk about it."  Sujin awkwardly squirms in her seat, glancing away from him before darting back and she gives him the courage to finally saw what he wanted- no needed to.

"I'm sorry." It's his turn to watch the shock form on her face but he presses on before she can question him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I knew what was happening but I didn't know how to help. I understand now that just being there would have been enough, you just needed a friend. I'm sorry I wasn't one."

A slight weight lifts off his shoulder and his heart, he's not free but he's one step closer. One step at a time.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We were just kids, what could you have done? It's okay, I never expected you to save me. How could you when you were dealing with your own pain?"

She's giving him an out, and logically she's right the pain of losing his mother crippled him for years. It was still weighing heavy on him to this day but he doesn't want an out, he wants to be accountable. He would rather her rage than her understanding.

"I know you didn't need a savior, but you needed a friend. Am I wrong? Were you okay dealing with everything on your own?" It's a low blow he's aware and the way her eyes narrow further confirm that his question isn't appreciated.

"Am I wrong?" He repeats and watches as the ice around her eyes melt away glacially, too many emotions flashing in her dark orbs- anger, sadness, disappointment, broken acceptance each emotion cutting at his heart.

Leaning forward he grabs at the folder on the table, he's already come this far might as well go all the way now.

"Here." He hands it to her, she raises an eyebrow taking the thick object. "Open it," he nods at the folder watching quietly as she breaks the seal and pulls out the documents, eyes scanning the papers before realization settles.

"Emancipation?" She whispers, now staring at him unblinking he can feel the heft of her undivided attention.

"Yes, we've been doing research and I think the best bet is for you to get emancipated." He winces at himself as she glares at the use of "we", he should have left that out with how distant they've been; she didn't even know that Seojun was the one providing the meals she seemed to love. She might stop eating them if she knew, she was so stubborn sometimes. 

She leaf's through the pages, carefully looking over the document and he sits silently awaiting her reaction.

"He would never allow this. You know that." It's said with certainty as if she's accepted her fate long ago, probably thought of this very option herself and then talked herself out of it.

"I'm going to ask her father to help, he's been supporting your father all these years. If he knew the truth..." He trails off letting her finish the rest and she barks out a humorless laugh, it sounds more like a sob.

"You want to tell your father? They have known each other for years, why would he believe me?"

"He's my dad. He'll believe me. We have to at least try." He pleads now desperate for her agreement. It wasn’t the right thing to say, he knows that instantly. 

Instantly she stands up, slamming the documents on the table the ice restoring around her eyes. "I was fine all those years you were wrong.  I'm not doing this, I don't need your dad's help." She spits the word "dad" like it's poison on her tongue, storming off to the room and slamming the door shut.

He sighs, defeated leaning back onto the couch. He sends a text to his father and Seojun. He failed. 

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Guilt eats at her following her outburst, she wasn't mad at Suho despite her harsh words. She can blame her anger on many things but she's self-aware enough to know that it's a defense mechanism; she was jealous. It was ugly and grotesque, but she cannot stop the way her blood boils when she sees others with parents that care. 

He's my father, he'll believe me.

That would never be her reality, Suho and his father had been able to reconcile and restart their broken relationship. That would never be her truth, her relationship with her father would never resemble something healthy and despite her efforts to repress her true feelings, it hurts. The little girl who desperately wanted to make her dad happy and proud still hadn't died.

She feels stupid, the biggest fool on the planet. How can she still be looking for love from someone who has never shown her anything but hatred? She’s the one with a problem here, she knows that. 

She shouldn't have lashed out especially after his apology, that must have taken true guts and she had thrown it all back in his face. She tries to make amends but every time they cross paths she freezes up and escapes to her borrowed room instead. It continues on for days with him still bringing food to her door and the combination of their kindness is too much for her. She doesn’t deserve it from either of them. 

Tugging on her jacket she leaves the apartment hastily with only a small note on her door. She needs some space to think without feeling suffocated.

Gone for a walk.

It's just her luck that it's raining outside, only a drizzle but it coats the world in a thick fog and it's hard to see. The biggest benefit is that nobody can see her, she just needs time alone to think. 

The idea of emancipation wasn't new to her, she had considered this option before but in the end she discarded it. Her father wasn't someone she would simply leave, he would drag her back kicking and screaming. He had instilled long ago that she was his, it was pointless to have dreams or aspirations, she just needed to follow his orders. That was her purpose. Being an obedient dog. 

Suho's plan also called for revealing her pitiful life, what if she went through this ordeal only to lose and not be given emancipation in the end? No. She couldn't make herself that vulnerable at least now she had her dignity, only two people knew about her secret. It might not be much to others, but her dignity was everything to her; it was all she had left.

Sighing loudly at the skies she mentally curses the weather, maybe it's poetic but all of her worst times have been bookmarked by the rain. It must be a metaphor for her life, damp and cold with no warmth in sight.

Stopping to sit on a bench she stares up at the gray skies before closing her eyes, accepting her fate. "Fine, rain on me. I probably deserve this." Cool raindrops roll down her cheeks imitating tears and she can feel the moisture seeping into her clothes and siphoning her heat.

"Unnie?" She jumps at the voice, sounding too close and she shifts away when she opens her eyes and is greeted by the large bespectacled eyes of Gowoon. The younger girl smiles sweetly, covering her with a pale blue umbrella with ice cream cones decorating it. It’s too innocent and too young the antithesis of everything in her life. 

"Unnie! What are you doing in the rain? You're getting wet!" Gowoon grabs her arm tugging her to her feet using her umbrella to shelter them both. She's shocked when she doesn't bristle at the unexpected and too familiar manhandling. She almost rolls her eyes, what was it with the Han family and finding her during rainstorms? 

"Come on, my house isn't far. I'll make you some soup so you don't catch a cold." The other girl doesn't wait for her reply before she starts pulling her down the sidewalk. She sputters but feels her feet following obediently.

"Oppa is working late, so he won't be there to bother us."

Her heart defiantly jumps at the mention of him, she hasn't seen him in a week. She has dozens of unsent messages to him, cowardice has rendered her fingers useless though. 

"That's good." She lies, "So it'll just be us two?" She's not quite ready to meet any other members of the Han family.

The other girl nods absently, easily easing them into a riveting conversation about a boy at school who won't leave her alone. She offers to beat him up if he keeps on bothering her to which Gowoon laughs gleefully before squealing, "You sound just like Seojun oppa!" She glares at the comparison watching entranced at the young girl's uncontrollable giggles. When was the last time she'd laughed so freely? She had no recollection.

Gowoon wasn't lying and within minutes she's staring at the apartment she's only seen once before. That feels like a lifetime ago.

She immediately regrets her inability to say no to persuasive girl later when they are greeted at the door.

"Gowoon, sweetie is that you?" A maternal voice calls out and she instantly recognizes it, stiffening in the doorway. Stepping back she starts thinking of excuses, but her tongue is too heavy in her mouth and she's too slow as the woman comes around the corner halting her escape. 

She blinks unhurried as the older woman gapes at her clearly not expecting to see anyone besides her daughter.

Gowoon breaks the silence, her voice nonchalant, "Hi mom! This is my unnie Sujin, she's the one who saved me the other day! Is it okay that I brought her here for dinner, I found her in the rain!" Gowoon makes it sound like she picked up a stray puppy outside, but she knows the other girl means no harm. 

Her skin prickles at the question, anxiety filling her stomach without her permission. She's waiting for rejection. For Gowoon’s mother to say that it is not okay and she would rather eat with her daughter without a stranger intruding. 

"Of course! I didn't realize it was the same Sujin." Gowoon looks confused by her mother's statement and she feels embarrassment swarming in her belly. Oh no. She has to stop her before she reveals too much, Gowoon knows nothing and she wants to keep it that way. 

"I didn't realize you knew Sujin too, isn't this Seojun's cru.."

"Classmate!" She suddenly interjects staring at the woman with pleading eyes, she's not ready for Gowoon to know about her brothers “feelings”. She's trying her best to forgot them too.

They both stare at her and she squirms under the scrutiny, before the older woman puts her out of her misery. "Yes, Seojun mentioned her before I didn't realize she was the same person that helped you. Thank you." She freezes as the woman embraces her hand, smiling at her warmly as she thanks her. She can only stare in response, nodding dumbly.

"Come on unnie! I'll get you some warm clothes, you'll catch a cold if you keep wearing those."

She lets herself be tugged into the younger girl’s room. Just like Gowoon the room is bright and vivacious, wall covered in posters and books littering her table. It looks completely normal and it makes her ache, her own room was militarily decorated with nothing out of place and no evidence of her personality. Since she was young her father would inspect it and punish her if anything was untoward. She had stopped trying to make the room look lived in after seeing poster after poster thrown down. 

"Here unnie. You can borrow this." Her eyes bulge at a familiar blue shirt with a puppy on the front. "I know it's so embarrassing but oppa got it for me, it's really warm though." In the end he'd gotten her to wear the ridiculous shirt, she reluctantly goes off to change into the top and leggings. They are the same baby blue hue, making the outfit look like a set. She's thankful the boy isn't here to see her.

"Well don't you look adorable?" Seojun's mom coos at her when she finally comes out of the bathroom, she desperately wants to disappear. The woman must notice her ruby cheeks because she turns with a smile calling out to her daughter, "Gowoon! Come help with dinner!"

Now changed too, into cactus pajamas the younger girl bounds out grabbing an apron and tying it behind her back.

"What are are we making?" She curiously peeks over her mom's shoulder. The air between the mother and daughter is comfortable, the two leaning into each other naturally as they discuss what to make for dinner. She observes with a heavy heart as Gowoon easily puts her head on her mom's shoulder and the woman strokes her cheek lovingly. Something inside her throbs in response.

"Do you want to help?"

Shaking her head to clear the longing she looks at their mom, who's looking back at her with soft eyes already holding out another apron.

She can't control herself her yearning is too large, she stands without hesitation walking to the woman, sucking in a breath when the apron is placed over her shoulders and then tightened snuggly.

"We're making wonton soup. Have you ever made dumplings before sweetie?"

She looks at Gowoon waiting for her reply but then realizes that both pair of eyes are on her and oh, she's talking to her. She called her sweetie. Swallowing thickly she shakes her head before replying, "No. I've never made them before." She waits to be berated or at least chastised for her lack of culinary skills, her father always said a woman's place was in the kitchen.

Nothing happens. The woman hums before smiling again, she's always smiling it's so pretty. She wishes she had the courage to say the words aloud. She doesn't.

"You can help Gowoon chop the vegetables for the filling. Then we can mix it with the ground pork and I'll show you how to make the dumplings." If the woman is disappointed at all at having to teach her she's doing an incredible job of concealing her frustrations.

She accepts the knife when Gowoon hands it to her, both of them working on a wooden cutting board. They've gotten into somewhat of a rhythm slicing the chives and carrots finely for the filling. She'd never chopped vegetables before but their mom had casually stood behind her shocking her so much she almost dropped the knife, but the older woman had easily caught the utensil before holding her hand and manually showing her how to tuck her fingers and mince the vegetables. She froze before imitating the woman, she was good at replicating acts.

"That looks great sweetie! You're a fast learner!" The woman praised her turning back to the broth and adding more seasoning liberally. She preened under the attention smiling shyly before Gowoon shouted out loudly, "What about me mom? How do mine look?" They both looked at the younger girl's unevenly chopped chives and carrots, next to Sujin's perfectly identical veggies all in an even row. The difference between the two is stark. 

"They look fine dear, they'll be hidden in the dumplings anyway." Her mother tries to soothe her ego, patting her shoulder before turning back to her soup dismissively and a burst of laughter explodes from her chest at the offended look on Gowoon's face, her cheeks are red and her mouth is turned down in an exaggerated frown. The younger girl looks positively livid that her mother is not similarly singing her praises and she starts to defiantly chop more vegetables, only to have them come out even worst; even more lopsided and haggard. 

She tries to tamper her laugh but when the younger girl starts whining, crying about how her veggies were “cousins not siblings” she loses it, clutching at the counter for balance. She feels the air bursting from her lungs as she clutches at her stomach, laughing harder when Gowoon glares at her pout on her lips. The older woman joins her rubbing her daughter's back as she cries about her dignity, and then Gowoon looks at them both laughing at her and a smile spreads on her face and soon they are all laughing in the kitchen, soup bubbling beside them as a delicious aroma permeates the room.

None of them hear the front door opening or a deep voice announcing its arrival.

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He's cold, tired and wet. Once again missing the forecast for rain, he really needed to start carrying an umbrella around all the time. What was up with the weather lately anyway? Why was it raining all the damn time?  He absently thinks of a certain someone and hopes she's somewhere warm out of the rain. They always seemed to meet when the sky was pouring and raging. 

It was hard not contacting her but he wanted to listen to her requests and respect her wishes no matter how hard it was for him, it was also getting pathetic being the only one fighting for this. She hadn't outright rejected him after his confession but her silence was an answer in itself and he wanted to respect that. He wasn't too manly to admit that he was hurt, and he was reeling from being pushed away so many times already.

So he followed his mother's advice, he'd given her something that he knew she needed and expected nothing in return.

All week he'd been waking up early to cook for the girl, reading recipes off his phone  fluffy cat headband on his head keeping his fringe out of his eyes. The easier recipes like soup and grilled meats had been simple enough to accomplish but when he ventured into more complicated bento boxes that's when frustrations had arose. They looked so easy but they were tedious and he wasn’t the most patient or detail oriented person. 

He struggled to recreate the detailed meals and almost gave up,  throwing his phone across the room.

That's how his mother had found him, fuming and tugging his hair on the kitchen table. Seconds away from bashing his head into the surface and screaming at the ceiling. 

"What are you doing up so early?" He jumped at her voice, looking around at the mess he'd made in the kitchen with wide guilty eyes.

"I-I can explain." He stuttered out but couldn't come up with a feasible answer once she looked at him expectantly, arms folded. The patented mom stare. 

She had calmly walked across the room picking up his discarded phone, peering at the screen before looking back at him.

"Is this for your friend?" She shook the phone at him knowingly and he pressed his lips tight together, nodding mutely while looking away.

"Okay let's see what you have so far." His mom walked over and assessed what he had already made, nodding with a proud smile. "You did good so far, let me show you how to make a hotdog into an octopus. I did this for you all the time when you were a kid."

He was grateful when she didn't ask him any questions and it became their morning ritual, until he no longer needed guidance and he was able to make the boxes on his own. The satisfaction he felt when Suho would return the containers, clean as a whistle not even a grain of rice remaining was incomparable. It wasn't much but at least she was eating, that was all he needed even if she didn't want to see him or know that he was the one making her meals.

He sighs at himself, he told himself not to think about her but that was proving easier said than done.

Shaking himself at the front door like a wet dog, he tugs his keys from the back pocket of his jeans slotting it on the doorknob and turning.

"I'm home!" He calls out instinctively announcing his arrival as he toes off his drenched boots, but then his eyebrow lifts as he hears peals of laughter coming from the kitchen. He chuckles without knowing the joke, instantly rejuvenated by his family's abundant joy. Slipping on his slippers after hesitating a second because he doesn't recognize the shoe at the front door. When did Gowoon get those and how the hell was his little sister affording Chanel sneakers?

Those thoughts are swarming in his mind when he stomps to the kitchen, all the air sucked from his lungs when he sees an unbelievable vision. His mother and sister are grasping at each other, lost in laughter completely unaware of his presence but the image that most shocks him is Sujin, holding her stomach as she spots something on the counter that sets her off into another bout of boisterous laughter.

He can't help it he starts to categorize her every move, the way her eyes are crinkled and a stray tear is leaking out the corner, the way her nose is scrunched up like a rabbit and the way her mouth is stretched wide, visible even behind the futile shield of her hand. All of his thoughts from earlier regarding not needing to see her dissipate, he wants to tattoo this image in his mind.

"Oh! You're here!" His mother suddenly turns to face him and that causes Sujin to freeze laughter fading off with a whine, regarding him with huge bright eyes. It's almost too much once he notices what she's wearing, he wasn't prepared to see her like this in his house. It's overwhelming in the best way.

"I'm home. I'll go change and come help." Both his mother and Gowoon nod easily no longer paying him any mind but he can feel eyes on him as he runs away, trying to regain his composure and his breath. He purposely avoids Sujin's eyes not ready to see if the walls are back up at his arrival.

When he comes back out the table is already set and they've all taken a seat, the only available chair is between his mom and Sujin, so he takes a calming breath before walking over with fake confidence. He’s used to faking it until he makes it. That could be the name of his biography. 

He answers his family's questions about work and school blowing on the soup before taking a bite of the slightly lopsided dumpling. What it's lacking in appearance it more than makes up for in flavor, he groans at the delicious flavor that dances on his taste buds looking up excitedly at his mom.

"These dumplings are delicious! Thank you for the meal!" He praises his mom, happily chewing at the soft delicacy in his mouth.

"Thank you Junnie, but I didn't make the dumplings. They worked on the filling together but Sujin-ah seasoned and filled the dumplings while I made the broth and your sister helped with the side dishes." His mother smiles proudly over at the two girls, Gowoon beaming with pride but Sujin, almost disappears into her soup her head so close to the steaming hot bowl.

They haven’t said anything to each other and he's nervous to be the one to break this stalemate but he also really wants to talk to her, has wanted to since he stepped through the door and saw her smiling face. Has wanted to since that night he stormed out and didn't look back. So finally he does, gathering all his bravery to finally look over at her.

"The dumplings are great." And when she doesn't look up or seemingly react at all, he tells himself he's fine and he expected that. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, it was his own fault for hoping when she'd explicitly told him to stop doing that.

So he goes back to eating, more lethargic than before eyes locked on nothing but his food and his spoon. It was embarrassing. He knows his cheeks are pink and he hates it.

"Thank you. I just followed your mom's directions. It was nothing."

He pauses, peeking up at her and almost choking when she shoots him a small smile before filling her bowl with more rice.

His heart thumps in his chest. Fuck.

He doesn't hear anything else the rest of the meal, too lost in his thoughts and it's only familiarity that has him standing up when everyone is finished, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink.

"It's almost time for Sunbae, don’t wear those high heels!!" Gowoon shouts, he cringes at the name of the new drama they've been obsessively watching, he'd only tuned in one time before flabbergasted by the exorbitant amount of times the female protagonist had fallen into the arms of various men but especially the male lead. She fell off a balcony into his arms that time, with neither of them needing to be admitted to the hospital somehow. His mother and Gowoon had both hushed him when he'd voiced that particular opinion and he had happily banished himself to his room.

"Oh no, I'm going to miss it because I'm washing the dishes." He replies deadpan as his sister rolls her eyes dramatically at him, "Whatever it's your loss. Let's go I want to see if she's going to choose the sweet bad boy or the cold cute guy!"

He scoffs at the cliché characterizations scrubbing harder at the plate.

"Come on unnie!" Sujin gasps as she's tugged to the living room too, glancing over he sees his little sister place her in the middle of the couch sandwiched between her and his mother. Sujin looks overwhelmed as Gowoon animatedly tries to catch her up on the series. He shakes his head, maybe the show wasn't that bad. He could watch a few minutes with them.

He strolls casually to the living room, easing onto the ground beside his mother's legs after all the dishes are clean and drying.

"What are you doing here? I thought you despised this "cringey" show?" He leans his head back, sighing when his mother eases her fingers into his hair scratching at his scalp and he sighs content in her lap.

"I do. But it's too early to sleep so I have no choice but to watch this crap."

"Mom! He said crap!"

"Watch your language."

His mother scolds him immediately and Gowoon sticks out her tongue at him vindicated because he got in trouble and immaturely he does it back, tugging off her sock much to her chagrin, dodging her when she tries to kick him.

Sujin looks back and forth between them both before discretely looking at their mother, she seems shocked when all the woman does is chuckle and say, "Children please. Do I need to remind you that we have a guest?" He looks away bashfully not wanting to look childish in front of Sujin, he hadn't thought about that. That makes them settle down and he finally looks at the TV, groaning loudly when low and behold the heroine is falling again, tripping over a candy wrapper on the ground.

"She falls a lot. She should probably wear protective gear." Sujin says breaking their new silence and he chuckles at her observation, happy that someone agrees with him, excitedly he turns to her "Right! Last time she fell off a balcony!" He shouts in disbelief and suddenly they're all arguing about the feasibility of someone surviving that. His mother shaking her head fondly at them, choosing to say out of it which makes Gowoon pout because she's outnumbered.

"Okay who would you choose Unnie, the tsundere type or the bad boy with a heart of gold?" Suddenly he's very invested in her answer, he tries not to react staring at the ceiling and breathing evenly but inside his heart is thundering ready to pound out of his chest.

A few seconds drag on and he wonders if she's not going to answer, he doesn't even know why he cares so much but curiously is gripping at him. He knows that this doesn't mean anything necessarily and he's not getting his hopes up but--

"The sweet guy. He just looks like a bad boy but he's sweet to her, he never says anything mean to her. That would be nice." She answers, trailing off at the end and he hears Gowoon instantly disagreeing saying the other guy is way better, but he can barely hear his sister over the thumping of his heart in his ears, he can't help the wide smile that spreads on his face. 

He turns to hide it in his mom's lap.

It doesn't leave his face the rest of the night.

