#this is insane i get like this every few weeks and then suddenly ill have a week where i have SO much energy and i feel happy and capable

[shijuruiburning]

depression induced paralysis where nothing is interesting or fun anymore, all my & mind body wants is to sleep or eat.

#physical objects make me temporarily happy but they dont fill the void!!!! i cant just like ... buy things constantly either #this is insane i get like this every few weeks and then suddenly ill have a week where i have SO much energy and i feel happy and capable #ill clean and play games and draw. but then it will crash and ill be back to being utterly miserable and depressed again #i dont understand it !!! why !!! #i want to dig a hole and bury myself in it #shut up ripley #the cycle never ceases #i go to work and thats it. maybe ill do errands with my sister #my brain is a horrible sick mess i wish i knew the true source of what was wrong with me #it makes me so suicidal you have no idea #but the doctors think im too well behaved to go to the ward and i can function normally #i really dont know what to do #maybe this is a cry for help

[imperator-titus]

If I could come up with a title for this series, I would, but I can't.

Thank you to the few people enjoying my work! It has encouraged me (probably a little too much.) This one is pretty long. There may be a lull soon simply because I haven't finished Act 3 on my own so I don't really have an idea for how that'll go. I also don't really know how it'll go in general because this is a fairly sanitized version of my daily daydream material. Concepts ranged from Rowan being a 'minor death deity that Withers pulled into Toril' to 'Rowan can do a lot of things with the power of imagination and suddenly she's a Sister of Battle punching Steel Watchers or a cyberninja a la Cyberpunk getting the Party out of trouble.'

Anyway, Tags (Trying to update when I realize something should probably be tagged): Astarion x Tav (Rowan, not reader, human, agender AFAB but lets the team refer to them as female), Canon x OC, Isekai, Angst, All the Vampirism Warnings (Blood, Biting, etc.), Sexually suggestive situations, Allusions/Mentions of Suicide, Memory Loss, Gender Dysphoria

The group had infiltrated the goblin camp yesterday and decided to take a day to properly rest and come up with a plan. ‘Plan’ was a rather loose word, mostly consisting of “turn goblins into bloody pulp and ash” and bullshitting.

Rowan was, of course, still in a sour mood from her last encounter with Astarion. He was still doing his best to avoid her, lest she turn that icy glare on him again. Everyone noticed and he did a poor job of lying.

“Maybe you should come with us,” Karlach offered a little hopefully as she watched the others’ breakfast being made. “I find it pretty relieving to take out my bad mood on something squishy and gross like a goblin.”

“I think, perhaps, Rowan could talk to us first, instead of putting herself in harm’s way,” Wyll rebutted with a wry smile. “You know, it's been some time and we don't really know much about you.”

“Not much to tell,” she responded woodenly, stirring the potatoes she was frying.

“But where are you from? You're clearly not from Faerûn. But you can speak with us, so it can't be anywhere too exotic,” the Blade continued to ponder aloud. Gale scoffed.

“Ridiculous. You didn't see her when first we arrived on that abysmal shoreline. She was clearly plucked from Faerûn when the nautiloid went through some temporal shift between planes.”

“Heyyy,” Karlach started cautiously, holding up a warding hand towards the woman in question, “why are you almost as red as me? Are you alright?”

Rowan screeched. Loud, piercing, and feral. Everyone recoiled. Lae’zel half-drew a knife. With seething rage, the human hurled her spatula into the ground by her feet with enough force that it sank in a few inches with a satisfying shnk.

“You want to know if I’m alright?!” she screamed, looking them all in the eye, settling on Astarion’s for a few moments. “I am actively going insane, and you’re all compelled to make it worse!

“You’re right, I'm not from here. I don't even know where this place is in relation to where I'm from. Why am I terrified all the time? Why do I ask you dumb questions?” She pointed into the sky with a rage-trembling finger. “That's not my moon! Those aren't my stars! The only things that talk are humans. Elves, dragons, magic? Make-believe tales for children. The dead stay dead and they have nothing to say to us. The existence of God? Practically a matter of philosophy.