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It's getting late, she knows that it's time for her to take her leave she's been imposing on them for too long but....she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave, they are so warm. She's never seen a family like this outside of television shows, how was it possible that this was their real life? How could they have a mother who was that loving? Everything they did was greeted with fond exasperation, where was the reprimanding or cold backhanded words that cut like a knife?

She'd even treated her kindly, calling her sweetie more than she said her name. And she got used to it similar to how she'd gotten used to Seojun calling her princess, she knew she should fight it but she didn't want to. She was ashamed to say she liked it. 

She tries to soak it up for as long as she can before she says reluctantly, "I should probably go. it's getting late." Then she watches in a daze as the woman races off before returning with containers stacked and tied in a bag.

Before she can argue or refuse their mom is already shaking her head, "You made this so it's only right that you take it home. I won't take no for an answer." At this point that should have been the Han family motto she thinks fondly. But she accepts the food, bowing in gratitude at the simple act of kindness.

"Unnie, can I have your number? I just realized I don't have it and we're so close!" Gowoon thrusts her phone out with two hands, giving her the biggest puppy eyes she's ever seen. Without a word she accepts the phone, punching in her number before handing it back. She hadn’t realized the girl considered them close, but she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. 

"Thank you! I'll text you so you can have my number too." The younger girl dances in celebration before grabbing her in a hug, she awkwardly pats her on the back once before she's finally set free. They're all so naturally affectionate and she's not the least bit accustomed to it, used to harsh words and slaps instead of praises and hugs.

"Get home safely sweetie. Junnie! Where did you go? Come walk her home!" She rushes to say it's okay she doesn't need an escort home, she's fine walking by herself it truly wasn't that far it turned out. But Seojun comes out of his room, changed again with a coat on and a beanie. Walking over to them he thrusts a sweater at her, when she looks blankly he replies sounding defensive, "It's probably colder now. Put this on too." He pushes it at her again firmer and she grabs it, gasping when their fingers brush.

It's a thick dark green sweater with fleece lining the interior and it smells just like his earthy cologne, she wants to give it back. Instead she puts it on over her borrowed long sleeve shirt from Suho and feels like a child playing dress up when it reaches the bottom of her knees. She knows what he's thinking when he smirks at her, she wasn't short he was just a damn giant.

She takes off the slippers and slides back into her sneakers, thankful that they're dry now. She's distracted by Seojun's heat, he's so close to her putting on his own boots. So much so she nearly misses what his mother says, "Get home safely. Please come again soon, I need more maturity in this house." Seojun and Gowoon both shout affronted but all she can see is the genuine smile on her face, she finds herself nodding throat too thick for words. When she's pulled into another hug, this time she has to blink away tears arms still by her side. She’s vibrating from keeping her emotions contained. 

They are walking side by side, the sounds of the city filling the silence that would be present. Every once in a while their arms brush but he moves away after the third time and she feels cold, more so than when the wind blows.

They're getting closer to Suho's apartment and she's wrecking her brain to find something to say to him, knowing that the ball is in her court; it always has been. She's just terrified to swing her racket. What if she misses? Or trips and embarrasses herself? It was usually better to just do nothing then you wouldn't be disappointed.

With each step she loses more courage until they are standing in front of the building and she still hasn't said anything.

Coward.

They stand awkwardly looking at the building pointedly avoiding each other and she finally speaks, "Oh your sweater! Here you go." She says stupidly, not at all what she wanted to say but she starts to pull the sweater off to commit to her exclamation. However he steps back shaking his head at her.

"It's cold. Just wear it upstairs. I'll get it later from Suho, you won't have to see me again. Go up." He sounds deflated, nothing like the animated jokester she'd seen just minutes at his apartment. It aches that she's the one making him act this way.

Then he turns around after looking at her, all of the light drained from his eyes.

He takes three large steps, putting immeasurable space between them in no time and she knows that if she lets him walk away right now he might not come back and that's a gut wrenching thought that makes her chase after him.

Thoughtlessly, she grabs his arm halting his exit from her life.

"Wait!" She shouts, but at the first touch of her hand on his forearm he's already frozen, still in her arms. He doesn't turn around. She shoots him a silent mental thank you, even if it's not his intention it's much easier to say what's on her mind like this without him facing her and her feeling too open and vulnerable. 

"I know you're the one making me food." There was supposed to be a thank you somewhere in there but instead she ends up sounding accusatory, and he tenses instantly his arm tight in her grasp.

"I'll stop. I know you told me to leave you alone. I--just. There's no excuse. I'll stop."

His voice is strained and this is going all wrong already, she's ruining everything.

Letting go of his arm, she sidesteps and brazenly moves directly in front of him. She can't keep hiding from this. She needed to be vulnerable, that was the only way he could understand.

His eyes are wet.

She gasps at the sight, not expecting it and so jealous at his ability to just feel and be seen. She was always hiding from everything. 

"Don't."

He doesn't give her a chance to finish.

"Sujin. Let me go. I know already, I know it all. I can't like you, I shouldn't get my hopes up, I need to mind my business. I know it all!" He shouts, pain marring his face but she notices how he still tugs his arm free gently, still careful about harming her even while he’s breaking down. 

She doesn’t deserve this. 

This is all her fault she knows that to be an objective truth, but the way he throws her own words back at her makes her realize how cruel she'd been while trying to spare him. She hadn't spared anything, the pain in his eyes and voice makes that abundantly clear.

"Don't stop. Don't give up on me." She finishes, staring at him with her own wet eyes, tears prickling at them.

His shoulders sink as he stares at her, lost and hesitant. 

"I'm sorry. I’m sorry for saying those things to you.  I can't promise I won't push you away again. I'm...I'm fucked up Seojun-ah. I'm a fucking mess. But I want to stop, I don't want to push people away."

I don't want to push you away. But she’s still too much of a coward to say that out loud. 

"Sujin, what-what are you trying to say?" He looks at her with guarded eyes, not yet ready to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"I want to be friends."

She watches him wrestle with her sentence, hurt being covered up by a façade and she's not obtuse, she knows that's not the answer he was hoping for. Knows he thinks she's friend zoning and clipping the wings of his feelings.

"That's all I can deal with right now. I have a lot to work on, I need to work on me." It may seem like a cop out, an excuse but it's the most honest she's ever been with herself, it's not that she doesn't like him she might- if the way her heart thumps when he’s around says anything- but more importantly she has realized that she doesn’t like herself.

"Right now." He repeats in awe, she blinks confused before realizing the implications of her words, she starts sputtering trying to backtrack but he's too quick beating her to the punch.

"I can do friends. For now." She blushes at the beaming smile on his face, his happiness over such a small acquiesce is too much. Why did he have to wear his heart so obviously on his sleeves?

They stand simply staring at each other. Locked in the moment.

She might need to remind her heart that they'd only agreed to be friends.

For now.

💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄💄

I don't like onions.

She doesn't know what possesses her to text him first, or what compels her to send that particular message. She starts googling if there's a way to unsend messages, instead finding stories from others regaling their own embarrassing messages and finding solace that she isn't alone in this feeling. 

She jumps when her phone vibrates. Slowly turning it over like it's a ticking bomb.

Of course you'd be a picky eater. Onions are good for you.

She rolls her eyes at the message, he was such a nagger.

It's not good if I don't enjoy it.

Alright princess, noted. No more onions. Are you okay with chicken teriyaki tomorrow?

She recalls the delicious chicken teriyaki he'd made for her just days ago, it was succulent and juicy and she'd fought Suho over it, reminding him that this was her food and she replies quickly.

Yes! Do you have more kimchi?

I do. I'll pack some.

She stares at the phone, in disbelief at the how easy it is to talk to him again, like there was an empty spot in her life, a Seojun shaped gap that was now filled once more. She wasn't fixed, she had meant what she told him; she couldn't examine her feelings for him yet. But she needed him in her life, he was there when she needed someone and now no one else would do.

I missed you.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #bring me to life #chapter 7 #han seojun #kang sujin #Han family superiority #the couple that should have been #I got to write some cute stuff #calm before the storm #maybeeeee #junjin #dedicated to my shooters

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Seen ✓ - 1

REWRITE OF “Can You See The Stars”

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: fear of being kidnapped Word Count: 2.4k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam.  A/N:This is my second attempt at the story everyone loved, with an actual pllot in mind this time. So, attempt number two, better writing, better story. Have at it kids.

I have tagged the old taglist for this first part. Let me know if you wanna be removed/ added

Beta: The lovely @percywinchester27​ . Thank you so so much hon :) Masterlist

Chapter One: you sure know how to fuck me up on a friday night

Y/n   |  Sam

The road to independence is uphill, and Y/n knows this better than anyone. She’s done it all. She’s gone through jobs at a similar speed with which she goes through books, worked two or more of them, while also studying for college… She knows how it works, and it’s really fucking difficult to balance emotional baggage the size of a city, an underage sister and college, while also trying to keep, not only yourself, but another person, alive, under a safe roof with food in your stomachs.

Currently, she’s only working one job, at a dive bar owned by a friend of a friend as a waitress.

It’s a difficult job, and Y/n has struggled with it, but the hardest part is not the endless knowledge one needs to mix drinks –on the nights Joel takes time off and she has to take his spot behind the bar- or the carrying up to twenty pounds of glasses and drinks and delivering them at the right table without soaking herself or anyone else with copious amounts of alcohol. Any minimum wage worker will tell you the same thing- clients of any kind fucking suck. Especially if you’re a young woman at a dive bar after midnight.

Another thing she’s struggled with is not having too much money, which is why she’s needed multiple jobs in the past, so she has to use public transport- buses specifically, to go to and from work. And that is exactly where she finds herself, a couple hours after midnight, at her bus stop, five minutes from the bar, when she finds a phone which, unbeknownst to her, will flip her world upside down.

It sits on the pavement of the bus stop, limp and sad. The screen is cracked a significant amount, and for a second she figures someone got rid of it and was too much of an asshole to throw it in the trash. But the second that thought crosses her mind, the screen lights up with a concerning text.

dude where the fuck are you?!

The contact reads “Sam”, and Y/n stands over the phone staring at it. She’s concerned. What if the phone’s owner is in trouble? The device may have fallen from their pocket on the pavement and cracked because they were running from someone and never made it home, and now whoever is texting them is worried for their well-being. Anxiety grips her heart.

It’s instinct that brings her to kneel down and pick it up. She can’t possibly know when the owner lost it, or how long the phone has been sitting there, but there’s an overwhelming urge to contact this Sam person and let them know what’s going on. Of course, the voice in Y/n’s head tells her that this all could just be a product of her anxiety, but it beats leaving it there and having it be stolen by a passerby.

Whatever, right? Best case scenario, she contacts the owner, who is perfectly safe and sound, and they take their phone back. She’s not really planning to pocket it. It’s fairly damaged anyways. Her own three year old, beat-up, 100$ phone is in better condition.

The bus arrives, and Y/n picks up the phone and boards it.

As she sits in her usual seat in the back, alone in the bus apart from an elderly man asleep with his head on a window and a cap on his head near the front, she starts speculating, eyes glued to the black device in her hands. Who’s the owner? Who is Sam to them? Perhaps a partner? A friend? How did the owner lose their phone? Why would this Sam sound so concerned, and most importantly, is the owner okay?

The heavy weight of dread weighs her chest at the thought of the phone’s owner being in trouble and without a phone. She must contact Sam immediately.

Hey, is this Sam?

As she awaits for a response, her curiosity is killing her. The intrigued part of her, reasons that she should snoop, it’s alright, she’s only looking for more information about the owner. Like whether or not they’re a woman or a man- which, sadly, matters when you’re walking alone in dark streets like the ones around this area- and perhaps their age –because, again, it matters if they are a teenager or a forty-year old adult.

The lack of passcode indicates someone older, with nothing to hide, or perhaps someone less technologically savvy, again, someone who may not be very young. The lockscreen is the most popular Led Zeppelin icon, and she instantly respects their music taste, and the home screen is some generic western movie from the 90s with Clint Eastwood. The chances of this belonging to someone younger further decline.

There’s a grand total of four downloaded apps in the phone. There’s an email app, a scrabble app, a microphone recorder and a dating app, no other sign of social media. Someone over 18 years old, definitely.

Soon, she’s tapping on the dating app, and opening their profile page. Holy shit, she thinks.

A guy, the tall, dark and handsome kind. Spiky hair and a smolder-like smile, sharp edges everywhere on his face apart from his gentle, olive-shaped and colored eyes. His lips are full, his nose straight, and his eyelashes long, dark and thick. He’s a real-life dreamboat, the kind you see in movies and Cosmopolitan articles about sex. He’s sitting on a black muscle car, a Chevrolet, with his thick thighs barely contained in blue jeans.

Dean Winchester, the app writes. 28. Male. Likes: old cars, beer, hard rock, westerns, she figured that much, bacon burgers. Dislikes: pop music, modern horror movies, uncomfortable beds. Not looking for anything serious, just a night of fun ;), and wow, okay, he sounds a bit like a dick. The very Red-blooded American Male kind, that enjoys BBQs and winking at women from across the bar. She’s had enough of those during her line of work; she can recognize them from a mile away.

Whatever the case, her moral compass couldn’t allow her to pass up on the opportunity to possibly help someone in trouble. She ignores her urge to roll her eyes, and scrolls a little, finding other pictures of the same guy, when suddenly two separate notifications appear, the phone itself vibrating. One is from the app, which has now received a picture from this girl, Jamie, one which she certainly doesn’t plan on opening, seeing as it’s followed by a winky face. The second one is from Sam.

jesus dean how drunk are you

yes it’s sam. your brother? remember?

No, this isn’t Dean, uh.

My name is Y/n. Your brother lost his phone at a bus stop, near a bar.

i should’ve figured. dean rarely ever uses punctuation.

nice to meet you i guess

Nice to meet you, too.

So basically, uhm, I thought you might help me return his phone to him? I got worried, because this was dumped on the sidewalk, I thought he may be in trouble or something.

knowing him he probably dropped it while being too shitfaced to function.

gotta admit i’m impressed though. most people would’ve pocketed it by now.

I mean, it’s not much use to me with such a cracked screen haha.

yeah i guess.

i don’t know about getting it back to him though. i’m in kansas right now so i’m not close by. i don’t think i can help you.

he doesn’t use social media either.

Crap.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this phone then?

keep it probably.

You sure there’s no other way I can reach him?

i mean i can give you his email but i’m not sure he’ll respond.

I’ll take it. Thank you :)

no problem :)

As she looks up the bus stops, and she quickly realizes this is her stop. Throwing profanities loudly enough to wake the older man at the front of the bus, she scrambles for her things, haphazardly thrown in the seat next to her, and gets off the bus. She pats herself down, making sure she hasn’t forgotten anything as the doors of the bus shut, and starts down the road to her apartment complex.

She could probably navigate this road blind. There are many ways to reach the apartment she’s renting from the bus stop, but her favorite goes through the park. It’s a large area, full of big trees with thick foliage and leaves that brown in the fall. The paths are paved and winded, and the park benches are stained with dark wood stain and curve comfortably. She enjoys coming here in evenings she has off, watching the sun descend behind the top of the trees with a good book.

The air smells like oncoming rain now, and with headphones deep in her ears, she walks taking deep breaths and enjoying the clear atmosphere that seems so unlike the roads that surround the park. As soon as she spots the first raindrop falling from the sky, she pulls her hood over her head and smiles.

It’s minutes later, when single drops have picked up to a drizzle, that she gets a sinking feeling, her hair standing up on edge at the back of her neck, shoulders knotting closer to her ears. Someone is close to her.

With the wire pinched between her thumb and index, she pulls one earbud off and pays attention to the surrounding sounds. Sure enough there’s a second pair of footsteps behind her.

Fuck, if she gets kidnapped or attacked right now, she’s fucked. There are no witnesses, and at this time of night screaming for help would be futile. She checks her bag, but her paper spray is nowhere to be found.

Yeah. Definitely fucked.

Her hands go deep in her pockets, going for her phone, but as she hears the footsteps behind her picking up speed along with hers, she panics and grabs Dean’s instead. She doesn’t look for her own, there’s no time for that, so she does the first thing she thinks of.

She texts Sam.

I think I’m being followed.

what?

Yeah

wait what’s going on? are you okay? who’s following you?

I’m walking home from work. I can’t see who it is, but they’re definitely on my tail.

how are you even typing right now??

is there any buildings around?  somewhere public to get in?

It’s 3 am. Everything is shut and I’m in the middle of a fucking park, Sam.

Fuck, I’m fucked.

what are you doing at 3 am in the middle of a fucking park then?!

A hand falls on her shoulder and she goes to scream, before she’s quickly spun around. Her free hand is curled in a fist, ready to fall on the attacker’s nose, when they speak.

“Y/n! I thought it was you!”

“Connor?!” She squints and pushes her hair away from her forehead, heart just about ready to fail out of the fright she’s gotten. “Fuck’s sake, dude, what the fuck are you doing sneaking up on me in the middle of the night like this?!” Rain still falls on her, grounding her to the present, the fact she won’t have to fight for her life and corporeal integrity sinking in slowly.

Her neighbor smiles a crooked smile, watching her place a hand over her heart and taking a deep breath. His fluffy blonde hair is damp under the light rain, light green eyes glowing under the street lights. She’s so angry at him right now, she legitimately thought she was gonna die for a second there.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “I didn’t think to call out to you.” A shrug.

“It’s okay,” it’s really not, but there’s no point in staying angry at him. Besides, she figures she’ll be a little safer with him walking next to her all the way back to their apartment complex.

On the way back, they catch up. Connor is back in town after a long week and a half at his sister’s wedding. He’s in a brand new relationship with the guy he’s been pining over for like 9 months now, and he got a job at the bookstore, close to their building, he’s starting next week. He was out for a drink, he offers as an explanation, and was returning home, when he bumped into her. The park is also his favorite route to take.

The key dangles from her hands and finds a home in the lock and twists, while Y/n waves at her neighbor.

“Have a good night, Connor.”

“You too, Y/n.” It’s delivered with a wink and a bright smile.

The motions of dropping her bag by the kitchen counter, dumping the keys in the small bowl and hanging her coat on the hanger are delivered on autopilot in quick succession. Shoes toed off, hair pulled out of her lazy bun, she falls unceremoniously on her thrifted couch, feet suspended on the hand rest. Emmy must be asleep, the only lights on in the house are the fairy lights over the couch, setting a soft glow over the furniture. Y/n sighs. What a day.

Seconds before she falls asleep on the couch, a phone vibrates and it’s definitely not her own. Her eyes snap wide open, and she curses, fumbling with Dean’s device.

The messages are seven, and they all share the same panicked tone. Upon reading them, Y/n facepalms and curses, guilt weighing her down. Poor guy.

y/n?

what’s going on?

are you okay?

y/n

what the hell is going on.

you’re not replying.

please text me if you’re safe.

My God, Sam, I’m so sorry.

It was a neighbor/friend, he sneaked up on me.

you sure know how to fuck me up on a friday night.

I’m genuinely so sorry, Sam, I had no idea it was him.

it’s okay

you were scared.

i am starting to question your choice in friends though.

Y/n grins for the first time that day. It’s wide and full. Sam sounds like a guy she’d hang out with.

Hahahah yeah.

I promise, Connor’s odd, but he means well.

well i have to go

but i’m glad you’re safe

Again, I’m really sorry to make you go through that.

it’s fine really.

Thank you.

Goodnight :)

Night :)

 ---

Part 2

A/N 2: Tell me how you’re liking the rewrite! 

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove​ @sammysgirl1997​ @kymberlytorres​ @bambi95-blog​ @demonic-meatball​ @thekarliwinchester​ @littlekay15​ @li-m-ii​  @thinspo-isuppose​ @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker​ @marichromatic​ @illuminatus42​ @lazy-author​ @mirandaaustin93​ @hauntedsiriel​ @pilaxia​ @devilgirlsarah​ @nobodys-baby-now​ @captiveties​ @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream​

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes​ @captainmarvelcorps​ @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away​ @nellachain​

#sam winchesterx reader #sam x fem!reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfic #sam x reader

[midnightartemis]

Chapter One

Rated M - See AO3 For Tags - SFW - Chapter Two - Masterlist

“Do you fear death, young Skywalker?”

A dark marble hallway stretched out in front of Ben. It seemed to go on forever. With every step, the hall only grew longer. 

“Do you fear the darkness?”

He broke into a run, heart pounding in time with his feet hitting the marble floor. Ben ran as fast as he could and yet the hallway only grew longer. His feet only grew heavier. Something chased after him, but he did not look back.

“So much like your grandfather and, yet, so weak. So afraid of the power you wield.”

Whatever chased him was gaining on him. It was futile to run, Ben knew that. Still, he kept going, even as his feet grew heavier and heavier with unseen weight.

“You could do it, you know. You could finish what he started. His blood runs through you.”

The voice came from behind him. The words the darkness hissed wrapped like snares around his feet. 

“Let me into your mind and your enemies will know your power. They will learn to fear you, truly. They will learn what you are capable of. What you were born to do.”

Every step was a struggle now, but he could see the end of the hallway finally. Just a few more steps. Just a few more meters. 

“Your fate is decided already, young Skywalker. Do not fight it. Do not fight me.”

He reached for the door as his feet ceased to work. He wasn’t strong enough to make it. He wasn’t strong enough to not look back. A low chuckle came from behind him.