“As if it wasn't enough that I am in a place that I am wholly ill-equipped and untrained for, every day I wake up on this horrifying rock and forget a piece of what my life was like before. I have been standing here, making our food, while desperately trying to remember the faces and names of people I loved, the things I've done, the shit that makes me me, and you all come up and fucking prod me about stuff that means nothing  to me. I spent our first week here debating the possibility that I've died and this is my own personal hell, which I didn’t believe in until I was being constantly tortured by this place. The person I shared most of my life with is just a shapeless fucking shadow now. I have almost completely lost the concept of who I am as a person. Nevermind that you” Rowan singled out Astarion with an accusatory finger “keep saying and doing things to me that make me want to peel off my own skin on a near-daily basis because for some reason I’ve now long forgotten, they trigger a deep-seeded revulsion at the concept of my having a corporeal form that I am unfortunate enough to still inhabit.

“So, to answer your question; no, I’m not alright! Make your own fucking last meal before you get eaten by goblins.” Rowan turned on her heel and confidently walked out of camp.

She was out of sight by the time anyone could speak.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Gale asked, an inquisitive finger on his chin. “A world with no magic? How would that even work?”

“The worm has scrambled her senses,” Lae’zel said dismissively. “There is no reason to believe anything she says. You should have allowed me to put her down long ago.”

“But it would explain everything, wouldn't it?” Karlach uncertainly voiced, crossing her arms. “She didn’t even trust the vegetables.”

“I cannot imagine losing my very sense of being, surrounded by strangers in a strange land. And to not even have an inkling of combat training,” Wyll mused with a sad shake of his head.

“Well-” Astarion started, one emphatic hand frozen in the air and the other on his hip, before huffing in frustration.

“You were going to say ‘good riddance’, weren’t you?” Shadowheart teased with a sly smile. She knew he couldn’t say it.

The vampire sighed and lowered his hand. “It’s hard to say good-bye to a reliable meal that cleans its neck.”

“Are you crazy?!” Karlach cried, clenching her fists and furrowing her brow. Her fire blazed for a moment before she turned to gather her equipment. “We can’t let her go out alone!”

“Surely she’s coming back? She left her things,” Gale pointed out.

“Wizards really are idiots,” Karlach said over her shoulder with clear annoyance. “Rowan knows she won’t make it out there on her own! A bedroll isn’t going to change that.”

“The danger will either teach her to fend for herself or cull the weak,” Lae’zel pointed out before returning to her tent.

Karlach growled and made a rude gesture in the githyanki’s direction. Astarion also turned to leave, but the tiefling carefully pinched his shirt between her claws just briefly enough to tug him and ruin his balance. “No you don’t, you leech, you’re coming with me.”

“Why me?” Astarion whined, trying to see if she scorched his one decent shirt. “You might recall that she has been very unpleasant towards me lately. I don’t think this is the face that will win her back,” he argued, flamboyantly fanning his hands from below his chin to the sides of his face, smiling as he did so. The smile dropped, replaced by a glower as he flicked his hand in the wizard’s direction. “Take Gale.”

“Nope, you got the most to apologize for. Now put your leathers on and let’s go.”

In a few minutes they were on the road, just the two of them. Astarion debated whether or not Karlach was going to singe his ear off before he muttered, “This is ridiculous.”

“I know, deep down, you don’t mean that.”

Astarion scoffed. “How much complaining must I do before you lot realize that I don’t want to do good things?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you were a good person before Cazador?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with now.”

“You’ve had a hard go of it, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a dickhead to everyone.”

“This is probably a bad time to say that I’ve been letting you go in the wrong direction for the past 5 minutes?”

Karlach roared. Astarion veered a few steps away to avoid being burned. “What’s wrong with you?!”

Sheepishly, he started leading her in a different direction. “I think the answer to that should be quite obvious.”

Karlach stomped beside him for a bit before becoming visibly confused. “Wait, how do you know the right way?”

“I can smell her blood on the wind,” he answered theatrically, fingertips twinkling in the air like magic. Karlach’s eyes went wide in shock.

“She’s hurt already?!” Astarion rolled his eyes.

“No, darling, it’s just a vampire thing.” Karlach walked silently for a few more beats.

“Like one of those dogs that track something by its smell?” she asked rather innocently. Astarion bristled.

“No.” He eventually sighed in defeat. “Yes, like a scent hound.”

It wasn’t that long before they caught up to Rowan. They found her on the stretch of beach where she and Shadowheart had awoken and started this journey together.

“What is she doing? This isn’t that far from camp,” Astarion pointed out, almost a little miffed. “I thought she was going to find a dragon or something to gobble her up.”

“Looks like she’s fishing, big guy,” Karlach answered earnestly, unsquinting her eyes. “And you are going to go ask her how it’s going.”

Astarion huffed. “What if I mess this up? I’m going to mess this up. Apologies and caring aren’t exactly some of my strong suits.”

“Then I’ll drag her back. She might be a little crispy, but better than goblin food.” When Astarion started to argue, Karlach pointed a firm finger toward the beach. His shoulders sagged in defeat before he rolled them back to swagger with his usual self-importance.

The beach was an absolute mess. The forgotten bodies of dead fishermen were mostly bones, their flesh taken by both animals and the elements. Fetid piles of goo pooled under the nautiloid’s hulking tentacles. Thankfully, a breeze was pushing the smell away from them.

Rowan remained seated as he approached, but an ever-so-slight turn of her head indicated that she knew he was there. “I’ll be honest, you're probably the second-to-last one I expected to look for me.”

“Darling, I’m hurt.” He feigned a blow to his ego, but realized she couldn’t see. With a tone like a lady-in-waiting looking for something scandalous, he asked, “Who's the first?”

“Karlach,” she answered immediately.

“Well, she’s here too,” he said after a deflating huff. “Almost ruined my shirt dragging me out here.”

Rowan didn't respond, merely flicked the end of her fishing pole. Astarion could hear her breath change slightly for a moment before returning to normal. Actual normal, not that high-chested cornered-animal breathing she usually did. Her heart beat a steady rhythm in his ears. 

“Fishing? Really? We thought you were looking for a way to kill yourself.”

“I liked fishing. I still remember that,” she told him calmly.

“I think I’d rather die,” he remarked before lowering himself onto a nearby rock that wasn't too dirty. A few moments passed in silence as he tried to figure out how this whole apology thing was supposed to work.

“What’s it like?” Rowan asked before he could even start to find the words. Red eyes flicked over to her, but her attention remained on the water. “Forgetting who you are?”

“Well, I lost myself all at once, so I’m not sure that it compares.” He also didn't like to think about it too much, but it kept coming up in conversations. The group had a way of doing that, making everyone slowly expose the most horrible shit that happened to them. “You had a point, though. The dark shape sitting in your memory. As if you might be able to squint hard enough to make sense of it, but you can't. It nags at you, that it's there and you can't get to it.”

She flicked the end of the rod again, a look of deep contemplation on her face. It eventually softened. “That first night you came to my tent, when I asked you not to stop? I'd forgotten my husband’s name. I spent all day trying to remember it. I was afraid I’d forget something else in my sleep.”

Astarion still didn’t understand why Karlach insisted he be the one to do this. Maybe he was capable of empathy and compassion when he was a mere elf, but life as a spawn had surely broken the part of him capable of relating to the plights of others. He didn’t feel the need to apologize for teasing her, because that was fun. They all did it to one another, why was she special? No one apologized to him for making barbs about his condition.

Although… When she pushed him off of her, when she screamed at them all and ran away, he was afraid. Afraid that Rowan would be gone for good. Not just afraid that he’d have to find some other necks to bite, but that he would no longer feel her warmth. She would no longer be there to admire him and he couldn’t spy on her in the mirror when she wasn’t looking. That cute little look of utter concentration, the nimble flicks of her fingers as she used some thoroughly practiced skill. Here she was, so focused and casual as she waited for her prey to strike.

It hurt when they made those jokes about him. Would he feel better if they apologized? It would have to be genuine. That was probably why he didn’t want to apologize. Astarion was a lie, a lure, and probably hadn’t been genuine in over 200 years.

“I’m sorry about the other day. When I pushed you,” she said, solemnly breaking the silence between them. “I wasn’t ready to accept that my old life was gone. You didn’t know that what you said would hurt so much.”

“I said something very cruel,” he responded after the initial shock wore off. “The circumstances only made it that much crueler. For once, I… I am actually sorry.”