“They will never understand you. They will never save you. Give into me.”

Ben turned and faced the darkness behind him. In seconds, it swallowed him into bottomless depths. 

He woke with a jolt. A thin layer of cold sweat covered his skin and soaked into the sheets of his bed. Ben slowly pushed himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

Every night it was the same. Nightmares. Terrors. The voice in his head eating away at him with all he already knew; his end would not be a happy one.

This night… This night was the first night Ben had not even touched the door at the end of the hallway. It was as if the voice was growing stronger and Ben weaker with it. Ben shook his head. It was nothing more than a nightmare. It had to be. 

He looked around his single bedroom. There wasn’t much there. His trunk sat half unpacked on his desk chair. A pile of books had somehow ended up on his desk with a new set of parchment and ink. Whoever had left the books had also placed new robes in his wardrobe. One of his mother’s assistants or Threepio. Ben knew she couldn’t be bothered to do it herself. 

The only thing Ben truly owned was his calligraphy kit and a small pile of muggle books that sat in his suitcase. The rest of it was all… Noise. 

A flicker of movement brought his eye to the window that looked out into the depths of the Black Lake. Ben watched as a school of fish swam by in the dim green light that somehow made its way from the surface. 

It was his last day completely alone. In a few hours, the halls of Hogwarts would be filled with students excited for the start of the semester. The halls would fill with chatter of hopes and dreams and plans for classes. Friends separated by the summer would be reunited. And Ben would be forced to sit in the Great Hall and watch as everyone pretended to enjoy Headmaster Kenobi’s Start of Term speech. 

At least now he wouldn’t have to go completely out of his way to avoid seeing Rey. The last week had been hell to see her face. It was nearly impossible to make himself sit still and not tell her how sorry he was for what he said in the forest. 

He had no choice; he knew that much. After what happened in India…

He had no choice. 

☽◯☾

Ben’s plan, if he could manage it, was to avoid the feast at all costs. After three years of it, he had come to understand that festivities weren’t for him. The Prefects would come looking for him in the dormitory. While he knew he could use the cloak to hide in his room, Ben also knew that the dormitory would be raucous after the feast was over. It was better to find one of the many nooks and crannies throughout Hogwarts and wait it out until everyone went off to bed. 

He had a few places to hide throughout the castle, but his favorite spot was near the top of the North Tower. A window was tucked away behind a set of stairs. There was just enough room to squeeze himself into the window well (though it was getting harder every year as he grew). The window overlooked the gates to Hogwarts and most of the grounds, giving him a birds-eye view of most of the castle. The best part was that unless someone knew exactly where to look, they would never find him. 

A thick fog rolled over the castle grounds midafternoon as Ben sat in his window well and read. In India, he’d picked up Wuthering Heights over the summer and found himself wandering the moors with Catherine and Heathcliff. He found himself wishing to be back at Hogwarts, wandering similar moors. Now that he was back, the words of Emily Brontë rang even clearer. 

For all its flaws, he considered Hogwarts home. The castle was only home he’d ever really known. He’d spent much of his childhood running around its halls, discovering its many secrets. Though not all of them, if the Room of Requirement proved anything. 

As a line of carriages pulled by winged skeletal horses approached the gates of Hogwarts, Ben closed the book and tapped his wand against the cover. The Wuthering Heights cover formed into an old copy of History of Magic as transfiguration magic took hold. It was bad enough to be caught reading for fun. It was worse to be caught reading muggle literature. 

Ben watched the carriages for a moment as rain began to fall over the castle. Students in their black robes made the mad dash up the stairs and through the main doors. From here, the only thing not visible to him was the lake where the First Years would be making their crossing, even in the rain. 

He remembered what it was like to make that first journey across the lake. He remembered how excited he was for his first year. He remembered bitterly, painfully how quickly it all fell apart. Imprinted in his memories were the terrified looks of his classmates as the sorting hat called out Slytherin. It was impossible to forget how quickly everyone had turned on him. 

That was until Rey. 

He’d been so quick to dismiss her, to write her off until that day in the Room of Requirement. 

Ben had to stop thinking about her. What was done was done. It had to remain that way. 

He turned to the window once more and watched as a raindrop raced down the glass. A moment, later, Ben felt a chill race up his spine. He froze as the weight of eyes hit him. Someone was watching him. Every hair on his neck stood on end as his eyes were drawn to the courtyard below. The last of the students were leaving the carriages, but all were too busy running from the rain to look up and see him. 

In the peripheries of his vision, a darkness shifted at the edge of the forest. Ben’s eyes darted to it, but found only branches rocking against the storm’s wind. Dread latched onto his gut and began to sink. He knew far too much about the wizarding world and the Forbidden Forest to fully believe he was giving into paranoia. But it was far easier to cling to the idea that his eyes were playing tricks than to accept that something or someone had been watching him. 

Perhaps it was time to find a new hiding place. It was growing dark which made it impossible to read without a light source anyway. Besides, the feast would be beginning at any moment. With it, the entire school, students, professors, ghosts, and all would be preoccupied for a good hour at the least.

Ben slipped from the window sill and set off down the stairs. He didn’t bother to put on his cloak. He knew the castle well enough to pass through unseen without it. His luck turned, however, when he turned a corner and ran almost straight through Peeves the Poltergeist. 

“Sulky Solo wandering alone?” Peeves cackled and alighted atop the suit of armor he had been messing with. Likely, he had been working on loosening the suit’s fastenings so it would fall apart the moment a first year touched it. “Skipping feasts. Naughty, Naughty!”

“Bug off, Peeves.” 

“Ooooo,” Peeves swept down to circle Ben as he walked. “Someone’s got their trousers in bunches.”

Ben said nothing and Peeves floated into his path to stop him. One wrong move with Peeves and Ben knew the poltergeist would find every opportunity to torment him for the rest of the year. The last thing he needed was to be nearly killed by a chandelier this year. Before Ben could say anything, footsteps rounded the corner behind him. Peeves vanished with a screech, leaving a sulfuric stench behind him. 

“Mister Solo,” called a low, naisily voice. 

Ben gritted his teeth and turned to face Professor Tarkin. The man was as thin and gaunt as ever. He wore his usual dark grey robes of hard angles and straight lines that matched his posture and personality. 

“You are to be in the Great Hall at this time.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ben nodded. There was no denying that. 

“As it seems you have lost your way, I will escort you there. Afterwards, I would like to speak to you in my office.” The professor turned stiffly and began down the hall in the direction of the feast. After a moment of cursing Peeves, Ben followed. To his dismay, Professor Tarkin led him to the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance of the hall, just as they were closing behind the sea of First Years parading inside. 

Eyes turned to him as he quickly made his way to the end of the Slytherin table. It didn’t help that he was the only one not in his robes, just the white button down and slacks. At least most of the student body was distracted by the arrival of the first years. All but Poe Dameron, of course, who smirked at Ben from the Gryffindor table. Ben scowled back. He couldn’t wait to spend a majority of the year with that pompous git. 

Poe Dameron hadn’t always gotten on his nerves. There was a time where Ben had been close to him, even called him a friend. That quickly went out the window when Poe realized that no one wanted to be around the strange, lonely weirdo. Poe was smart, charismatic, and a real dick for laughs. Girls and boys flocked to him in droves. Every year the Poe Dameron fan club got bigger. Poe’s attention was swept away by Zorri Bliss, his on again off again infatuation for the last year. 

Ben settled into his seat as Professor Tano climbed the steps to the professors’ table and stood beside the Sorting Hat. She unfurled her list of names and one by one the terrified looking First Years took their turns wearing the hat. Unlike last year, there were no surprises, no mysteries. The Sorting Hat worked through everyone with little hesitation. As if she knew he was thinking of her, Rey’s eyes caught his own across the call. Her face hardened, but she didn’t look away from him. She was challenging him to be the one to break first. 

Maybe she knew he was already broken. 

Ben looked away. 

With the hat’s announcement of Ohino Zaya’s placement in Gryffindor, Headmaster Kenobi stood. He waited for the Gryffindor table to settle before speaking. Though being nearly seventy, the man was anything but frail and weak (most wizards lived to be well into their one hundred twenties, at least). He was one of the most powerful wizards to ever live, after all. 

“With the conclusion of our sorting ceremony, I would like to give all a hearty welcome to Hogwarts. Whether you are new or old to these halls, know that Hogwarts will always welcome you home. I would like to take a moment to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all who wish not to die an untimely death. On that note, let the feast begin!” Headmaster Kenobi gestured to the tables and a moment later almost every square centimeter was filled to the brim with food.

Ben wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to be there, but he made himself eat anyway. He listened to two of the Slytherin prefects, Bazine and Grummgar, complain about First and Second Years. They were the two new Fifth Year Prefects and couldn’t be more opposite of each other. Bazine was tall, skinny as a broomstick, with jet black hair cut to a severe line at her jaw. Grummgar, on the other hand, was large with a thick neck and bulging brow. No one knew if the odd pair were dating or just friends. They seemed equally affectionate and callous towards each other. Most were far too scared of Bazine to ask. Bazine caught Ben listening in to their conversation and flicked her dark eyes over him with a smirk. 

Ben shifted and turned his gaze to the head table filled with professors. Amilyn Holdo, Head of Hufflepuff and Professor of Biology, chatted happily with Deputy Headmistress Ahsoka Tano, Head of Gryffindor and Professor of Transfiguration. They were joined every once in a while by a comment from Maz Kanata, Professor of Divination and owner of the Leaky Cauldron. As if the tiny half-goblin woman felt his gaze, Maz turned her coke bottle glasses in Ben’s direction. Ben swallowed and looked away. He had no intention of taking divination again this year, not even after Maz’s insistence. It had only made his dreams worse and made him question if they were only dreams at all. 

At the other end of the table, Professor Tarkin had taken his seat and scowled over the student body even as he ate. Ben could feel the Professor’s annoyance even at the other end of the hall. The wizard’s mood was only made worse by being sat between who Ben could only assume were Professor Tarkin’s least favorite people- Professor Kuill, Head of Ravenclaw, and History Professor Lor San Tekka- who were in the processes of yelling to each other over him. 

At the center of the table, Luke looked to be arguing with Kenobi. Though Ben couldn’t hear his uncle, he knew the argument wasn’t going in his favor if Kenobi’s passive face was any indicator. Kenobi said something in return and Luke pinched his mouth shut before sitting back. 

A roaring laugh came from the farthest corner of the head table and Ben didn’t want to look. His father and Chewie sat together, treating the feast more like a party than a school event. He knew exactly what story they were telling to the First Years who would listen. It was the same one every year about how Han’s prized Millenium Falcon broom made the Kessel Run in under twelve days. The First Years ate it up even though the story was exaggerated at best. Bullshit at worst. 

The feast lasted far too long. The students were taking their time working through the courses, preoccupied with catching up and getting to know the new students. By the time desert was finished, even the professors had begun yawning. Kenobi stood and waited for the chatter to die down and eyes to turn to him. 

“Delicious. The term feast never disappoints. I wish you all the very best in your academic endeavors this year and a very happy start of term. Hogwarts welcomes you always. First Years, you will be escorted to your dormitories by your Prefects. The rest of you I trust will find your way!”

With that, the Great Hall erupted into a giant crowd of students heading for the main door all at once. Ben stood and slipped out the nearest side door. The hall just beyond was narrow, nothing more than a forgotten passage used mostly by professors. No doubt some of the professors would be using it just the same as him, so Ben didn’t stay long. He slipped back into the main halls of the castle, but turned to his left instead of heading for the sea of students at the main stairs. 

Tarkin would be expecting him. At that thought, Ben dragged his feet. He had no idea what the professor wanted to speak about. Part of him was scared to know. He didn’t have much of a choice though. There was no avoiding the inevitable, so Ben made his way to the dungeons and towards the potion master’s office.

Ben walked through the open classroom door. He stopped as his eyes landed on the closed door to the storage room. Memories rushed at him of Rey scowling at a stubborn stain. Her stifled laughter at something he said (he wasn’t funny- he knew that). The way her cheeks flushed pink after she kissed him on the cheek. 

Each memory felt like a stab to the gut. A curse on his soul. 

“Enter.”

Ben stepped inside the circular stone room. Jars and vials filled the short shelves against the walls. A round table sat in front of them filled with books and parchments all organized with military precision. Tarkin looked up from his work, his grey eyes landing on Ben. 

“You wanted to see me, Sir.”

“Yes. Mister Solo. Please, sit.” Professor Tarkin folded his hands in front of him and waited for Ben to sit down. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

Ben shifted in his seat. What future? He couldn’t see one, only darkness. “No, sir.”

“Hm.” Professor Tarkin looked him over with cold, calculating eyes. “A bright young boy such as yourself should be thinking about these things. You are entering your Fourth Year. O.W.L.s are not far away. You excel in your classes and far surpass your classmates. With your family, you can have any position you desire.”

Ben glowered.  Is that all he would ever be? Ben Solo, son of the Prime Minister, nephew of the man who defeated Darth Vader and Darth Sidious. Did they know who his family really was? The dark secrets they held? No. They never would. They would never understand who their heroes were. 

“I want nothing to do with my family.” Ben spat.

If Tarkin was at all surprised by Ben’s words, he hid it well. “Of course, Mister Solo. You are accomplished in your own regard.”

Not enough for his mother. Though she had given up on trying to make him make friends, make a good name for himself long ago. Now she just shuttled him off half-way across the world to be rid of him. Ben hadn’t stepped foot in Leia’s home in more than a year. 

“Much like your grandfather.” 

He scoffed. His grandfather. There was only one whom Tarkin, or anyone, would have any interest in. Ben doubted Professor Tarkin cared for his father’s muggle parents. “Darth Vader.”

“Anakin Skywalker.” 

Ben stilled. No one ever spoke of his grandfather to him. Everything he knew, he knew through books, through articles in the Daily Prophet, though hushed gossip. Ben forced himself to meet Tarkin’s eye. The professor’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Ah… No one has told you about your grandfather, have they?”

Ben shook his head. “You knew him?”

“He was my pupil for a short time. Same as you.”

This man knew his grandfather. This man knew everything no one would tell him. Ben sat up straighter. “What was he like?”

“Intelligent. Resourceful. Ambitious. A proud Slytherin.” Tarkin lowered his voice as if he were afraid someone would be listening in. “Everything they say about him is false. They were afraid of him, afraid of his power. They did what scared wizards do, they cast him aside. Took everything from him. Your grandfather is not the man you think he is.”

In the back of his mind, Ben heard a dark voice whisper. It wasn’t the one from his dreams, however. No, this voice was familiar, one he’d heard since he was a child.

“Listen to him… He tells the truth of it… Listen, young Skywalker, and you will see…”

Read Me on AO3 - Chapter Two - Masterlist

#reylo #reylo au #rey x ben solo #reylo ao3 #reylo fanfiction

[gigi-sinclair]

5000th Post Ficstravaganza: Part 4/5

Part 1 is here (The Terror, Joplittle, Pancake Day)

Part 2 is here (The Terror, Joplittle, Edward’s spectacles)

Part 3 is here (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, bathing)

For @arcticelves, who requested “Joplittle, a dark and stormy night.”

“Smooth Sea Never Made Skilled Sailor”, rated G

Another wave crests against the bow of the ship. Terror pitches up roughly, then rolls down with just as much force. In the nick of time, Thomas yanks his pen away from the paper, saving his letter to Bobby from an unsightly scribble.

Long ago, in his early days on the Racer, such a storm would have had Thomas heaving his guts out into a bucket. He can hear the dulcet sounds of retching from other, less experienced men, but Thomas' concern is only for the provisions. He listens to the jars and bottles clinking in the specially designed shelves of his pantry, and prays nothing will slip loose.

It is not his pantry, of course. It is the captain's. In reality, as on many ships, the little room is the exclusive domain of the captain's steward. Even Crozier himself stays away. Thomas is surprised, therefore, when, in this weather, at this time of night, there comes a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Thomas calls. The lamp by his side gutters. The door swings open to reveal the ship's second-in-command, Lieutenant Little, standing soaked to the skin with a rueful expression on his face.

“Sorry to disturb, Mr...Jopson, wasn't it?”

“That's right, sir.” Thomas stands, steadying himself against the bulkhead.

“I saw your light on,” the lieutenant continues, as if he has to explain anything to a man of Thomas' rank. “Thought you might be so kind as to be of assistance.” He holds up an arm. His sodden rain cloak is marred by a long tear. “Got knocked over by that last wave. Snagged it on a rivet.”

“Of course, sir. Allow me.”

Thomas helps him unfasten the cloak, and Little removes his hat. The lieutenant's thick, dark hair is dripping.

“Here, sir.” Thomas takes a neatly folded tea towel from the shelf in the corner, and passes it to him. It's not much, but he fancies Little gives him a grateful look as he swipes the cloth over his wet face. He then scrubs at his hair, leaving it in such disarray, Thomas smiles.

“Hell of a storm tonight,” Little comments. He sets the wet cloth down on the built-in work table beside Thomas.

“Yes, indeed.”

Thomas moves the cloak nearer to the light. The rip is along a seam, thankfully. It won't take much to mend it. He opens the nearest drawer and pulls out his sewing kit.

“Oh, I apologize,” Little points at the half-finished letter beside the lamp. “You were busy.”

“Nothing that can't wait, sir.”

“Writing to your sweetheart?”

It is casual conversation of the type some officers occasionally feel compelled to make with Thomas, to prove they see him as a person and not simply a tool to serve their needs. Those officers are rare, but Thomas appreciates them greatly. While they have known one another only a short time, he's not surprised, somehow, that Lieutenant Little is a man of this sort.

“My brother.” He threads his needle, cutting off the excess with his teeth. Little looks at him rather intently. “I plan to post it in Greenland,” Thomas goes on, feeling suddenly awkward. “It will be our last chance to send anything for some time.”

“Quite.”

Thomas pushes the large needle through the thick fabric of the cloak, then pulls it out again, over and over. The silence stretches. Since Little has already proven himself an officer who does not mind casual conversation with the likes of Thomas, Thomas says, “Do you have any, sir?”

Little blinks. “Sweethearts?”

“Brothers.”

“Ah. Yes.” Edward clears his throat, clearly embarrassed. It's rather sweet. Which is not a thought that will ever get you anywhere, Thomas reminds himself. Particularly not on a five year sea voyage. “I have far too many, I'm afraid. And sisters, as well.”

“I'm sure they will be missing you.”

“I wouldn't be so certain.”

The ship jerks, and Thomas' needle plunges into the flesh of his thumb. “Damn!” He should have used a thimble, particularly in this weather. Thomas brings his hand to his mouth, sucking off the bead of blood before it can fall onto Lieutenant Little's cloak.

“Are you all right?”

Thomas glances up to see Little's inky eyes brimming with concern. “I'm fine, sir.” He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his thumb. The injury is minor. It has already stopped bleeding. “I'm nearly finished here.”

“You are fast.”

“I have been doing this job for quite some time.”

“Of course. You were on the Antarctic expedition with Ross, weren't you?”

“That's right.”

“That must have been fascinating. I would love to hear your stories, if ever you have the time.”

“I would like that, sir.” Like it rather too much, perhaps, but Thomas is no naive ship's boy. He trusts himself not to lose his head over a handsome officer, even one as charming as Lieutenant Little is proving to be. “Here you are.” Thomas snips off the thread and stands. He takes a step closer to the lieutenant, holding out the repaired cloak; at the same moment, strong waves buffet the ship. Thomas loses his normally sure footing, and finds himself propelled into the other man.

Little's arms come up at once, steadying Thomas put not pushing him away. For what seems like a short eternity, they are pressed chest-to-chest, so close Thomas can see the raindrops still shining in the lieutenant's thick whiskers, and feel the warmth of his body beneath his damp clothing. He smells like wet wool, but also like the storm itself. Like something powerful and unpredictable.

An image pops into Thomas' mind, fleeting and entirely unbidden, of Lieutenant Little closing the scant distance between them and pressing his lips to Thomas'. His kisses would be soft, Thomas thinks, his mouth gentle but with a scratch of stubble around it. Just the way Thomas likes best.

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Thomas steps back abruptly, pressing the cloak into the lieutenant's hands.

“It's quite all right, Mr. Jopson.” The lieutenant's voice has taken on a strange, strained quality. Thomas hopes he is not falling ill, out there in the rain and the cold. “Thank you very much for your assistance.”

“It was nothing.”

Little seems poised to say more. Instead, he nods. “I'll bid you good night, then. Let you get on with your letter.”

“Good night. Please be careful up on deck.” The words slip out, although they are hardly the sort of thing one says to a senior officer. Thomas cringes inwardly. If Little is offended by the insubordination, he doesn't show it.

“Thank you,” he repeats. Then he is gone, shutting the pantry door behind him.

Thomas takes up his pen again, reading over his last paragraph, a description of the fearsome storm. But despite the poor weather, he continues, I find myself in very congenial company, and eager to continue our adventures north.

He signs off with his love, folds the letter into its envelope, and picks up the towel made wet by Lieutenant Little's face and hair. The urge, inexplicable and strong, hits him to linger over it, even to press it to his own face. Instead, he tosses it into the laundry basket beneath the table. That will be quite enough of that nonsense, Thomas tells himself sternly. The ship shudders once more, and Thomas heads for his berth, firmly pushing all thoughts of Lieutenant Little from his mind.  