“I’m glad I could be your first,” Rowan joked with a completely straight face. Astarion laughed loudly and if he hadn’t covered his eyes, he would’ve seen a broad smile spread across her face. When he was done, she swiftly pulled her line out of the water. “Come on, then. Who else is going to make dinner for those idiots?”

Astarion turned first to leave, only to find Karlach grinning and giving him two thumbs up. How embarrassing.

“So, we’re all good now?” Karlach asked excitedly as they approached.

“We’re all good now,” Rowan confirmed with a nod. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Karlach’s eyes went big like when Scratch begged for scritches. “It’s awful what’s happening to you. I still remember what it was like when I first ended up in Avernus. At least I could take my anger out on demons. All you have is a frying pan!”

Instinctively, Rowan tried to place a hand on the woman’s arm, and nearly did, but Astarion swatted the hand away before she could burn herself. Instead, she smiled up at Karlach. “Well, when Dammon can finally fix your engine, I'll be first in line for a hug.”

“You can count on it!”

They walked along, Karlach in front and Astarion bringing up the rear. Not that there was much danger the way Rowan fled, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

Karlach was humming to herself when Astarion sped up to walk beside Rowan. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Did you really mean that? That I make you want to… peel off your own skin?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not about you,” she answered with a reassuring tone and a soft smile. “You’re the only one… touching me and pointing out the way I look and it just… reminds me that I’m in this body and I don’t like it. I would say that I’d rather be a ball of pure energy, but then I’d have Gale sucking on my neck.”

Astarion laughed loudly again. Karlach looked back at them and pouted. “What’s so funny?”

“Talking about how cute Gale is,” Rowan lied, only to be attacked with one of Astarion’s sharp elbows.

“Gods, don’t tell me you believe that,” he warned her, a defeated look in his eyes. Rowan shrugged.

“What? You’re all cute. Druids were cute. Those tieflings were cute. Bet there’ll be a lot of cuties in Baldur’s gate.”

Astarion glowered at her. “I am not. Cute. I’m gorgeous.”

“Aww, take the compliment, Fangs,” Karlach admonished him, her flames running hot like a blush. “I think it’s sweet. She’s never even seen an elf before and she thinks you’re cute, not disgusting.”

“Wyll showed me a picture of a kobold once. They looked pretty cute too.”

Astarion gagged loudly.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #isekai #bg3 tav #Rowan OC #tw sexually suggestive situations #agender oc #original character #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw memory loss #tw gender dysphoria #titus writes #a non hero's guide

[catboyfever]

Stargazing - Owlbit Fluff

Hiiiii I'm back with another wtp fic :3. I'd say I'm pretty much not ~obsessed~ anymore but it's one of those comfort properties that I'll always come back to now and then. Anyway, I've been meaning to expand on the Owlbit ship for a while and I thought this would be an adorable way to do that. I hope you enjoy! I might do more of these sometime soon.... they're just so cute together.

The light of the moon and stars were muted under a thick blanket of fluffy clouds. The moon shone as bright as it could, but against the cloud cover only a pale sphere could be seen. Ordinarily, Rabbit would’ve been fast asleep at this hour. His work started at the crack of dawn so he was an early to bed early to rise type. However his sleep had been plagued these past few weeks. The visit with Owl had stirred up feelings within him that he didn’t know how to handle. Suddenly, he looked at Owl in a light that he never had before. His silly prattling and ramblings carried some weight to them. The knickknacks and junk that he kept were suddenly objects of interest to him and his wings that he never thought twice about suddenly looked majestic and powerful.

When Owl had suggested Rabbit go along with him to stargaze that night, Rabbit had actually laughed at him. When he saw Owl’s puzzled expression at his outburst, Rabbit asked him to clarify how they were to see any stars when the cloud coverage had persisted all day and would likely persist well into the night. That was when Owl told him that he’d be able to see the stars just fine above the clouds. Any other day Rabbit would have immediately told Owl to dream on and storm away but before he could even think about it Rabbit heard himself say “Yes” to the insane proposal.

Now Rabbit was standing at the base of the tree that Owl lived in, scared out of his wits to knock on the door. He paced in circles around the tree trying to come up with ways to push himself to just climb the ladder already or go home and think of some lame excuse to tell Owl when he saw him next. Heights were one thing, but heights with someone he was having these confusing feelings for was a whole other story. Rabbit’s fur was standing on end, his ears were pinned firmly down against his back as he paced and just as he made his mind up to just go home, he heard a door open.