#the terror #joplittle #5000th post ficstravaganza

[sageclover61]

Batteries Not Required

AN: I just wanted to write a short story in true second person. No YN, no Y/N, not reader insert. It was supposed to be a short story about a Samuel Winchester with such a screwed up sense of self that it made sense to be in the second person. I’ve been obsessed with the Second Person Voice since before  I read Bright Lights Big City by Jay McInerney in the 9th grade, which was recommended to me in a failing attempt to satisfy this hunger.

But it’s not a short story. And this six year old narrator is one Sam Winchester with Auditory Processing Disorder. Who John Winchester tries (succeeds?) at sacrificing to one Gabrieloki.

Please enjoy this introduction. Warning, John Winchester isn’t a very nice guy.

________________________________________________________________

Sir sliced your forearm with the silver dagger and you tried not to flinch as your blood ran out onto the ground. The containment circle you were inside was made of animal blood and a powder you were unfamiliar with, and you had no idea how it was holding because the rain had already thinned the circle.

 It was dark and cold and you were soaked through your old tattered clothing. The rain hadn't stopped yet, but you could remember recent days that were long and hot. But the sun always disappears eventually.

 This was for De. That was the only part of Sir's explanation you had understood and it was the only part that mattered. You needed De like a tree needed water. His existence made yours bearable.

 "You have to want this, Sam," Sir had said, slower than he'd ever spoken to you before. "Loki only accepts willing sacrifices." The first sentence had made enough sense, but you did not comprehend the reason behind it.

 "De?" you had asked instead. You didn't need to understand anything, as long as following the instruction meant getting him back.

 "If you don't do this, you will never see your brother again."

 You might have tried your best to follow Sir's instructions anyway, but there was no way you were going to do anything to put De at risk.

 It's one of the few certainties of your life. There were three. De is stability, Sir is not to be trusted, and the burning and acrid scent that often surrounds him means pain and shouting and words you couldn't comprehend.

You don't smell it now, but you knew it was coming. You're kneeling and bleeding on the ground in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night and it's raining. You're not stupid and nothing is capable of surprising you. Whenever this is over, there’s going to be so much pungent scent you won’t be able to smell anything else.

"Find Loki," Sir commanded suddenly. It was the one command you had learned to always hear, and follow, though it always made your head feel further filled with sawdust and so much pain. It was also like filling your head with garage sale artifacts and pieces of things that didn't belong to you.

But you followed the command, closing your eyes and reaching for the figure who Sir believed could return De.

"Gabrieloki," your subconscious whispered. Behind closed eyes you saw a hasty sketch, like from an old book, but it was wrong. A facade of indifference behind a mask of anger behind so much pain it left you gasping for breath.

"Find Loki! You worthless waste of space!" Sir screamed. You felt rather than saw the foot coming over the circle to kick you right in the lower part of your stomach and your forehead slammed into the ground because it hurt too much to stay upright.

"Gabrieloki," you begged, too quietly for Sir to register the sound. You needed De.

There was a flash of light in your peripheral, but you didn't move. Sir's trained you well. Most of the time, it never even occurs to you to flinch.

De would call it self-preservation, but De isn't here. You haven't seen De in a very long time. But you don't want to think about that because it makes you feel sad.

You had felt abandoned then. De had left and you still wondered if you'd ever see him again and at the time you had believed that the very least he could do was take you with him.

But Sir has not let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time and now, finally, you understand. Sir is here, with you and De is gone away from Sir,

And you've never wanted anything else more.

"It has been a very long time since a moron thought sacrificing snake skin to me was a good idea. I thought I was always clear about the necessity of a willing sacrifice."

It wasn't so much the voice of the new arrival that drew your attention back as it was the raindrops splattering on your head.

Sir said something in answer, but you had no idea what. Sometimes you get lost in your head and words have no meaning. Even when you're paying attention, they'll sometimes exist in a state of meaningless flux. Just like you.

"A willing sacrifice must be able to consent to being the sacrifice of their own free will, or else it's not a willing one."

"He is a willing sacrifice! Tell him, Sammy! Your sacrifice for Dean's return to me!"

You looked up at the figure you had brought here. Gabrieloki. His expression was one filled with rage, but you knew it wasn't rage towards you. Another mask. You thought his true mess of feelings might include sadness, but it hurt too much to try to dig deeper.

"De?" You wanted to see De. Nothing else mattered. You could be whatever he wanted you to be if it meant that you could join De away from Sir.

The edges of his anger seemed to fade, but maybe it was because it wasn’t you that he was mad at. But then the anger flared as he directed his gaze towards Sir. “You would exchange one son with another as though they are items to be bartered with?!”

You had to remind yourself that his displeasure wasn’t at you, not like Sir’s when you messed up the salt lines. Or anything else.

“I will do whatever it takes to get back my firstborn! Sammy’s not so unwilling a sacrifice, why won’t you accept it?!” The sound of falling rain and the occasional bird are infinitely more interesting to you than Sir’s current tirade. His loud and angry bustle was normal. Either there would be pain, or there wouldn’t be pain, and it was so commonplace that you were incapable of caring one way or the other any longer. Either was temporary. You would get your De back.

You knew your view of pain wasn’t the healthiest, but it reminded you that you were more alive than the oscillating language you so greatly related to. Did you sometimes wish your pain was greatly lessened? Absolutely. But to feel as though you were only moments from disappearing, not unlike the sounds that vanished in moments, was not any better.

You didn’t like feeling like water in a sieve, as though you had to hold close every fragment of yourself or watch it flow down the drain.

“What makes you think I would be willing to give you another son when you’re willing to so thoughtlessly discard the one you still have? This supposedly ‘consenting sacrifice’ is not walking into this with both eyes open, as I have always demanded.”

You were curious about the Gabrieloki. You had no idea who he was, only that Sir had demanded you summon him, so you did. You did not know what Sir had been asking of you, to be his willing sacrifice.

He was shorter than Sir and the physical differences extended to him looking less harsh. The complexities of his dialogue meant absolutely nothing to you, but that wasn’t relevant. Even with what little comprehension you did have, you were not so stupid as to not understand that they were talking about you.

You could be a good judge of character when you wanted to be and what you wanted was to get closer and understand. You settled yourself to speaking up instead, even though there were times when it was nearly impossible to say anything at all. “De? De afe?”

“Shut up!”

You didn’t look at Sir, but you knew the Mad Voice was directed at you. You knew that the word ‘stop’ was not spoken, but tone can carry intention.

You saw Sir raise a foot in anger, again, and this time you were unable to hold back the flinch. You only wanted pain as a necessary way to stay in reality.

You were already firmly in reality.

But the foot never connected. There was sudden silence and Sir appeared to be frozen in mid air.

The raindrops had stopped falling. They were still in the air, but not in motion.

You felt a tingling at the edge of your senses and your attention returned to Gabrieloki, a name which was decidedly too long. He looked more like an El, anyway.  He wasn’t moving, but his stillness wasn’t as unnatural as Sir’s or that of the water droplets.

You were still kneeling right in front of him, so you settled back on your haunches. The only sound was you and the soft breathing of the one you were considering. You thought about smudging the lines of the containment circle, but you knew that it wasn’t holding him here, that he could leave whenever he wanted to. That he hadn’t left yet, and even the fact that he had shown up at all, meant that he had some reason to not leave yet.

You knew it was because of you. That should have scared you, but you weren’t frightened at all. You were happy.

In a moment of lightning inspiration, you knew what to do.

You pulled De’s stolen and unopened chocolate bar from your back pocket. He’d given it to you “In case of an emergency,” at a time close to the falling apart of everything. You didn’t want to recall the moments leading up to De being gone.

You held it towards El. You still had no idea what a willing sacrifice was, or what it had to do with you. But maybe he’d like a chocolate bar? “De? De afe?” you repeated, waving the candy bar.

El grinned and took the candy bar from you. Then he broke it into equal halves without removing the wrapper. You could tell that it was very melted chocolate bar and hoped that he wouldn’t mind.“Yes, Dean is safe.”

Then nothing mattered. You needed De, but Sir wasn’t safety, so De was better off wherever he was unless you could get to safety too. Then you could have him back.

“You’re a conundrum, aren’t you, Sammy.”

With the rest of the world in silence, it was easier to follow what was spoken. But they were just words. You didn’t have to know what they meant in a sentence to understand that the tone was not one of anger. Almost a chiding friendliness.

You didn’t try to piece enough words together to respond. You expected that he didn’t need a response. You merely watched to see what he would do.

He tossed the second half back at you and delicately removed the wrapper from his half. You stared at your half.

“I know what John wants, and I think I know what your brother wants.”

You unwrapped your half of the chocolate bar because you were sure that it was his intention for you to eat it, even though you didn’t understand why. The chocolate bar was more melted than you’d thought and you managed to get it all over your hands before you had any pieces to put in your mouth.

You tilted your head at the word ‘brother’. You were sure he was talking about De, even if the rest of the sentence was entirely lost.

Did he know where De was? Could he take you to him? Would he be willing to do so, if you were on your best behavior and asked really nicely?

The silence persisted until your train of thought ended and you tilted your head to study the stranger again. What did he want in exchange?

“What do you want, Kiddo?”

#Second Person narrator #Sam Winchester #Gabriel #kid fic #supernatural fanfiction

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

If it’s alright to request, how about playing in the rain & TOS Spock? Perhaps where he and reader are on shore leave and it starts to rain. Reader misses the rain and she runs out to play in it. Spock doesn’t understand it but he finds that he likes watching the reader being so happy. And it turns out that he may just have a bit of a soft spot for her because she’s able to pull him out into the rain with her. Thank you!

{ This was lovely to write, so I hope you’ll find it lovely, too.

Don’t forget to like or reblog if you like my writing, that would make me so glad! }

Everyone can still asks for Prompts:

>>Fluff Bingo Prompts

☔ MISTER SPOCK ☔

It was a common M-Class planet, a planetlike many others, which would become a colony for a race who had already losttheir homeland. Their sun turned into a supernova and now every form of life inthat quadrant disappeared. It was a planet like many others but their onlysalvation.

A slight melancholy invaded the airbecause nobody was pleased to leave their home but there was no other solutionfor them, no solution other than death and extinction.

The crew of the Enterprise helped thesurvivors move on to a new planet, but everyone left their hearts there,nothing would have been the same but life went on and nature had no favouritismbecause nature was ruthless and capricious and nobody was excluded from itsgame of life.

It was raining, it rained for days andthis had brought everyone’s morale low. The planet they had lost was full oflife, sunny and lush while this new one did not even have a quarter of itsbeauty. This weather represented their souls because it was raining in theirheart as well but it was another kind of rain, an invisible and painful rain,wet with sorrow and solitude.  

“This rain describes perfectly thestate of mind of these poor people. Even heaven is crying with them, for them.These raindrops are their tears and those grey clouds are the shadows in theirhearts. ” your poetic spirit spoke and you were unable to shut it up, thissituation made you very sensitive. You usually were not so pessimistic and youdid not like to be but you were able to understand their feelings of sadnessand so you just expressed your thoughts, too emotional for having a sense.

The person next to you did not think thesame because they were illogical thoughts and not even objective. They were theresult of an unacceptable emotional state and a Vulcan could not tolerate it,in fact, your interlocutor was Spock and so maybe you were having the wrongconversation with the wrong person but you still desired to expose your thoughtno matter how illogical or emotional it could be.

He did not even understand how weathercould be a cause of sadness since it was only weather. He knew that humanbeings used to be influenced by external factors and you, in particular, gotinfluenced more than others. Everything was able to excite, surprise or enchantyou as the sadness of others could threw you down. For the Vulcan man, such behaviourwas unacceptable but he could not compare himself to others, he did not definehimself as a human even if his blood was mixed so he did not judge your naturebut he analysed, observed and studied everything that caught his attention.

You could find feelings in everything, evenin the most stupid things, you were a very sensitive and thoughtful person, somehow,Spock found it fascinating. He wondered how anything could create an emotionalreaction in you. Maybe you were just too sentimental and he was too rationalbut it did not stop him of analysing your statement and Spock still found theconversations he had with you stimulating. Sometimes, human emotions wereinteresting to observe, maybe not to feel but studying them was different.

“I think they have to get used totheir new planet, their reaction is understandable because they have lost theirhome but I do not think that weather is a relevant motivation of their mindstate. This area is very wet and this is the rainy season, so I may assume thatyours is a simple and congenial metaphor to describe their homesick feelingsbut I do not think that a poem could give them a practical help to overcome thesituation they are experiencing.” Spock said in his usual neutral tone of voice,his was not a criticism towards you but an observation, and maybe you shouldhave stopped taking everything he said personally. This was another humanbehaviour the Vulcan still found hard to comprehend.

For Spock, every human being was like abook to read, to discover and even if he did not understand or share theiremotions or lifestyles, it did not mean that he could not be fascinated bytheir lunatic nature. Humans were lunatic, their minds changed more rapidlythan the weather and he observed how your expression altered after his comment.Your face became serious, distant and you wandered in thoughts that he couldnot read but only suppose. Maybe he disappointed you, it was not the answer youwanted to hear from him but you should have expected it and you could not besurprised.

Your attempt to create a romanticatmosphere has been in vain or maybe you just wanted to get closer to hissentimental side, you still thought there must be a side of him that was notcontaminated with logic but you failed again and did not find it. Truth had tobe told, you loved Spock a lot but he did not love you back, he was so gentle notto even delude you, he never gave you illusions because illusions wereirrational and untrue but his honesty was cruel somehow but also very charmingand lovable.

You smiled softly, nodding and then youfound your lost confident and positivity despite the rain and his coldness.

“It’s human nature to look forthe emotional side of things, I can’t help it. I simply understand theirfeelings and I’m sorry for them who had to give up their homeland. That’s oneof my biggest flaws, unfortunately, this sentimental and dramatic side of mine.”You said with an ironic smile on your face because it was still your nature andnobody could change it.

Then you observed the vast dark greysky, the falling rain, you were repaired under a terrace but you would like torun, to jump and play in the rain and forget about this world for a moment, forgetthe fact that this man would never understand or feel the way you felt. Forgetabout everything and just become one with the falling rain. Until your infantilethought was interrupted by his calm and peaceful voice.

“I did not say it was a flaw, it isin your nature and I guess, ironically, it is logical for a human behaving soemotional.” Spock said and you found his words so amusing and it was the firsttime you heard him so ironical. Maybe you were wrong and you had some chance tofind his sentimental side, it was hidden but it existed somewhere, it might be smallbut you were determinate enough to discover it.

“Yes, Mr. Spock, it’s like asking to a birdnot to fly or to a fish not to swim, maybe you should let you go a little more.Maybe I was wrong and these are not tears, this sky is not really sad.” You saidand before he could ask for a further explication, you spoke again, “When I wasa kid, I loved playing with the rain, I always jumped on the puddles and my motheralways scolded me because I ruined my clothes every time. Seeing these circumstancesand weather I’d like to do it again.” You confessed with enthusiasm while you rememberedthose beautiful and carefree days when life was easy and playful.

“Do not take it personally but yourchange in mood is surprising, then I do think that a positive, relaxed and optimist facesuits better on you than a negative, sad and pessimist expression.” Spocksaid and he surprised you even this time. His was a compliment and he preferredseeing you lively and happy than sad and melancholic as the new inhabitants ofthis planet. Maybe it was his personal way to let him go a little more.

“Yes, sometimes being irrational and dosomething stupid are the best things people can do to forget or just feel better.”You explained touching with your hands the rain and feel it warm, wet and softon your skin.

“Do you want to play in the rain? I donot think it is a good idea, you may catch a cold but I suppose, a logical argumentationwill not stop you so it is better if I stay here in case you truly needassistance if you feel sick.” He declared and you would assume that he justwanted to look after you, maybe he did really care but he was unable to confessit.

You liked everything of him, the way heunderstood you even when your sentences made no sense. The fact that he treasuredyour company even when you were too emotional or irrational to have around andyou often said illogical things but he could not change the nature of thingsand maybe the illogical side of you was the one he appreciated the most.

#ask #anonymous #star trek #star trek TOS #star trek tos imagines #star trek tos headcanons #star trek tos scenarios #star trek tos x reader #star trek imagine #star trek scenarios #star trek headcanon #spock #mister spock #star trek the original series spock #star trek spock #mr. spock #spock x reader #star trek fanfiction #star trek drabble #tos spock

[verrottweil]

as snow to fire

intro to this wip multi-chap thing i’m writing. this piece in particular is gen.

inspired by and dedicated to the amazing artworks here. please check them out, you won’t regret it!

can also be read here

main characters: spearman & goblin slayer

.

They made it back to the Guild just in time. The storm's finally caught up; the rain rattles against the building, and the wind is a madman's howl through the streets. It's hard to tell whether it'll be over in a few minutes or will last the whole damn night. Spearman wipes the sweat and grime off his face with the back of his hand, wincing when he catches the gash on his cheek.The blue-dyed leather of his glove comes back blood-stained. Shit. Must've peeled the scab off. Witch tuts disapprovingly and rummages around in her pouch, then hands him a perfumed handkerchief. Her lips curl into a lazy smile. Indulgent.

During the trek back to town Spearman daydreamed about how he’d report back to Guild Girl and how cool he’d look, now he has to stand there at the counter with a hankie pressed to his cheek. Unless...

Turning to his companion with puppy dog eyes, Spearman wheedles, “You have one spell left. Can't you work some magic on me, for a job well done?”

Witch raises a brow and while pretending to mull over his request, she daintily crosses one leg over the other. The candlelight flickers over her features, her generous cleavage. With a tilt of the head, she regards him and answers unhurriedly, “If I were to. You would lose your mark of heroism. No?”

Catching Guild Girl shuffle through a stack of papers from his peripheral, Spearman deflates a little. Witch rolls her eyes and lights her pipe. Maybe Guild Girl would fuss over him for a change? He pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek, pressing his palm harder to the cut. She always bends over backwards for Goblin Slayer when he gets back from a quest. Resentment rears its ugly head at the thought. Spearman doesn't have the energy to pretend he never noticed how badly she crushes on Goblin Slayer. The fight with those bandits took a lot more than he anticipated.

It would be nice to have Guild Girl smile at him like she means it though.

The massive wooden door opens with a shuddery creak. Spearman groans when he sees Goblin Slayer in the open doorway-- after five years, he recognizes the silhouette of that dirt cheap helmet immediately. A spray of rain gets blown into the hall. Goblin Slayer and his party file inside, striking a more pitiful sight than usual, soaked to the bone and stupid tired from their adventure. Speak of the devil. They shuffle over to the front desk, their shadows crooked on the floorboards.

With a huff, Spearman watches how Guild Girl perks up considerably. “I don't get it,” he whines, clenching his hands into fists. “What's so special about him?”

It was strictly rhetorical. So he certainly didn't expect his companion to reply: “You could try to find out… maybe? He is perhaps more, than he seems. At first glance.” When she notices she has his attention, Witch takes a puff of her pipe-- thin wisps of faint purple smoke float to the ceiling. She adds coyly, “Now is a good time, as any. Don't you agree?”

“Wanna bet there are just more goblins at second glance?” Spearman mutters derisively, shifting his weapon from shoulder. No response. He glances at the front desk.

Still, there's gotta be something worthwhile about the guy.

Guild Girl's dropped everything now Goblin Slayer's in front of her. Her hands are flat on the countertop as she listens captively to Goblin Slayer's report, no doubt standing on the tips of her toes to catch every word. Humming to himself, Spearman concedes Witch has a point. After all, for the entirety of Spearman's adventuring career Goblin Slayer has been this 'goblin-obsessed weirdo’ on the backdrop, and he never really bothered to get to know him better. Witch tips her head back and regards him with narrowed eyes. A long shadow falls over the slope of her throat.

Handing the bloodied handkerchief back, Spearman makes a face and says aloud, “Okay, okay, I guess you're right... Hey, you up for a drink?”

The corners of Witch's mouth curl into a smile. She rises languidly from her seat, with the grace of a cat stretching under the midday sun. Together they head over to the front desk. Goblin Slayer's party doesn't require much convincing; the prospect of drink, food and the tavern’s grand fireplace easily tides them over. Only Goblin Slayer himself remains hesitant. Spearman figures the guy had probably planned to get back to that farm right away.

“Gah you can't be serious, Orcbolg!” High Elf Archer exclaims loudly, hands on her hips and eyebrows furrowed.

Before she can berate him in earnest, Dwarf Shaman pitches in, “Come now, Beard-cutter. You've walked through the same storm as us. It's better to sit this one out. And you might as well fill your stomach while you're at it.”

Even Guild Girl nods in agreement at the dwarf's words. Cornered, Goblin Slayer tenses up, making this soft, confused sound that Spearman would've never heard if he hadn't been standing so close to him. The heavy rainfall drowns out most noise.

“I see,” Goblin Slayer murmurs. Water drips down the expanse of his chest piece, and the fur of his collar's wet, weighed down. Dried blood on the buckler around his arm. His leather boots caked with mud. Other adventurers always turn up their nose when they see him in his gear, but he's downright sorry-looking now.

Spearman snaps his gaze back to the visor of that cheap helmet when Goblin Slayer slowly says, “Alright.”

.

The tavern's awash with warmth. The padfoot waitress flits between tables on nimble feet, the skirt of her uniform bellowing around her legs. Rookie and veteran adventurers are clustered in groups of four or five. Chattering excitedly or raising their tankards in a festive toast. Spearman greets those he knows and leads the exhausted party to the table closest by the hearth. The firewood crackles pleasantly. Soot papering the stone foundation. Lizard Priest takes the head of the table. His hulking form cuts an impressive figure; the priestly garments he wears are wet-stuck to his scales, like a second skin. Dwarf Shaman and High Elf Archer settle down on each side.

“--And I'm telling you that it doesn't count, you stubborn dwarf!” She shrieks, shrill, while the dwarf bursts out laughing. Spearman wasn't really following their argument, about the merits of dwarven crossbows or something; most of his attention had been focused on Goblin Slayer and Priestess. It's oddly endearing, watching this girl hover around the guy like a tiny mother hen.

Her sounding staff gleams with raindrops, firelit. She holds onto it tightly when she chastises him. “You shouldn't have flooded the outpost.”

“The river was close by,” Goblin Slayer replies, carefully unbuckling the worn leather clasp of his shield.

Priestess puffs out her cheeks. Some strands of honey blond hair are plastered to her face. “Can't you be a bit more considerate? You know she doesn't like it when you use fire, water or poison in fights… What if-- what if you altered the river's course?”

“Not by much,” he murmurs in response, placing the scabbard of his sword down in front of the fireplace. The glow of the flames washes over his back like an orange wave. “Give me your cloak,” he then says, holding out his hand.

“Ah, right!” Priestess exclaims, quickly shrugging off the oversized, coarse cloak. Goblin Slayer spreads it out to dry on the floorboards.

Spearman watches the exchange with a smile. He places his spear against the wall and turns to the table, intending to take the seat next to Witch. Their eyes meet, and she smirks, her eyes half-hooded. The tip of her pointy hat droops sideways when she props her elbow on the tabletop and rests her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze falls on Priestess, who blushes under its intensity. Huh, cute.

Witch addresses her directly. “Won't you come sit.” Here she pats the spot next to her. “I would like to hear. About your adventure. Would that be… alright? I am sure, you must have much to tell.” She remarks gently, her voice lilting like a lullaby.

“Yes!” Priestess stutters around the y, grabbing the skirts of her robes with two fistfuls. “I mean of course, that wouldn't be a problem at all.” The skin peeking above her thigh highs a bright red from the cold.

With a sigh, Spearman settles down onto the bench, leaving space for Goblin Slayer. The wood groans under his added weight.

They order soup with full wheat bread on the side, roast for supper with pears and wild cranberries, a platter of grilled winter vegetables for High Elf Archer, and an assortment of cheese for Lizard Priest. The padfoot waitress serves them tankards of rich grape wine. Spearman listens attentively to Dwarf Shaman’s and Priestess’ retelling of their adventure, interspersed by High Elf Archer’s indignant squawks whenever the dwarf makes a joke at her expense and by Goblin Slayer’s remarks. He hasn’t bothered removing his helmet. The torn red ribbon sticks flatly to the metal.

“So what did you guys do?!” High Elf Archer asks, pounding her tankard onto the tabletop -- Lizard Priest gingerly picks up his plate and shoots her a look. Always excited to hear about “real” adventures that one. Her cheeks flushed already.

Spearman takes a big gulp from his drink, wipes his chin and answers, “Cleared a bandit camp. On the mountain pass way up north.”

From the corner of his eye he gauges Goblin Slayer for a reaction. The guy remains impassive, giving no indication he’s heard him speak up in the first place, spooning mouthfuls of food through the slits of his faceguard.

Turning back to High Elf Archer, Spearman continues, “There must’ve been a dozen of ‘em, right. Burly. Tough. Armed to the teeth.”

“Tell us what happened!” She eggs him on loudly, grinning wide. Her companions nod in agreement; all eyes suddenly trained on him.

Basking in the attention, Spearman recounts the events of the day. How they trekked through the tall grass, the frozen ground like rock under their heels, and cautiously made their way to the encampment on the bluff overlooking the mountain pass. They smoked out the bandits. Set the wooden fortification ablaze with a simple fire spell. When he gets to the fight, Spearman becomes animated, gesturing wildly to emphasize certain parts, sometimes bumping into Goblin Slayer next to him. He took on ten bandits at the same time. Only one got to him, socked him in the face with a gauntleted fist.

Lizard Priest folds his paws together, eyes squinted half-shut, and offers, “I could heal that cut for you if you so pleased, milord Spearman.”

Spearman’s caught of guard for a moment. Witch flashes him a knowing look, and he declines casually, “Nah… Wouldn’t want to lose my battlescar.” He turns to Goblin Slayer and asks with a wink, “How else would people know I’m an adventurer, right?”

“You look like one,” Goblin Slayer deadpans in response. To Spearman’s surprise, the other members of the party start laughing, as if the guy just cracked a joke.

Unsure of how to react, Spearman tips back the rest of his wine. A bit too fast, because it clogs at the well of his throat, the taste sticking to his palate like honey. He swallows, curt. Tries not to acknowledge that Goblin Slayer is still watching him. His head angled to the side, the fire’s glow lining the back of his helmet with a streak of gold. Did he offend him or something? The tavern turns rowdy when two adventurers start an armwrestling competition at the bar. Spearman peers at the gathering crowd past Goblin Slayer.

High Elf Archer slams her tankard down on the table in cheer and hops off the bench. “Let's go watch!” She commands, half-drunk. Dwarf Shaman strokes his beard and slips out of his seat as well, keeping his cup of fire-wine in hand. Satisfied, the elf turns to Goblin Slayer and says, “Orcbolg, you too!”

“It stopped raining,” he says matter-of-fact.

Lizard Priest casts a glance over his shoulder, at the lead-stained window behind him and hums in acknowledgement. “Indeed it has, milord Goblin Slayer.” His paws are pressed together again, eyes scrunched shut, like a cat's when petted. “I believe you would prefer to take your leave then?”

It dawns on Spearman that Goblin Slayer had been looking past him, not at him. His lips press into a thin line.

“Oh,” Priestess exhales, almost inaudible over the pleasant crackling of the firewood and the shouting match near the counter. Her hair's dried, frazzled around the cheeks. In need of a good brush. She regards him intently when saying, “Please be careful on your way home.”

“I will,” Goblin Slayer promises, getting up from the bench under a barrage of complaints from High Elf Archer. Her voice crowding out the drunken struggle at the bar.

He drops a leather bag of coin onto the table and fetches his weapons.

Spearman crosses his arms in front of his chest, bouncing his leg impatiently. His expression pinches up when Witch bumps her foot against his ankle and levels him a look. Her eyes gleam under the brim of her hat, the smile on her face duplicitous. After years of fighting back to back, they learned to communicate by body language alone. With a tilt of the head Witch nudges him onwards. He heaves a sigh, surrenders. And then slams his fist onto the table, getting up.

High Elf Archer startles at the unexpected sound. Her lecture brought to an abrupt ending. Dwarf Shaman takes a gulp of fire-wine, peering up at him from underneath thick bristly eyebrows when he stands at full height.

Spearman sheepishly scratches his nose and announces, “I figured I'd come with... All this wine is getting to my head y'know, and I need some fresh air.” He jerks his head in Goblin Slayer's direction and asks, “You don't mind, do ya?”

Goblin Slayer bows his head, caught in the firelight, and mutters, “Do as you wish.”

The hollowed-out sound of his voice would scotch any attempt at accompanying him, but Spearman just grins. He then looks over at Witch and catches Priestess shaking her head helplessly next to her. When she notices him staring, she gives him a self-effacing smile, as if to say you get used to it. It serves to boost his confidence even further.

Taking his spear in hand, Spearman says brightly, “Right! Lead on, then.”

.

Thawed-out and wet, the muddy underground sucks at their boots; the wind whips mercilessly against his bare cheeks. The cut on his cheek throbs from the cold. Spearman wipes at his watery eyes and follows Goblin Slayer's shadowy form down the dirt road, both moons looming behind a slumber of clouds. In the first month of the new year, the weather always fluctuates between bitter frost, and cool and rainy. The candlelight from the lanterns around their hips sloshes unsteadily with every step. It spills over the mud like oil.

Spearman licks his dry-cracked lips. They haven't exchanged a single word since leaving the tavern, and the silence rings between his ears heavier than the wind around them. He'd wanted to breach the subject conversationally. Why goblins? Don't you care about anything else?

But the cold leaves him wrung-out, with the sound of his voice dying stillborn past his teeth.

After another few minutes of walking, Spearman wagers a gamble. He's the frontier's strongest, gods be damned, and he's faced worse than a talk with a fellow adventurer. Balling his hands into fists -- closed tighter than a padlock, he strides up to Goblin Slayer. His squelching footsteps echoing bravely in the dark.

“So,” Spearman begins, his breath a wet fog. “What's your deal, anyway? With goblins, I mean. You never wanna move on to bigger game?”

Goblin Slayer looks at him from over his shoulder, a courtesy for him, and replies curtly, “No.”

“Well why not?” Spearman presses on, courageous. “You could if you wanted to, y'know. Remember when we handled that sorcerer in his big white tower? Lil’ bit more practice and you'd be a great scout.”

“Not interested,” Goblin Slayer answers, pulling the threadbare cloak up to his chin, drawn tight over the span of his back.

The few trees near the road rustle their branches -- aspen, birches, a dried-out oak. A harrowing sound.

Spearman combs a gloved hand through his hair, exhales through his nose, loud like a bull. He makes another ditch effort. “You've got two cute girls in your party. Aren't you even a little bit interested in one of them? And with Guild Girl smiling at you like…” He trails off, swallows. Sounding too sour for his own ears. “And what about that farm girl? You went out on a limb for her farm, and okay, there were goblins too, but don't try and--”

“Not every farm gets saved.”

He snaps his head up, gives Goblin Slayer a surprised stare. The wind like a whiplash against his skin. Goblin Slayer's lantern lights up his belly, his chest, but leaves his helmet to the dark. Just a glint of metal.

This guy, Spearman thinks, why would he say something like that all of a sudden. Inarticulate, he manages, “What?”

“Not every farm, not every village gets saved,” Goblin Slayer says slowly. “Mine didn't.”

They stop walking. The hemline of that threadbare cloak bellows in the wind; Spearman can hardly differentiate the outline against the dark. He shifts his spear from shoulder. The weight of his weapon a comfort. He tries to peer between the grates of Goblin Slayer's visor, trying to glimpse his eyes. They were reddish, weren't they?--he remembers from that celebration at the Guild, when he took his helmet off and…

“We’re already far from town,” Goblin Slayer turns towards the frontier town, towards the lights in the distance. You should head back remains unsaid.

The dismissal stings, worse than his cheek does, but his curiosity grows voracious, threatening to pull the tell me out into the open. Spearman falters. Wants to do something outrageous like reach out to him, grab him by the shoulders and rattle him a little, shake the whole confession out of him. He blinks, owlish.

“Right,” he mutters lamely, forcing a grin. “Guess I should get going then… See ya!”

Goblin Slayer remains unmoved, holding onto the rusted handle of the lantern tied around his waist. The candle wobbles on its iron perch. “Yes,” Goblin Slayer says then, simply assessing him. "I will probably see you at the Guild."

Spearman rubs the back of his neck, takes a step backwards. Another one. His foot sinking into the mud. He awkwardly balances his spear against his shoulder, not wanting to dirty the weapon, and turns to the opposite direction. The red moon peeks through wisps of clouds overhead. He takes a steadying breath and treks homewards, feeling the wind beat against his back like children's fists. His stomach in knots.

For the first time, he's looking forward to seeing Goblin Slayer again.

#spearman #goblin slayer #my writing #fanfic #goblin slayer fanfic #priestess #high elf archer #dwarf shaman #witch #lizard priest #guild girl

[marvel-lously]

The Dark Secrets I Know (pt.3)

Words: 1700

Content: angst

Warnings: language, description of wounds 

A/N: Hello you guys, after quite a long hiatus I am finally back. Sorry ‘cause it took me so long to write the third part, but I just didn’t feel like anybody is interested in my writing anymore. Anyways here it is, I hope you enjoy :)

Tags: @supersoldierfreak @supersoldierslover @dearcindymoon @parkeret @paramedicpanther @fwmholland @one-big-dreamer @niallandsebastianaremylife @sprinkleofpoop @mah1c @myersge @slut-for-fandoms @princessunicorn13 @clique-chick @multi-fan @mycollectionofthedead @no-aaaahhhh @spokenforunicornism @mad-girl--with-a-box @buffy-morgendorffer-01 @zophora @the-crime-fighting-spider @falseosterhollandfantasies @beautifullydisconnected @spidergirlwanab @supertrxsh @winterbuttmunch @deatheater61103 @hymnofthevalkyrie @loverboy-holland @shitty-imagines-95 @lcgphotohraphy @lilyholland 

(I took the liberty of tagging some of my mutuals as well, I hope none of you minds. If I forgot to tag anyone or if you’d like to be untagged just let me know)

Previous parts: pt.1, pt.2 

Next part: pt.4

You could feel the silent drops of rain, streaming down your face, small droplets already caught in your eyelashes. You were yet unable to recognize the setting. You started walking, not really knowing where you're headed. You started looking around, there was nothing but turf around you, for miles and miles, the greenery seemed to be the only thing man could see. You felt your heartbeat fasten and a lump forming in your throat. What is this place? How do you get out of there?

You started running. You ran and ran and ran and it wasn't helping you one bit. You were out of breath and tears were now mixing with raindrops on your cheeks, making your hair stick unpleasantly to your face.

You sat down, desperate, hopeless and defeated. You cried for what seemed to be hours now. Then you heard singing, it was muffled by the now rapidly falling rain, but it was a sound of singing nonetheless. You stood up weakly, not entirely trusting your senses anymore, but the more you walked, the louder the music got.

You stopped suddenly. You came in sight of what seemed to be a funeral, but something was off. The music you heard wasn't funeral music, it was worse it was so much worse. There was a little girl standing on the very grave itself and she was the only one singing, everybody else was just emptily staring to the ground.

»Tili Tili bom, ty slyishish, kto-to ryadom? Pritailsya za uglom I pronzaet vzglyadom.« (Tili tili bom, can you hear him closing in? Lurking around the corner, staring right at you.) The girl sang.

You just stared at her. Her appearance was mutilated. Half of her face was bruised, her lower lip brutally cut in half, scarlet blood staining her teeth, her once glowing, dark skin was now the colour of the ashes and her plaits, half undone, were slightly covering her eyes.

Then all of the sudden, she looked straight into your eyes.

You had never felt such panic and fear washing through your body, shaking the very core of your spine. You started trembling, not from the cold, but from how scared you felt under her gaze. You didn't understand why were you so scared, this girl did nothing but look at you and sang, yet the way she looked and the way she stood on the grave, unmoving, like a porcelain doll on the bookshelf, was so unnerving to you.

»Tili Tili bom, vse skroet noch nemaya, za toboy kradetsya on I vot-vot poymaet.« (Tili tili bom, the silent night hides everything, he sneaks up behind you and he is going to get you.) Her high pitched voice cut through your ears once again, her eyes not once leaving yours.

»On idet. On uzhe. Blisko.« (He walks. He is coming. Closer.)

At the last word, you felt a hand grab your shoulder. You screamed in fear. When you saw who was behind you, you nearly fainted. It was him.

»Like the scenery?« he asked, his voice laced with poison.

He bowed his head to your ear. »You should, it's your funeral.«

The girl screeched. That was the last thing you heard, then you woke up.

  AVENGERS' CONFERENCE ROOM

»No, Tony, no. I don't want to see her anywhere near me, that girl is mental.« Clint yelled.

»Wow, wow, wow, let's all just calm down.« Sam tried to reassuringly squeeze Clint's arm.

»Calm down? Calm down?!! Don't tell me to calm down, while Ton brings a fucking terrorist to our tower.« Clint's face was getting more red by the second.

»She. Is. Not. A terrorist!« Tony yelled back.

»Oh please Tony! I thought you were smarter than this. Just because she says she isn't one doesn't mean that's the truth. What, I mean are you going to believe her word over the council's?« Clint continued to argue.

»Goddamn it Clint! Yes, yes I will! And do you know why I will?« Tony was clearly frustrated with Clint.

»Oh, do enlighten me, please!«

»Because she tried to warn them Clint, she tried to warn the government and they didn't listen! And they never do! And of all people our team should be the one to know this best. They never listen, convinced that they hold all the strings in their hands and when somebody says otherwise, they shut them down. However when something bad does happen, they don't take the blame. They find an innocent man and put the blame on that man, meanwhile continuing to blind themselves from what is really happening around the world and to overhear every single warning. That's why I believe her Clint and you should know better. WE should know better.« Tony took a long sip from his glass of bourbon.

Silence overtook the room and nobody dared to break it.

»Well I believe her too! I mean damn it Clint, you should see it man, this girl is... something else, this girl is brilliant. She's able to tell your entire life story from having one look at you. I witnessed her do it and even though I was sceptical at first Tony ran a search on the guy she analyzed and guess what, she was right. She took one look at that man and was able to read him like a book, not missing one detail about him. I'm telling you Clint, if someone can help us, than this is her.« Sam was the one to break the silence after a while.

»Okay! Fine! She stays, but I am telling you, one incident and I will personally escort her back to the hellhole she crawled out of.« Clint said, then walked out of the room.

»By the way, has anyone seen our girl today?« Nat asked.

All she got was some shrugs and no's.

»FRIDAY where's Y/N?« she asked the AI.

»Miss Y/L appears to be in the kitchen Miss Romanoff.« the AI answered.

  »Is everything alright?« Nat's worried voice startled you.

»I am well, thank you for asking.« you said, shifting uncomfortably in your seat by the kitchen counter.

»Are you sure? You look a little worn out.« she probed.

»I just had some troubles sleeping last night, nothing more. No need for you to worry.« you answered quickly.

»Well good then, 'cause we need you in a conference room once you're finished with your meal.«

You gave her a curt nod and she left the room.

  Once you came to the conference room, everybody was already seated, the only space left was between Clint and Steve. You sighed inwardly, but sat down, smiling nonetheless. Clint murmured something incoherently, while Steve gave you a kind greeting.

»So what's the agenda today?« you asked timidly.

»Well, we wanted to go on through the list of some possible Hydra members and we thought you could tell us whether you think they are real members or Hydra just planted them as a false bait to distract us.« Tony said, with a somewhat stern voice.

»Yes of course, I can do that.« you were quick to respond.

Tony projected some photos and videos of the men. For some you could quickly tell they were part of Hydra, by the way they walked, held themselves, how they interacted with people on those videos... for some, you needed more time and more information to put them on the list.

Then at the last picture you felt you entire body tense and you could feel the muscles in your stomach twist and clench. You were sick. It was a picture of him. It was as if you were dreaming again, as if he was standing right next to you in this room. You forgot how to talk, you forgot how to breathe.

An arm tried to shake you out of your trance. It was Steve, his lips were moving. He was saying something to you, but you were unable to hear his words. No, all you could hear was the ringing in your head.

»Y/N! Y/N! For god's sake Y/N!!« Steve's voice finally made it through the fog in your head. you tried to focus on him, but it was hard. It was so hard.

»Breathe! Y/N breathe!« he was saying repeatedly.

You took a deep, painful breath in.

»And out! Don't forget to breathe out!«

You exhaled shakily.

»There you go. Just breathe. Take your time.« Steve was rubbing circles on your back reassuringly.

»Y/N? Who is that? The man on the picture?« Tony asked, carefully.

»That«, you said with trembling voice »is the man you don't ever wish to meat. 'Cause the moment you meet him, is the moment you shook hands with death himself.« You stood up and sped out of the room.

                                                                                                                                                                                                        You were at the gym, throwing some hard punches at the heavy bag.

You heard someone cough behind you. It was Bucky.

»Give me one more minute, then I'll be out of your way.« you said, visibly out of breath.

»Well I actually came, because I wanted to talk to you, but it's okay if you don't want to« he replied.

»What did you want to talk about?« you asked, while stripping yourself of the hand bandages.

»I just wanted you to know that we got your back. You don't need to be afraid of this guy, whoever the hell he is, because we got your back. You're part of the team now, which means we will protect you and it also means no one will hurt you as long as we are around.« he tried so hard to reassure you.

You just looked at him incredulously.

»Why thank you for trying to reassure me, but you have absolutely no idea, who it is that you are dealing with. It doesn't matter how many people are trying to protect me, as soon as he finds out where I am, you can write me off as deceased. Bucky! I am scared as hell, of this guy. And if you're smart... you should be scared of him too!«

#avengers x reader #marvel imagines #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #Clint barton #sam willson #the dark secrets I know #reblog

[ellrys]

Between Two Hands - A Short Story

We are here to leave...   My mind was blank. My ears were fixated in the sound of raindrops hitting on the window of the room as well as the distant yet clear sound of the wind beating on the old willows in the backyard. It was a rough storm. Rain was a common routine yet; the lightning crackling through the midnight dark was a rarity of sight as well as the following thunder roars. The shelter corridors were filled with the silent echoes of the whimpers of the dogs that had a sharp increase in volume every time the thunder reached their ears.

She sighed, sitting in the corner of the office in the ground near window side, with Omi lying on her left thigh, a mix breed which was surely a half a springer spaniel but yet other half was only about our speculations. A beautiful soul yet not so much in appearance to be adopted… She was one of the oldest we had here in the shelter and although she always says she loved them equally, it was obvious Omi had been her favourite for a while, right along with Munno, the little old Basset who was also leaning against her leg at the same moment.

She had laid a blanket underneath them and one more on her  own shoulders as she leaned towards the cold wall . Never would strike you as a manager. Neither could say she looked her age. She had a small build, small and fragile. Came back from the capital as a top graduate from our best University. Yet instead of pride, she always had this sense of disappointment in her eyes. She had a shelf of research materials and papers she never ended up finishing. I always wondered why she end up giving up the life in the big city and opening this place that she called the “Carehouse.”; A shelter and a veterinary service for the abandoned and lost animals. It was a shelter of lost and forgotten, even by the residents of the town. When a lost animal was found by a random passer, when a parrot escape from the crack of an open window, when the litter of kittens wandered away from where their mother had hid them, or when they were taken away from their abusive and addict owners by the local police, they would end up here. Whoever found them, would throw them in our arms, so their conscious would be clean when they forget about ever encountering them as it was no longer their problem.

I made my way toward the cage at the corner of the office, with the green wing macaw we have received a few months back. The police found him in a shady house with two drug addicts and an ex-convict. He was most likely stolen from someone in the neighbouring town in order to sell it under the counter as he had no health card or any documents of ownership. The parrot clearly had been under stress cause of the new environment and absence of bonded owner as the parrots usually show extreme behaviour as plucking their own feathers and even los off appetite.  He was almost featherless with occasional blood marks on his skin along with obvious signs of malnutrition. The police told they would look into it but she already knew not to hope anything by the moment the officer diverted his eyes making that half-assed promise. That was a few weeks back.

“Do you believe in god?” she asked suddenly, while softly caressing Omi’s ear and gazing out of the window.

I took the macaw out of his cage. He was shivering due to lack of feathers and the blanket around the cage was not helping. He gladly accepted the offer of my warm arm and climbed on to my jumper without question. As I covered him with a small warm towel I found on the heater nearby, I saw down nearby, facing her.

“Yes.” I had grown up in a religious environment. Taught prayers by the time I could read and write, and read the book a few times along with the others. My mother was a pious one, I often grew up listening the stories and tales out of the book and talking about the god and its means.

She looked down to the face of the dog, shivering in her arms, not by cold but by fear, each time the lighting strikes. “Would you be bothered, if he did not exist?”

“He does exist.” I said without hesitation.

“I do not say he doesn’t nor that he does., but about what your reaction would be, if you found out that he did not. What would you feel?”

I diverted my eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I never questioned his existence. Nor do I want to.”

“Precisely.” She said, in a subtle tone. I could hear her hand rubbing the ears of the spaniel. I waited an explanation. Nothing.

“And you?” I asked, giving up on waiting for a reply. "Do you believe?"

“No.”

“Why?”

She was scratching under Omi’s ear now, as the old dog was slowly closing her eyes. She was old. And I did not expect her to live long after the lump we have found in her lungs. She was too old to be operated. We could not take the risk. It was a matter of time. It’s sometimes hard to know whether a dog was suffering or not, as they not always show their weaknesses. She looked tired but unable to sleep due to the storm but we both knew, she also had lost appetite past day and barely have moved out of her place in the past week.

“Give me a proper answer first” She said. “Imagine if he did not exist today, what would you feel. If you do, I’ll tell you why.”

I shrugged. I gazed upon the silent macaw in my lap, snuggling in the centre of my oversized jumper and the small towel. I haven’t noticed but I was softly scratching his bald head all this time. His feathers started to regrow and he partially had feathers in his chest. He looked at peace, his eyes were softly blinking in parallel to my fingers movements as he was softly shifting to sleep. “I would probably be lost.” I said hesitantly. “I spent a life believing him, his justice, his kindness, and his love.” I gazed upon the open door of the shelter. Most of the dogs we had were in a single large compartment. She did not like the idea of caging them so she made a playroom for them to spend the night. It really resembled of a common living room, so they somewhat cosy and at home. The most of the dogs, especially the youngest ones were curled up in a corner together, scared from the thunder obviously.

“I would probably be like an abandoned dog. You know, wait entire life believing someone out there exist that will one day pick you up and take care of you. You believe he will come and pick you up one day. And yet that day never comes. Something like that feeling I guess.”

She softly nodded. “It’s exactly what it is.” She said confirming. Her hazel eyes were foggy and distant. As if she was talking to me from a different time and space. “This is the reason I don’t believe.”

“That didn’t make sense.”

She looked at me, and then showed the dog lying underneath he hands. “That depends on what you define a god.”

I lift an eyebrow. She turned against me with a bitter smile on her face. “What you call god, if it’s a creator yes, I think that exist and but that does not require to be all knowing and all powerful. It can be anything. Humans created a lot of dog breeds that did not exist before by playing with genetics. We created artificial intelligence and we even created different lifeforms from a single cell just by the use of our also self-created tools. We are clearly not gods, yet for some of the creations, we are. Doesn’t mean we are all knowing and all potent. We just create. Yes, I believe someone or something did create us. But that’s not what we seek, we do not seek the god that created us. We seek a being that is all knowing, wise, powerful and just. “

“It isn’t the same thing.” I argued. “God itself created all from nothing. We just reshape and modify his creations to make something new. It’s not the same thing.”

“That part doesn’t matter.”  She interrupted. “Again, I don’t question what he is, I am questioning what we seek in him. We do not seek a creator god in our religion, we seek a divine being.” She gave a pause to think over her words, possibly looking for a different way to put them. Her eyes slide down to the old Spaniel in her lap. “For her, we are gods.” She said softly. “And she doesn’t care if we are creators or not. That’s not why we are gods for her.”

I examined the both dogs. Both of them were hunter breeds, Gun dogs. Considered to be brave and sharp, yet they both looked scared, seeking shelter in her side, from the thunders echoing in the sky. “They find safety in my presence, as they believe I can protect them from the thunders and lightnings, the means they have no power against by themselves. For them, we are the all-powerful beings as we can change the course of their lives. We can provide protection in the houses we built, the food we produce, the artificially created heating in our spaces. Also, we can punish them for the wrongs they have done. If an unjust deed happen among them, like unequally rationed food, they seek our aid to justify, or if we let the injustice happen, they will accept, believing they had deserved such fate.  They will love us unconditionally, and will be loyal to us eternally, although they know we are imperfect, that we have ill sides within just as we have good. Isn’t that sound familiar?”

I saw her point but I did not want to admit it out loud. 

“We all believed in fate, and that everything happens for a reason, and if bad things happen for us, they happen for a reason that only god knows. We cannot create true justice ourselves as we are corrupted in heart. So, we want to know the evil will be punished, and the good will be rewarded by a divine court with no possible fault. But mostly, we want to know there is a power out there, that will take us under their arms and protect us from all the things left us powerless; time, fear, pain, death... We want to know that there is something out there that is all above the things we fear and the things we cannot control.” Her hand slowly slides to her side, losing the will to continue petting the dog. I could hear the whimpering dogs from the room next door. The cats were all silent, they were all hiding in the safest looking corner they had found.

“We seek the god, not because we believe he is the creator of all, but because we expect him to be all powerful, just and loving. We want to know we will be better in the afterlife, just like as you said.” She faced me again, her smile had disappeared and all that left was the bitterness in her eyes. “Similar to the dogs waiting to be picked up from the shelter by a loving hand.”

My mind went blank again, and my thoughts, slide back to the raindrops in the window, the consistent yet ineffective diving of the droplets to the glass, and slowly sliding downwards in silence, getting lost within the soil. I did not want to think of what she said. I believed he was out there, and that she was wrong. We did not create a concept just to comfort our minds. It was no deception. It just sounded logical considering the miracle of life. I tried to recall what my biology teacher said a while back; that the odds for the forming of life itself was, one in hundred trillion? Or Something, I really don’t remember the number, recalling it had a few zeros and that’s it. Yet it was in a number to be defined impossible. No, the god did exist I had no doubts on it still...Yet she never made a claim against his existence either, but only about his potency.

I understood. She was right, about that we wanted him to be potent. That I hoped for him to be that potent. To think, he exists did not make me budge, as I did not question his existence. I devoured every bit of biology source in our school library only to believe in the existence of the god to make more sense, given the probability of all existence. As a matter of fact, after all I have devoured, the science books were better proofs than the holy ones, on his existence as nothing seemed a mere coincidence to happen. But I never thought on the extent of his potency. We humans, have history full of discoveries by accidents. As she just specified, the dog breeds we have created purely by cross breeding. Or AI that can think without us. The counter argument formed itself immediately. Some of the dog breeds we created were faulted. Dystocia. The disorder or birth, due to the proportion difference of the pelvic canal from the offspring, as some of the small dog and cat breeds formed by the result of humanity, cannot even give natural birth, and without human intervention it can be deadly. I recall her mentioning this to me when I began working near her as a part timer. Yeah, it’s not the same.

“There’s a difference between creationism of god, and ours. We, created faulty beings, the breeds of dogs you mentioned, that cannot give natural birth by Dystocia. The AI we created cannot self-sustain. The constructs of ours, cannot exist without us.”

“And are we?”

I stumbled by her suddenness’ was confused of what she meant. And then it hit me. She was mentioning death.

"We are creations of miracle maybe, but we are not created perfect. From the moment of birth, we are in an endless cycle of decay. The diseases, the malfunction of the body, and the decay of everything of existence. If not just physical, but mental as well, we are broken beings, who damage and disrupt one another, wars, murder, injustice, and cruelty. We justify saying we were meant to be this way. No, there’s a broken rusty gear among our system, that disrupting and corrupting all our existence as well as our environment and the entire world we live in. “she looked again to the old, abandoned dog in her lap, and then to the half-naked and abused macaw on mine.

She was right in her claim. And given my education level and experience of life, I could not go into a sophisticated scientific argument about the consistency of life and structure of parasitic life forms we call diseases as her medical expertise was far beyond a high schooler like me, who simply liked biology classes. It would be tiring and time consuming to go further on factual side of the matter.

“Maybe it is not.” I said softly.

She snorted while still looking out of the window. “It’s, just our minds searching for comfort, to justify our existence and make sure we will be safe and sound and all that hurt us, pained us, troubles us, all that caused us to suffer unjustly, will be magically solved after we die so we can leave the world in peace.”

I gave a pause. It suddenly hit me why she was like this. My eye slides down to the other hand of hers, which has been standing idly all this time behind her leg. I saw that idea flashed in my mind and  that my guess was right, she was holding a syringe. That meant only one thing.

“Is she?”

She nodded silently. Omi, was not going to last the night.

That explained her melancholical aura, as well as the questioning of existence of a creator. She was about to send her oldest companion away, with her own hands, to the creator…no, the caregiver that she was unsure that existed. This was not a matter of belief actually. She opened this care house, the so-called shelter, for the abandoned animals of the town to find a warmth of home. It did not look anything like a usual shelter, but more like a real home, each animal group had their house like rooms, with furniture that we occasionally used, and encouraged the youth to come and spend time in. We even made a small library, in the feline section of the building for kids and youngsters to come read while interacting with them. She did not want to put them on mass cages, and endless corridors of concrete and steel. We adjusted a backyard for them to roam, and each and every one took proper attention and care from us, as well as medical care. She made sure, even if they were never to be adopted, they would live a good life here. It was where she lived, and she was not their owner or manager, or a simple vet, she was their caretaker until their real owner one day appeared in the very door. She was barely funded and holding on the hardest to give them the warmest conditions. But considering the low heat of the room when it is already November, she was struggling to keep it up I knew.

All this effort, to keep them safe and sound, to care for them a life time, and she was about to send the one she started this journey with away. The first comer of her residence, was about to depart, and she was wondering, if at the end of that syringe, whether there was going to be a caregiver or not.

“It doesn’t matter if he exists or not.” I said. I was able to put a soft smile in my face and I hoped it wasn’t as bitter as I thought it would be. “You don’t need to believe in a god, or a caregiver of a divine being for something like this.”

She turned to me with a sceptical face. She had no faith in what I said, I knew it. Its usual I guess, for adults to look with that kind of expression to my age groups, it’s just that I was no ordinary teen.

“There are a million possibilities we can say about after life, or god, or creator or whatever you may call it. And, although I’m a believer, I don’t think main point is to believe in him, it is to understand the life itself.”

She chuckled.

“No, I am serious. The life, perfect or imperfect, incomplete or not doesn’t matter. Life itself isn’t something we own anyway, it’s something we rent. We borrow it for a moment, to experience it for a brief moment, and then we return it back to its place, to leave it for the next one in line. No matter what you can say about religion, god, existence, they will all be hypothesis and assumptions. But what we know, is that the life itself comes from the soil, will eventually return to soil and through the cycle it will be given back to another form to another being.”

“The cycle of life. “She murmured. I don’t know if I sounded like a dreamy boy or a mature adult, but at this point, all I wanted was to continue.

“Nothing exists out of nowhere. The energy you would say, is finite so, if you hold on to it for too long, you are stealing the time from the next creature in line.”

“Sounds like a queue over there.” She said chuckling again. So, did I.

“Yes, actually it is. It’s like a cinema hall. There’s a movie to play, and before it begins you take a seat, you watch the movie and when it’s over you leave so the next ones in line can take your seat. You can’t remain as that would be selfish, and someone out in that queue, would never get to see the movie.”

She finally smiled. Her face was still facing the blank emptiness of the window, but I saw her empty hand move back up again to caress Omi’s ear, and my optimist side wanted to take it as a good sign.

“You really don’t sound like a kid in your age.”  

“And you are hesitating when you know what to do.” I said looking at her other hand. “That doesn’t sound very adult like either.”

Her silence told me I had won the argument for now. I think her mind was somewhat calmer about what was going to happen next. As she finally lifted the hand I knew, she had given in to my words. She didn’t say a single word after, it went pretty much silent, even when she started to cry, there was not even a slight sound of sobbing. She simply accepted it. The cruelty of life cycle, is that whatever it gives, it ends up taking back, meaning you never actually end up owning it anyway. And you truly don’t know, if all you have done in this earth, is well deserved or not.  You could only hope that there is.

As I kept on thinking of my words, I knew there were a lot of matters she can argue over them if she wanted to.  But I know she didn’t. She was searching for what she claimed all of us were searching for; Comfort, that everything was going to be okay in the end.

The idea for this came onto me as I was looking for animal adoption advertisements as I am planning to adopt one in some time. Somewhat the whole conversation between the two of them formed in my mind randomly without my control. It was as if I was having an awake-dream. It usually happens like this with me and the stories. I know it’s dark. My thoughts were the same of its sadness but somehow it felt too powerful to let it slide. I wanted to somewhat record it. I had no real intention to be supporter of a side, in matter of existence of god, as I said, it all formed simultaneously, as if it was opinions of them and I’m only a spectator. So I simply wanted  you to hear them out as well.Thanks for reading  anyway

#short story #story telling #story #story writing #writing #about life #life #temporary #death #life and death #stories #writers #write #fiction #fic #original #original story #writers on tumblr #creative #creative writing #short stories #story writer #storytelling #storytime #animals #animal shelter #shelter #caring

[pentagon-diary]

PENTAGON ~ Bite me (E’Dawn smut)

**REQUESTED** 

So, this is my very very first smut. I hope you enjoy it! It’s pretty raw and bloody, but I had fun writing it! If you have problem with rough, raw and blood...Don’t read! I absolutely loved the idea of vampire Hyojong, really! It was amazing xxx Also, I mixed the ideas since I thought it would fit well! 

-Jae, xox

Masterlist Requests

Pairing: Kim Hyojong X Reader Disclaimer: Wild smut ahead! including blood and other vampy stuff Word count: 1,9k+ Summary: A dark night, a storm, you and a vampire. 

You were lost. There was nothing else to say. You had absolutely no idea you ended up in this really isolated town, but you did. Was it so complicated to go and meet your sister who just moved out? Seems like it, yes. You were really not used to travel alone by car, you’d usually go with a friend or your sister when she was still there. The stress was really starting to get you : the storm, the darkness and the unknown...All that was freaking you out. The raindrops were like bullets exploding on your windshield. You thought it was going to break! I need to stop and find somewhere to sleep for the night. You thought. You couldn’t continue in these conditions. A red neon caught your eye, it was a Motel. Better than nothing. You drove to the antique looking building, hoping to find a room for the night.

You never thought you could find this type of construction in such a lost place. The outside wasn’t looking so great : it looked old, used by the time, but when you entered the impressively big housing,  you just couldn’t believe it. It really seemed like you jumped in a fantasy, back in the old days. Was it a mansion or a motel? The Gothic art style made you wonder. Yet, there was nobody. 

“-”Please wait, I am back in a minute”? What does that mean.” You muttered to yourself.

“-It means what it means darling. How can I help you today?” Asked a really good looking man. He had blond hair, fascinating eyes and was well dressed. His eyes looked red, you didn’t know if he was tired or whatsoever, but he had a strong presence to you. 

“-I would like a room please...The storm is really strong tonight and I don’t wanna keep on driving like this.” 

“Certainly, we haven’t welcomed any guest for ages now...Sometimes we get to see some lost souls like you, but...this is it. We aren’t really famous here.”

 He gave you a key with the number “13″ written on it. Surprised, you asked about the payment, but he said it was a pleasure to welcome such a pretty girl like you. His tongue kept on licking his lips and he scratched his neck a whole lot, to the point it was bleeding. You started wondering if he was fine, but it wasn’t your business, after all. Apart from his weirdness, you felt hella attracted to him. Like a magnet. A really strong magnet.

“If you have anything, you call always call me...My name is Hyojong. What about you? I still need to put you on the register.”

“Nice to...meet you Hyojong. I’m Y/N...”

Your body felt so numb, suddenly. You had chills all over your body, you were panting heavily. You could just think about him, Hyojong. Why were you there again? You didn’t remember. What mattered was that you craved the guy before you. A fire ball was warming your stomach and making you crazy. Quickly, he noticed your behavior and went up to you, stroking your cheek and putting his mouth near your ear before murmuring a not so innocent “What’s wrong”. 

You couldn’t answer. There was no words in your mind, it was blank. You felt overwhelmed and you didn’t know why. Your body felt like another person’s, so much that you couldn’t do anything when the reception clerk took you to your room. Not that you would’ve minded though.

He laid you down on the burgundy sheets and turned away, apparently leaving. You started to feel disappointed when he stopped before the door. He continued to scratch his neck. Blood started to roll down. He cleared his throat, while he was licking his own organic liquid. He glanced at you, with now deep blue eyes that seemed to glow in the bad lighted room. 

“-Are you feeling weird? I am sorry...I can do much about the alluring aspect...Pheromones you know.” He smirked, showing up his fangs.

You should be scared, but strangely, you are not. You find him alluring, stunning in this wild state. His bloodshot eyes looked wild, hungry...sensual. You felt desire for this supernatural creature. A vampire...Was it a dream? Were you having fantasies? It felt so true, real to you. You didn’t want to wake up, if it was only your imagination. You were congratulating your brain for this.

“-I...you...” You had too much difficulties breathing to say anything. 

“-Don’t talk, I know you are. I will take care of you, don’t worry.”

His pale lips, covered in blood, were soon kissing yours. It tasted like iron, but you couldn’t care less. Your hands naturally grabbed his nape, pulling on his relatively long blond hair. He was aggressive, wild. You could feel his long teeth skinning your lips a little and sucking them to take your blood. Satisfying moans were escaping his mouth, making you feel tormented and horny. You opened your eyes to see his own fixing you intensely, like he was going to eat you. 

“-You...taste so good Y/N...I need more, more...”

His hot breath ran to your neck. You tilted your head to give him a full access to your erogenous area. You were really responsive to his touch. You could feel your whole body burn and start to feel wet. Slowly, really slowly, he teased your neck by brushing his fangs against it and kissing it. His hand started to run on your body, putting his hands under your shirt to feel your warmth and caressing it. You were completely vulnerable. 

“A-Ah...!” You stopped breathing as Hyojong pierced your skin and started drinking your blood. It wasn’t painful, the feeling was weird, it tickled a bit inside of you. You scratched his shirt, to find a grip to the sudden feeling. It was amazing.

As he let go of your neck, he started to pull your shirt over your head and then took off his own. 

“-You liked that baby? This is just the beginning...” He teased you, biting your earlobe. 

You were going crazy, you could feel your fluids drenching your panties. You were turning impatient, he kept teasing your body, leaving biting marks all over your stomach, thighs...sucking your blood and making you weaker and weaker. He was also muttering to himself about how sugary you tasted, how you were the tastiest human he ever met. The only thing you could do was watch him with lusty eyes. You were paralyzed, too much thing was happening : you lost so much blood and was also feeling this high from pleasure...

His cold fingers finally pulled your shorts and panties down, showing off the mess you left because of him. He seemed satisfied by that. He tilted an eyebrow at you as he started to tease your clitoris with his tongue. Sweet moans were escaping from your mouth. It felt like heaven, his tongue played with your overwhelmed pussy so so well. He was stimulating you so much, you were starting to crave for more and more. You never felt this lustful in your own life, this fantasy was incredible, impossible to believe. 

“-Hyo-Hyojong...Stop it...”

“-Stopping? Already...? But your body still wants it, though...Don’t you want more?”

Hyojong brought up himself to grab your jaw strongly before kissing you again while he used his other hand to finger you, scissoring your inside, making you feel all tingly. Sweat was rolling down your spine, you were hot as hell. Your shaky hands tried to go and unbelt the vampire’s hand, but it was impossible, you had no force. 

“-A little bit impatient Y/N, um? If you really want more, beg for it.” 

He stopped his actions and looked at you, showing off he wasn’t going to continue otherwise. He was a monster, taking advantage of your helpless self, but you didn’t care, you wanted it, you wanted more. 

“-Please Hyojong, please...Fuck me.”

“That’s a good girl...I would’ve liked some more for myself, but I couldn’t help myself with your blood...” He pecked your lips, two, three times and processed to take off all of his clothes. He was so pale, it was scary, he was barely glowing in the dark. You were amazed.

He pumped his length, making the veins on it throb in desire. You licked your own lips, you wanted to taste it for yourself, but as he said, you were too weak to move. You could just raise your arms a bit. Slowly, you brought your hand and put it on his to help him out. He looked at you and smirked, while groaning a little. He was riding your right thigh, you could feel some fluids from both you and him mixing as it was flowing down your hands. Your wounds in your thighs started to burn and suddenly you wanted him to bit you more, messing you up. 

Hyojong seemed to finally take you in consideration. He left your thigh to position himself between you while he stretched your leg to have a better access. Finally, he penetrated you. A long moan escaped your vocal cords. You were relieved, your body was drowning into pleasure. He was rough, animal; his trusts were powerful, you thought you would break. Your mind was going blanker than ever, your voice higher than ever. He was going so deep, hitting the right spot again, again and again. You didn’t know how he found it so quick...Was it a vampire thing? You didn’t know and care. You just knew that it was almost painful, as he was trusting this hard. From time to time, you thought you were going to faint. 

“So, so good...Y/N you’re amazing...” He groaned under his breath. 

He jumped on your lips wildly as he started to go quicker. You felt your eyes flicker, your body quivering...you were going to cum. You felt his teeth piercing your collarbone, barely eating your flesh. He was drinking messily now, he seemed to feel urged, crazy. Your shoulder was in pain, but you liked it. You were used to it. 

“-I am cumming, Hyo...jon-...” 

Suddenly, you were feeling nothing anymore. You had fainted. 

*

You woke up in the morning, all numb. You sat down in your bed, your head felt heavy. A strong dizziness was hitting you. You recalled the past events slowly...You getting lost, the storm, the motel...The vampire. You started to laugh at yourself at how absurd it sounded, but you looked at your naked body, you noticed all the traces. It really had happened. 

You went for a shower, your body hurt and burned, but you had no regrets. You put back your clothes and left your room with your key. Number 13. A completely different lady welcomed you in the hall. 

“-Good morning miss, slept well?” She smiled brightly, she looked normal. But was she a vampire too?

“-Yes, really well...Thank you and Hyojong for letting me stay.” 

“-Hyojong? There is no one called that here, miss. But it was a pleasure.” She took your key as you were in shock. What does it mean? “Oh, Dawn! You can go and clean miss Y/N’s room!”

You looked at the man who just called out by the clerk. He had brown hair, but his face looked exactly like Hyojong’s. He nodded and agreed to what the womand had asked him. He smiled to you before passing you.

“-Come back any time, Y/N...”

-Jae, xox

Masterlist Requests

#pentagon #kpop #jinho #hui #hongseok #edawn #shinwon #yeoone #yanan #yuto #kino #wooseok #imagine #imagines #scenario #scenarios #preference #preferences #pref #prefs #mtl #mtls #smut #smuts #reaction #reactions

[tayrae515imagines]

Tied Down

Requested: Yes by the lovely @yehpyahp

can i get 61, 67 and 100 with bucky please? you’re writing is so incredible by the way and i love reading your work x

Warnings: Cursing, depression. Sexual themes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't believe he's good enough for you and that thought pushes him to hurt you before you can hurt him. At least that’s what he told himself. Inside he feared the winter solider would come back and he didn't trust himself enough to stay. 

Prompt 61-  “You broke up with me! Remember?”

Prompt 67- “You can’t do this!”

Prompt 100- “I did it for your protection!”

Authors Note: Thanks for your request! Hope you like it! Also.....THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE COMPLIMENT! I’M CRYING! I am actually very proud of this one. Not edited because I’m me. 

Btw the song lyrics I used are ‘Tied Down by Jaymes Young.’ Highkey recommend his music..exspecialy dark magic.

Bucky was a flight risk. You always knew this. You had excepted that one day you would get burned but you couldn't deny the part of your soul that ached for him. For his touch, his laugh, his love. When he loved it was with his whole heart, his entire being. You felt secure and safe in his arms even in times of war and crisis. You felt loved and at home because Bucky was your home. 

When you first met you were instantly pulled into his waves of chaos, like an anchor you drowned. You made it your mission to bring the old Bucky out of him. The Bucky, Steve had told you about. You succeeded but not before giving him a part of your heart. 

That’s why the letter you were holding in your fragile hand hurt so much.

Dear (y/n),

I can’t do this anymore. I can not just lay in bed holding you close and forget about the monster I am. I know you tell me all the time it wasn't me, but it was and I know one day you will wake up to realize this. That’s why I can not keep this up. I can’t allow myself to get hurt and I can’t hurt you. It’s only a matter of time before that part of me comes back and I will NOT allow you to be there when he does. I’m sorry but we are over. 

Tears flowed from your (y/e/c) like raindrops from the sky. The sobs leaving your mouth shook your body and the world seemed to crumble apart. You had always known one day you would get burned but you didn't expect an inferno to erupt inside your heart. You hadn't expected the flames to tear you down, but they did. 

The time didn’t stop and the world went on but, not for you, not without him. Your mind trapped you in the small room Bucky and you had once shared. The white sheets became your sanctuary and you isolated yourself from the world. 

Hours, days, weeks had passed but you didn't move. It was unhealthy you knew and if it wasn't for Wanda and Steve leaving small meals outside your door you didn’t really know how you would have been. 

It was now almost three weeks you had stayed within the four walls and you had planned to stay there until you heard a knock on your door. 

“Go away.”

The words left your dry throat in a small voice. The door opened despite your protest and in walked Wanda. 

“You need to get up (y/n).”

Her accented voice rang through your ears and you turned away from her, your head now facing the window looking out to see a light drizzle covering the street below you.

“Don’t ignore me. It’s been weeks this isn’t healthy. He wouldn't have wanted this.”

Quickly turning to face her you stood.

“I don’t care what he would want! He left me, Wanda! Without even a proper goodbye.” 

You picked up the small piece of paper of your nightstand, the one that shattered you.

“He couldn't even tell me in person! He left a bloody piece of paper.”

Wanda looked straight into your eyes and saw your broken soul. Gently she grabbed the piece of paper from your hand with and with a sigh she sat you down. 

“Let’s go out tonight. Let’s have one night free of Bucky thoughts. Alright?”

“I can’t.”

Your voice was soft and cracking at the thought of forgetting Bucky. You couldn't imagine life without him, even the memory of him no matter how painful it was.

“You can and you will. It’s not forever (y/n). You are allowed to have fun.”

She was right and it brought your rage to the surface. How was this fair? He gets to just leave you broken and live his life. Standing you looked in the mirror and saw your reflection. Broken. For once you didn’t want to feel broken. 

“I-I don’t have anything to wear.”

Wanda smiled widely and stood.

“Don’t worry about that. I've got you covered.”

With a raise of your eyebrow, Wanda pulled you out of your room and into hers where Natasha stood with a wide smile. 

“It’s about time. I miss our little firecracker.”

Natasha said with an amused tone causing you to roll your eyes.

“Sit. Let us get to work.”

Wanda demanded, pushing you gently into a chair situated in the corner of the room. About an hour passes as the girls started to swarm you, makeup was being applied to your sensitive skin and your hair was being brushed out. 

“When was the last time you got ready (y/n)?”

With a light shrug, you answered.

“I took a shower this morning.”

There was a slight silence as the girls went back to work. Natasha walked to the small closet in the corner and pulled out a black dress.

“Put this on.”

Deciding not to argue you did just that and looked in the mirror. You couldn't help but grin at what you saw. You saw the old you, the you that smiled at the stupidest things and made snarky remarks. The you everyone called firecracker because that’s what you were. Bright, loud, and colorful. All the best qualities about yourself seemed to vanish when he did and now you felt like they were coming back. 

Your (y/h/c) was down in light waves and the makeup on your face was light but highlighted all your best features. The black dress hugged your body perfectly. It was sexy but also conservative.  With a deep breath, you turned to face the girls.

“Let’s go.”

With more wide grins and eager nodded the three of you headed out to a club near the tower. It was a decent sized club not too large yet not so small you were sardines. 

The first thing you did when you entered the club was go to the bar. If anything was going to make this night tolerable, alcohol was that. The first drink you ordered was gone in mere minutes and you had another in your hand. Sitting on one of the old bar stools you looked over at Wanda and Nat on the dance floor. You couldn't help but let a smile graze your face as you watched them.

“Care to dance?”

Turning around you saw a man with his hand outstretched to you. He was fairly good-looking, light brown hair and green eyes adorned his tan face. After a short internal debate, you took his hand. Tonight was your night to have fun, to forget. 

The man led you to the dance floor and with the alcohol kicking in you quickly pressed your back against his front and let your hips sway. His hands came and held your waist the two of you coming into a steady pace. All the thoughts in the world were leaving your mind and you were having a good time until the song changed.

These days the lovers trade their places Dancing all around each other's chairs I can see the numbness on their faces Jealousy fills up their hearts in pairs So please could I be selfish with your body?

'Cause I don't think I could share you with nobody

The world came back into focus quickly and you felt your head start to spin, bile rose in your throat and you had to stop dancing to steady yourself.

Please. Not this song. 

Oh when I have you I'm gonna brand you with my lips And all of the world will know that you're mine now We'll never lose faith 'Cause we'll never forget this taste

My love has the power to keep you tied down

The reality of your current position became aware and you tried to pry the man's grip off your hips. This was your and Buckys song and every pain you had felt was coming back. Guilt ran through your bones despite the fact you had nothing to be guilty for.

“P-please. I can’t.”

“Oh come on sweetheart.”

He pulled you closer to him, his lips connecting with your neck. Tears fogged your eyes and you felt dizzy.

Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh ill get you tied down, tied down

Frantic now you wiggled against him, your nails digging into his hands. He quickly moved his grip off your waist and looked at the blood dripping from his hands. 

“What the hell is your problem? Bitch!”

“Hey! Do not talk to her like that!”

Wiping your head around at the new but familiar voice you saw him. His black hair hanging just below his chin, his blue eyes had a flame of rage behind them and he approached the man you had just been dancing with. His metal and flesh hand grabbed the man by his collar and lifted him slightly off the ground.

“You don’t talk to a lady like that!”

Ohh, late at night you'll hear the screaming echo But we all pretend we never heard the cries in the daytime Don't you worry my touch won't leave you hollow I'm never going to let you change your mind

The world was suddenly becoming too much. Wobbling out of the room you took a seat in the empty hallway, leaning against the wall. You ran a hand through your hair and tried to steady your breathing. 

Oh, when I have you I'm gonna brand you with my lips And all of the world will know that you're mine now We'll never lose faith 'Cause we'll never forget this taste My love has the power to keep your tied down

“(Y/n)?” 

Looking to your left you saw him. Perfect as always he stared at you with concern which only enraged you. 

“You can’t do this!”

“Do what?”

“You can’t just leave me and then show up out of the blue and save me. You can’t look at me like that!”

“I just wanted to check on you. Good thing I did, your taste in men has definitely gone downhill.”

He grumbled the last worlds and you saw red. How dare he? You had the right to do whatever you wanted to with whoever.

“You broke up with me! Remeber?”

“I did it for your protection! Not so you could get drunk and dance with random douchebags.”

“Did it for my protection? Please don’t fool yourself Bucky! You were scared so you ran away. Let me ask you something. If you were so afraid of having feelings and of me then why did you stay? Why did you pull me close? You messed with my head!”

Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied, ohh Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down

“You only wanted to fix me (y/n)! That’s all I was to you a project. You didn’t care about me.”

“Is that truly what you think! You taught me how to love Bucky. You showed me how utterly amazing it feels to have someone care about you and then you just left and you taught me what its like to stay up till midnight crying my eyes out, you taught me heartbreak. If I only wanted to fix you I wouldn't have cared!”

“(Y/n). I-”

“I love you.”

You stated firmly, emotion dripping off your tongue and into your words.

“With every piece of my shattered heart but if that isn't enough for you then let me go. Not over some piece of paper and a half-assed note you left last minute. Look me in the eye and tell me. If I can’t have your heart then you don't get mine. That isn't how it works. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. Let me go Bucky.”

“I can’t.”

And with that his lips were against yours, sparks radiated your body. His strong hand gripped your hips roughly and his metal hand caused chills to erupt on your skin. You moved your hands into his hair and toughed lightly causing a groan to come from him. The kiss was filled with passion and an unspoken love. 

Don't be afraid to leave your mark Give me the scars to remind me Just how good you are (how good you are) And if your faith turns into to dark Pull me closer and know That it's enough to keep you tied down

You pulled him closer to you and moved your hands to the bottom of his shirt, his tongue licked your bottom lip begging for an entrance and you complied. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist and he pushed you up against the wall his lips moving to your neck, a soft moan left your lips and you through your head back in ecstasy. 

Everything was drawing you in. His touch, his taste, his smell. Every fiber of your being craved him as his did for you. The world was fading away and you two were all that mattered. The lights flickered in the narrow hallway you two occupied and he pulled away softly. 

His deep blue eyes locked with yours and you saw the lust and passion that took over his irises. 

“I love you (y/n). I don’t want to be away from you any longer. I can’t. I need you, crave you. I’m so sorry. I should have never left. I. Am. So. Sorry.”

“Don’t ever leave me again James.”

“Never. I love you.”

You pushed your lips to his again and the sparks came back, filling the small space once more. In those couple of moments, your world was being pieced back together and you felt whole again.

Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Ohh, I'll get you tied down, tied down Tied down Ohh

Tag List:

@petah-parkah-and-potahtas  @lesfleurslily @xxladybananaxx  @hp-world-imagines @messrs-howler

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagine #imagine #imagines #oneshot #captin america #winter soilder #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #avengers

[love-and-socialism]

Prompt: pasty

Where do bobbles on clothes come from, I wondered looking down at my black jacket which was now speckled with grey down the lapels. Are they fabric equivalent of hair split ends? Cutting them off with scissors would seem painstakingly boring to deal with. But what if I kept the scissor legs open and scraped it down like I was using an open-edge razor blade? Not that I had any experience of using such razor. Nor any desire to either.

I touched the edge of my jawline with my left middle finger. I haven’t shaved in three days, but I can find the area where no hair will ever grow again. I can still remember the sound the razor made as it slashed my face. My blood was quite content with being inside my body, and I liked it that way too. It was hesitant to leave at first, but then out it came like a heavy raindrop down the window, gathering pace as it met with the minuscule beads of panicked sweat that also left my body as a result of this, and ran down my arm and chest. I didn’t handle blood well at the best of times, it was always a challenge when I would donate blood, but I saw it as part of ones civic duties to do it. One time I told the nurse about my fear of needles and that I couldn’t look when she was putting it in. “Oh, I don’t look either” she replied.

The towel wasn’t red to begin with, but by the end of the O-flow it could have made a good pass for it. The crossing light changed, and I walked over to the other side. I’d misjudged the distance from the bakery to the surgery. I’d need to eat my cheese and onion pasty when I come out. I folded the edge of the paper wrapping and slipped it into my pocket. I pushed open the door which displayed a no food or drink warning sign and went in for my appointment.

As a new patient, I had to fill in the paperwork. The receptionist offered me a pen, the tip of which was covered in cellotape, spiralled upwards to lengthen the pen to the size of a school ruler. I declined her offer and pulled out my own pen, giving it two test clicks to prove that I had a genuine writing implement. She rolled back into her chair, presumably to catch her eyeballs which started the procedure, and I found a seat in a sparsely populated waiting room. I answered the questions to the best of my ability, paying attention to the special instructions in bold. Then I saw the ‘check only one box’ when asked about description of my hair. There were six options, and I ruled half of them out.

[ ] black [ ] brown [ ] grey

Well it started out as the former, goes to the middle when I’ve been in the sun, but these days it’s mostly the latter. 'check only one box’, I read again. I sigh, and hover the nib of my pen between all three, finally making the middle one as a compromise of my black/grey hair.

I am called into the room to be weighed, measured, and prodded. She casts her eyes over my completed form and looks at my hair, then back at the sheet. “No” she says. “I’m going to put.. 'peppercorn’.”

“But that wasn’t an option?” I probe.

“Your hair isn’t brown.”

“No, but your form asks for only one box to be selected.”

“That’s correct.”

I blink a couple of times “well you’ve just manually entered a choice when there was no option for me to do so.”

She smiled, wide, like she’d ordered her mouth to touch her earlobes. “It’s so we can get uniform responses on the paperwork.”

“But you’ve written something that doesn’t fit the choices! I’ve got no uniform! My answers are going casual, going rogue!”

She said nothing, telepathically asking “are you done?”

Now, the smart answer to that question is “yes”. But I’m not a smart man.

“What if I was David Bowie and I came in here with my heterochromia eyes? What option would I have selected for eye colour?”

Her smile grew wider, like she was asking the edges of her lips to touch her earlobes. “For that matter, what if I was Keith Flint and came in here with half green and balding hair? Would I be in the same grouping as him, even though our hair colours are completely different?”

Underneath her taught cupid’s bow, I noticed a little crack. She’d need some lip balm for that later. She took a deep breath and pulled on her latex gloves and approached me. Perhaps I wasn’t the first person to point out the ridiculousness of the process. Maybe she wrote it herself and I’d criticised her working methods.

I followed her instructions to outstretch my arms. Her legs bumped into the chair which hosted my folded jacket, it was a small, odd-shaped room which meant this was probably a regular occurrence for her. I watched her bend at the waist to pick up the chair and shuffle the chair on the ground, the rubber tips bumping on the ground. As I stood with my arms out, I heard a dull thud, and we both looked down to see that my pasty had falled out of my jacket pocket and sprinkled flaky pastry onto her floor. She looked at it, then back at me.

“Bad uniform.” I proffered.

#answered asks #writing prompt #flash fiction #but thanks for the prompt #quarantine writing #pasty #le pastie de la bourgeoisie

[kyotohub-ktv]

金貨 | The Idol Watch

A few months prior...

Tozai, Some time around 9PM

Laughter filled the room, mixed with the unmistakable sound of glasses noisily clinking against the bar top. Mr.Inoue sauntered to the door to click off the neon sign that read ‘open’. The manager shook his head as he turned to make his way back, a smirk spreading across his stubbled face as he eyeballed Okita rummaging through Tozai’s liquor selection.

“I could have sworn we got all the rats out of this place.” Kenji said jokingly as he slid behind the bar, ominously towering over the teenage boy. “Ah, I think you missed a big one.” Okita teased with a conniving smirk, pointing at Mr.Inoue, causing the older male’s eyebrow to twitch. Mr.Inoue folded his arms as he replied to the mischievous blonde. “Normally I’d wring your collar for that, but since we’re celebrating… I’ll let it go, now move your ass.” Okita chuckled again, bolting his way to his beside his band-mates.

Except for one...

“Speaking of celebrating… where the hell is Shino?” Nami questioned the group as she glanced at the time on her cellphone. “Hmm…” Wataru held his chin in thought before he spoke. “He’s probably on his way with Gin or something.” As they pondered their frontman’s whereabouts, the chime of entry bells caught their attention.

“Speak of the devil.” Okita exclaimed as Gin and Satsu strode inside.

“Yes. Evil incarnate himself has arrived. You rang?” Gin said sarcastically as the pair headed for a seat at the bar. “Ah, Yes... On your journey from hell, did you happen to see Shino anywhere?”

“You mean he’s not here?!” Satsu exclaimed with utter disappointment.

The threesome shook their heads before Wataru replied. “We thought he’d be coming with you guys.”

“He might be on his way with-...” Gin paused as Satsu already retrieved his cellphone, quickly sliding his fingers across the screen before pressing the device to his ear.

“Oi… Satsu!”

“...”

All eyes watched as the phone continued to ring.

“...”

“It went to voicemail…”

“What the hell? We can’t celebrate the recording wrap without him!” Nami said as she twisted her face into a pout.

“Nonsense!” Mr.Inoue shouted as he blindly began pouring a liquor concoxion into a shaker. “He’s just going to have to catch up when he finally decides to show up.”

Meanwhile….

Shino swiftly uncapped a bottle of water, nearly chugging the entire thing in a single sip as he sat hunched over in the recording studio. He gasped for air as he swiped his arm across his mouth and adjusted his headphones. His finger ridgedly made its way to the audio play button, pressing the key as he bit his lip with focus and determination.

♪♫♪

You’re an ocean’s tide.

You crashed into me like a storm.

Beautiful ocean’s tide.

You left me like the summertime.

You drifted away after fooling my trust, leaving without saying goodbye.

So far away that I could never see you again.

♪♫♪

Shino pinched the bridge of his nose as his digit slammed on the control panel, ceasing the audio from assaulting his ears again. During the past several hours he’d probably heard those lyrics tugging at his conscious over a hundred times by now.

“I must be fucking crazy...” The frustrated boy cursed out loud to himself as he peered over at his notebook that rested on the wooden stool beside him. His bloodshot eyes scanned the writing on the page as his knee began to bounce restlessly.

SNOW’s self-titled album was finally complete, after nearly a year of literal blood, sweat, and tears. Yet here he was, torturing himself over his own fucking self consciousness. On the night of the wrap party on top of that. The song was meant to be a release of his deepest thoughts into the universe, a call out to a faceless memory. A melody made for the listeners own determination.

That was until that distant memory burst to the forefront and his life stopped making sense.

The vocalist pulled the headset to rest around his neck as he pulled the notebook to his lap and clenched his pencil in his grasp. The page had become tarnished; scribbles and markings tainting his beloved lyrics while his poetic prowess continued to dwindle by the minute. As his gaze scrutinized the words he’d written, he sighed into the air.

♪♫♪

You came to my side silently.

You didn’t need my permission.

You approached me unprepared

And sang with such a beautiful voice.

I thought this was special and I dedicated myself to you, believed in you.

When I opened my eyes after giving away all my trust,

You had washed away into the ocean like the sand.

 You’re an ocean’s tide.

You crashed into me like a storm.

Beautiful ocean’s tide.

You left me like the summertime.

You drifted away after fooling my trust, leaving without saying goodbye.

Far away so that I could never see you again.

I couldn’t see ahead because of my tears and grew tired from missing you.

My heart had dried up like a fish out of water,

I was so broken and I shut everyone out.

The world’s most beautiful lie is forever.

The world’s most beautiful promise is also forever.

You’re an ocean’s tide.

You crashed into me like a storm.

Beautiful ocean’s tide.

You left me like the summertime.

You’re an ocean’s tide.

It’s okay that it wasn’t forever.

Beautiful ocean’s tide.

I know I’ll be okay after you drifted away.

You crashed into me and showed me I could live, 

even though you left me behind, leaving tears.

You’re an ocean’s tide

Beautiful ocean’s tide

Beautiful ocean’s tide

♪♫♪

His heart wrenched as he finished his countless examination of those damn lyrics. Ocean’s Tide was undoubtedly his most cherished song on the album, if not his favorite work to date. Unfortunately, there was no way in hell he could bring himself to bare his truth now that Daichi was reintroduced into his life, albeit being clear now that Daichi had no idea who he was, or worse, didn’t care. 

Another frustrated sound pushed through clenched teeth as his conflicting thoughts tore at each other, twisting the vice that pressed at his temples even tighter. Should I just leave the lyrics after all? Would Daichi even hear the song?

What if he knew the song was about him?

Shino’s stomach did violent somersaults at the mere possibility, causing him to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt. His body’s reaction was all he needed to make his final determination.

He needed to do something about this damn song tonight, even if it means the whole band would rip him a new one.

...とんとん (tap)

...とんとん (tap)

He tapped his pencil anxiously against the surface of his notebook, the sound and speed mimicking the likeness of his beating heart.

“If I my damn heart wasn’t fluttering so much, maybe I could make some progress....” Shino spoke out freely as he usually did when he was alone. Suddenly, his rapid pencil jittering came to a halt.

“Fluttering….” The boy repeated in a hushed whisper, the word lingering like a bait and hook. Gradually, his hand began to move, scrawling down the word in all its variations. Kanji, Hiragana, English, the whole page began to resemble a nonsensical makeshift dictionary, nostalgic of his journals from his childhood.

“Butterfly…”

He whispered to no one but himself as he lifted his pencil from the written Kanji.

“You’re a butterfly…” Shino sang in a gentle vocal, the words still not quite sitting right.

“Close... But-... How can I-...” He stopped himself before diving back into his notebook.

♪ “She’s a butterfly...” ♪

And the lyricist within the frantic boy began to arise from the depths of despair as he flipped the page. It’s blankness was inspiration, much like his thoughts gaining clarity.

Within the next 10 minutes, Shino had the newly branded song on paper. Now all he had to do was record the vocals, and if he were lucky, no change in the instrumentals necessary.

A few hours later…

Tozai, Possibly Midnight.

Shino had made a quick stop by the apartment to change his sweat-stained t-shirt before he finally made it to Tozai.

“I bet everyone’s pissed…” He thought as he cautiously pushed the door of the dive bar open, preparing himself for a verbal attack from his friends and bandmates.

“SHINO!” A collection of voices called out amidst the door chime from the crowd consisting of his little Yoba family.

“Well, well, well.. Look who finally decided to show up!” A plastered Mr.Inoue teased as he raised his glass in the guy’s direction.

Shino self consciously rubbed at the back of his head as his bandmates came barreling over. “Shinoooo~ We thought y-you *hic* freakin’ d-*hic* died or something!” Nami slurred, her face brimming with a drunken smirk.

“Yeah, Shi-.. We were pretty worried!” Okita laughed between his words as he slung his arm around the tall boy’s shoulders. A much awaited sense of relief washed over him seeing that his bandmates had certainly gotten far too drunk to be that upset.

“So where were you, big guy?” Wataru was the first to question as he lazily tossed his arm around Shino’s other shoulder.

“It’s… a long story.... Maybe I’ll fill you guys in after I catch up.”

--

His grip on the microphone loosened and his hand collapsed at his side as the song came to its graceful end. Wataru’s final piano notes echoed throughout the stage as the spotlights dimmed on their cue, sending the lightly panting Shino into darkness. For that brief second, he could finally allow himself to think before the eruption of applause broke out across the audience.

Like a raindrop splashing atop his cheek on the hottest day of a Seikyo summer, a feeling of regret suddenly came pouring out down.

What if I had the nerve to keep the lyr-... 

Like a roll of thunder, Shino’s band-mates had made their way from behind their instruments in a matter of seconds to join him at the center stage. Being as energetic as ever, the group came crashing against him, bumping their fists and shoulders with their infectious carefreeness that put him at ease for the moment. While the singer softly smiled at the group, he felt a purposeful nudge from Nami, her head gesturing towards the direction of applause. Hesitantly, the guy snapped to attention and poked his head towards the microphone. As the storm in his consciousness prepared to surge, he managed to get out a few words of gratitude.

“Thank you everyone, from the bottom of our hearts…”

Another swell of acclamations graced the group following Shino’s statement before they gave their final bows and headed from the stage. The sound of Kenta K and Mitsuri’s praises and bantering faded into a muffled echo as they dashed behind a curtain for a few seconds to recuperate.

“Ho-..ly-... SHIT! Shino, that was amazing!” Nami congratulated as she pulled the silently tormented boy in all directions, followed by Okita’s turn to partake in the game of Shino tug-o-war. Shino put on his best face as usual, wrapping his arms around the rambunctious pair’s shoulders in a brotherly fashion before he nodded at the quiet Wataru to get his ass over there.

“It wouldn’t have been much without you guys…”

Wataru shook his head as he bumped his fist against the vocalist’s chest. “You’re damn right, I think we all kicked some ass out there.”

The guy was right. The performance couldn’t have gone better, yet the rain clouds that brimmed with hesitations and regret was still steadily approaching. After all the trouble he’d put himself through on that sleepless night in the studio, not to mention the days he agonized before going through with his decision to ease his conscience.

As his performance soared from one crescendo to the next, not a second went by that he wasn’t picturing the boy he’d met on the beach. The one that still remained somewhere hidden in the notes that poured from the deepest places of his heart. The little Daichi that could possibly still remain in that scowling boy that probably glared at him from the gallery.

Would he still look at me like that if I-..

“Now it’s time to see what WISH is all about…” Nami interrupted his thoughts in a curious voice, peeking her head to attempt to get a view beyond the curtain. Just then, the small clip-board holding woman from earlier appeared; this time with a smile across her face. “Y-you guys were pretty great..” Quickly, she cleared her throat, shedding away her fan-girl moment to remain professional.

“Alright, follow me to the gallery. The next performance begins in 5.”

Shino sucked in a tepid breath through his nose to brace himself for what he’d have to deal with next. The vocalist made long and slow strides behind his band-mates as they made their way to the viewing gallery adjacent to the stage. His heartbeat began to throb in erratic rhythms as he perched himself at one of the four bar stools. Already, Okita and Wataru were making their idle comments of observation as they anticipated WISH’s performance.

“Look at all that equipment Kagayama has in front of him!” Okita blurted out as he tapped his hand against the quiet Shino.

“He’s gunna be using all of that?” Wataru questioned in response to Okita’s statement.

Shino couldn’t bare bringing himself to look up; even the sound of his name made his fingers twitch. With his averted gaze, he noticed a pair of shoes approach him as he suddenly felt a plushness hit his cheek.

“You were really amazing, Shino.” Satsu enthused as he applied a few touch-ups to his anemic complexion.

He managed to chuckle, glancing up as he timidly replied. “If I get anymore flattery, I think I’ll drop dead…”

The tall makeup artist shook his head, laughing as he retrieved a small comb from the styling bag at his hip. “Well, in that case, you were total shit.”

“Thanks, Satsu, that really helps too.” The boy said sarcastically just before a voice called out in the distance.

“A minute to live!”

As Satsu shifted to continue his touch ups down the line, Shino got the perfect view of center stage. Reminiscent to them a few moments earlier, WISH huddled together with their arms interlocked.

He swore he’d rather do their whole performance again in nothing but his boxers than sit through this performance. It was certainly not that he didn’t enjoy WISH’s music, but rather for the sake of maintaining his fleeting composure.

About a month before WISH had officially been signed to MUSE’s label was when Shino first heard of their existence. During one of Mr.Inoue’s drunken ramblings, he’d blurted out that MUSE was interested in a five member group and were most likely going to sign them. Shino simply shrugged before the guy heeded him with a warning. 

“Now-.. People are ‘gunna t-talk*hic*.. There’s a lotta people out t-there that’re ‘gunna compare you guysh-... Probably pit you kids a-against*hic* each other..”

His slurred forewarning was a complete mess, but he got the gist. Shino never didn’t care for what the media said, or negative comments from uneducated assumptions. The only way he’d accept the term “rival” is if they’d personally gave him a reason to.

Competition? Maybe. 

Admiration?

There wasn’t a damn thing Shino could criticize even if he wanted to. WISH’s music instilled a sense of wonder and possibility that he felt not many artists could produce these days. The uniqueness of their theme, the raw and authentic sound of the vocals; and most especially the lively instrumentals. Shino savored the mystery behind WISH until the very day he’d seen them in the auditorium.

Somehow it all made sense after the fact㇐ He wondered how he didn’t realize it was Daichi in the first place, even though he knew that would’ve been impossible.

“Alright! We’re going live in 10…”

Like a pulse, the producer began the countdown, accelerating Shino’s pounding chest into overdrive.

“5..”

His hazel eyes anxiously lifted to the stage, watching each member charging to their mark with adrenaline obviously pumping through their veins.

“3”

Shino stole the chance to fixate his gaze as Daichi slid behind the mixing board, noting his electric violin resting within arms reach.

“2…”

The blonde’s posture was relaxed and ready, his fingers moving with purpose as he pressed his headset firmly against his ear.

“1…”

“And now! Introducing our next performance!” Kenta K announced with his enthusiastic voice.

Mitsuri followed her co-host, her voice leading with anticipation.

“Please welcome..”

The pair spoke in unison as they gestured towards the group, as if eyes weren’t already glued to the stage.

“WISH!”

The audience came to a silence as an ambient melody took reign over the room, setting the tone for the performance. The strum of Inari’s guitar oscillated between Kirra’s bass tones that penetrated the chests of its listeners. Each other worldly sound lingered with Ryu’s echoing back vocals for what seemed like an eternity before fading into a pause that left the room lock and loaded with anticipation.

Inari’s opening riff kicked the song off into it’s lively core. The synthesized beat from Mina’s drum pad picked up the momentum, the electric percussion tapping in intricate patterns that Shino couldn’t help but tap his feet to. Ryu’s energetic movements commanded the stage as he marched from one side to the next, wrangling the attention of everyone in the room as their eyes follow his every step. His excitement was so infectious it made Shino wonder if he could have that kind of stage presence. Kirra’s bass became the backbone, caressing every note as her body swayed in time with her lithe fingertips.

Then there was-…

Shino’s body reacted instinctively as he leered forward in his chair, his silver eyes lidded as he watched Daichi confidently grasp his idle violin. It was like watching the end of eclipse when the blonde rested the instrument under his chin. The lights dimmed to an ambient blue against the blackness of the audience, swirling orbs of white cascaded around the stage like shooting stars. An aura fell over the entire room when the bow struck the strings like when the sun meets the horizon㇐ even SNOW could feel it.

The cold-eyed boy that Shino had become acquainted with had melted away like his emotions had been resting dormantly until he had music flowing from his fingertips. Suddenly, he felt the radiating heat in his chest flourish up his neck and settling on his face with every fiery tone.

He noticed the way his back arched into every mastered movement of his bow. How his stance shifted each time he tossed his head back when breezing through the vigorous chord progressions. It was obvious he was born to be there. The passion that exuded from the blonde when he owned the stage left Shino’s heart edging for more.

It was incredible how just watching the guy on stage had made him lose all inhibitions as he couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde for a second. Whether he was flipping his stage pedals, adjusting something at the mixing board, or simply brushing the hair from his face. The guy was utterly mesmerizing just fucking standing there.

The contrast between the person he saw on stage and the boy that scowled his way through the halls of KPA was bittersweet, yet his fascinating was steadily piquing.

What kind of person is he now… His thoughts began to roam again as the chorus of the song took over. Shino knew the only way to find out… was to actually try and talk to him. Even still, just the idea of that made his throat run dry.

As the song came to it’s climax, Ryu sauntered off to the side of the stage, leaving his echoing vocals in his wake. All eyes in the room where now on Daichi, and the guy knew it by the way his confidence planted his feet firmly at center stage. His fingers moved so effortlessly across the strings, sending the song to new heights as the solo captivated those lucky enough to hear it.

He’s… Shino thought as a shiver ran its way up his spine, sending the hairs at his neck to stand on end.

The boy’s lips parted just enough to sigh with a whisper.

“Amazing…”

It was obvious that the entire room was left energized by the electric solo by the cataclysm of applause that radiated from the audience in the aftermath. It took just about all Shino had to keep from cheering himself, causing him to realize he’d been gripping the edges of his seat nearly the entire performance. As the song started coming to its vibrant close, the vocalist began gaining back some of his self awareness. Finally, he took his eyes from the stage, glancing over at his band-mates. Luckily for him, they seemed to be just as preoccupied with the performance to notice he’d might as well of been drooling the whole time. With the final strum of Inari’s guitar, the uproarious screams and chanting had already begun as WISH had certainly left their mark on that stage. 

Shino finally loosened his fists, now feeling that previous sense of nervousness prickling at his fidgeting fingertips. His eyes began to roam frivolously, only making passing glances over the members of WISH as they came together at the front of the stage.

Kenta K’s voice rang out, quelling the applause as he attempted to speak over their cries.

“Oh.. My… God!” He said in his enthusiastic voice. Even for his TV personality, it was obvious he was impressed.

Mitsuri followed suit, clapping her hands together in a way that would rival an american cheerleader.

“Woooow~ What a performance, Am I right!?” The woman rallied the audience once again before she turned to give the members their chance to speak.

As Ryu breathlessly spoke into the microphone, Shino felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, the guy spun his head around to see the rest of SNOW beckoning him from the gallery as they were led backstage.

“Come on, Shi!” Okita mouthed as he gestured him to follow. As Shino quickly lifted from his chair, he couldn’t help but take one last glance at the stage.

I gotta say something to him…

Anything...

#shino-pov #shino #shinofuwari #idolwatch #tiwarcpost6

[bluethepaladin]

hey so you said we could ask you questions about space. so like i'm writing this fic and i want to do what you do with all the cool science stuff but i dont understand it. like what is gravity? how do u write about it? i love When I Dream it happens in Blue, btw! my fav Voltron fic!

Hi!!!

Thank you for reading when I dream it happens in blue! I’m so honored that it’s your favorite, seriously, that’s awesome! Yes, you are always welcome to send me questions, I’ll answer them as best I can.

Gravity

Gravity is the force that holds the universe together. It holds together planets and stars and holds things down to their surfaces. Gravity is what locks planets and satellites into their orbits. It’s what holds galaxies together. So, in that sense, you’re right. Gravity is fundamental when considering the setting where planets are stars are found, i.e. space. Gravity is complicated when it comes to real-world systems, but like I said before, you don’t have to master it, just understand it. 

Gravitational force follows an inverse-square law: that is to say two bodies attract each other with a force proportional to their masses, and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them. (the bigger the mass and the shorter the distance, the greater the gravity) Mathematically, it looks like thisF=GMm/r²where F is the force exerted, M and m are the masses of the bodies, and r is the distance between their centers of mass. G is a universal constant. That means it’s always the same. For the sake of clarity, I’ll give it to you in both dynes (gram centimeter/sec²) and newtons (kilogram meter/sec²). Use the value of G depending on whether your planet is measured in grams and centimeters or kilograms and meters. (basically is your planet tiny or is it regular planet-sized) Based on what you use, F will be expressed in dynes or newtons respectively.

Universal Constant:G = 6.667 × 10⁻⁸ dyne cm²/g² = 6.667 × 10 ×-11 newton m²/kg²

It’s important to note that gravity forces planets and stars into spheres. So don’t write non-spherical planets unless the non-spherical shape is maintained dynamically, meaning by ongoing forces. (For example, planets have an equatorial bulge due to the planet’s rotation, which is a dynamic force). It’s pretty implausible to have an oddly-shaped planet. Galileo actually explained this. It’s because strength goes up as the square, but mass the cube. So to make something 4 (2× 2) times as strong, it would have to be 8 (2× 2 × 2) times as massive. This is the problem with the shrinking/growing plotlines. The legs of a human-sized ant would collapse. A giant, for example, would have to have a skeleton made out of something much stronger than bone if they were humanoid. 

Surface Gravity

What we mean by this is what an object feels, the “pull” it feels by something on the surface of a spherical object, in this case a planet. Mathematically, this looks likeg = GM/r²g is the acceleration or the “pull”, G is the universal gravitational constant (see above), M is the mass of the planet, and r is its radius. It’s important to remember that g does NOT depend on the mass of the object on the surface. 

On average, g = 9.8 m/sec² on Earth, or 32 feet/sec/sec

So, how can we use that to world build on hypothetical planets? Well, what we can do is assign Earth’s gravity the value of 1. So instead of a number in meters per second squared, we’ll figure out if a planet has 2x the gravity of Earth’s or if it has half the gravity of Earth. From there, you can explore how that affects the life on the hypothetical planet. 

Here’s an equation that will help you with that.gp= Mp/rp2 = rp(ρp/ρe)

When trying to figure out the gravitational force of a potential planet, you need to take a few things into consideration. So, we’re trying to find gp or the “pull” or acceleration of an object on its surface. Remember, we assigned Earth has the value of 1, so in this case gp , Mp , and rp all would correlate to that number (if Mp equals 2.4, that would mean that the planet has 2.4 times the mass of Earth,and so on). All the letters stand for what they did before, except this time, we are adding in ρ (the Greek letter rho) to stand for the planets’ density. ρestands for the mean density of Earth (5.5 g/cm³)and ρp stands for the mean density of your hypothetical planet. 

It’s important to note that the mean density of the entire planet is all that matters. Earth would have far less gravity if it didn’t have a high-density core of iron-nickel alloy and other light elements. 

So what does this all mean?

Basically, the “pull” of the gravity on a planet’s surface depends on both the density and the radius of the planet. If you want the surface gravity of a planet that has low density to be similar to Earth’s, it would have to be larger.  For example, if we solve the above equation for rp, a planet with a density of 4.0 but Earth-normal gravity, it must have a radius of 1.38 Earth’s. Conversely, even a small planet can have a gravitational pull similar to Earth’s if it’s dense enough!

Surface gravity is a good story detail to include in science fiction. For example, things will fall faster on high-gravity planets, human people on such a world would be more injury-prone. Not only will things hit harder, but their reflexes, tuned to a more leisurely pace will be too slow. Characters are also likely to suffer from heart problems if there for extended periods of time. There would be an adjustment period where the body has to get used to digestion and circulating blood at this new level of gravity. If all other things are equal with this planet and Earth, mountains would likely be lower, weathering would be more effective: raindrops hit harder and landslides would happen more often.

Notes:

Surface gravity differs from place to place, because no planet is a perfect sphere. First to consider is the rotational flattening from the planet’s spin. Due to this alone, Earth’s sea-level value varies from ~9.83m/sec² at the poles to ~9.78 at the equator. 

Gravity variation has two causes: the different distances from the center of the Earth (the poles are closer than the equator) and the face that centrifugal force offsets gravity slightly, with the maximum at the equator. For slow-moving planets like Earth, this variation doesn’t really affect daily life, but it could become important on a planet that spins rapidly! Other causes of variation include tidal distortion and difference in density of subsurface rocks. Once you know the rules, it can be fun to play with them. 

Hope this helped! Link me to your fic when you’re done, so I can check it out!

love Blue

#voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #science fiction #writing tips #astronomy #space #blue answers