“Rabbit! I’m so very glad you came!” Owl said cheerfully.

Rabbit froze in place and slowly turned to face Owl. “O-Of course I did!”

Owl leapt from his porch and floated down towards Rabbit. Wrapped around his neck was a soft, fuzzy blue scarf and clutched in his hands was a red scarf. He handed the scarf to Rabbit, smiling warmly.

“It gets cold up there. This will help keep us warm.” Owl said.

Rabbit nodded and took the scarf from his wings, wrapping it around his neck. The night was already a bit chilly, so the warmth the scarf provided was welcome but it was nothing compared to the warmth blossoming in his chest now that Owl was near him.

“Why thank you, Owl. That’s very thoughtful.” Rabbit said.

A small period of silence grew between the two of them as Rabbit’s eyes darted every which way. He didn’t want to be the one to initiate the flight and he wondered if Owl might have sensed his apprehension.

“Well, are you ready?” Owl asked.

“O-Of course I am! Don’t I look ready to fly?” Rabbit said shakily.

“To be frank, you look scared out of your wits.” Owl said with a chuckle. “But rest assured, Rabbit. I won’t let anything ill befall you.”

Every nerve in Rabbit’s body screamed for him to just stay on the ground but he felt his head nod slowly and his lips curl into a nervous smile. “Alright then, Owl. I trust you.”

Rabbit circled behind Owl and it only then hit him how much taller the owl was. His head barely came up to his shoulders, and when he hooked his arms around Owl’s large frame, his hands settled on the soft, downy feathers of his crest. Owl spread his wings wide and in the moonlight, Rabbit gazed upon the impressive wingspan of glittering feathers. With a mighty flap of his wings, Owl kicked off the ground and sent the pair soaring into the night sky. Rabbit’s grip on Owl tightened ten fold once they were in the air and screwed his eyes shut.

“It’s a wonderful night out, isn’t it?” Owl shouted as they continued to soar towards the clouds. When he didn’t get a response, he asked again. “Rabbit? Are you alright?”

“F-Fine! Yes totally fine…” Rabbit finally managed to open his eyes and gasped at the sight before him.

Above the cloud line, the moon and the stars shone without inhibition. Silver rays of moonlight and twinkling stars aplenty dotted the night sky. Owl began to descend much to Rabbit’s horror, but once he landed softly on a fluffy cloud, Rabbit gently let go of Owl and stood on the cloud himself.

Rabbit had never been so close to the stars before. The faint hints of light that he could see on the ground level were nothing compared to the dazzling assortment of twinklings lights he saw all around him, totally uninhibited. Owl took a seat right on the cloud they were standing on and Rabbit cautiously took a seat next to him.

“Didn’t I tell you we’d be able to see the stars just fine?” Owl said with a grin.

“You weren’t exaggerating at all… I’ve never seen the stars so clearly before.” Rabbit said while soaking in the sight.

“You see that constellation over there?” Owl asked, pointing to one even Rabbit could recognize, the big dipper. “My Uncle first showed me that constellation when I was a chick. Made my mother furious that he would’ve taken me so high when I was so young, but I’m so very glad he did. It stirred a fascination in me with the stars and the world at large.”

“Owl, that’s beautiful. Are there any constellations your family claims to have discovered? I’m sure there’s at least a few.” Rabbit said with a smirk.

Owl wrapped a wing around Rabbit’s shoulders. Rabbit hadn’t noticed how gusty the winds were and how chilly he truly felt until he was suddenly pressed against soft, warm downy feathers as Owl used his free wing to point out more of the stars. His cheeks felt like they might singe his fur right off if they got any warmer.

“Well of course they have! Why just over there my Great Aunt…” Owl launched into another one of his rambling spells but Rabbit listened intently to every word that came out of his beak.

Owl told tall tales of his family’s history of mapping the stars and the constellations that they named. He even claimed one was named after himself, but they couldn’t see it at this time of year. As the night went on, Rabbit rested against Owl’s chest as he continued to point out constellations and told their stories. Eventually though, they both grew tired as the night went on and Rabbit had to once again cling for dear life to Owl’s back to get back to solid ground. Rabbit watched as Owl carried them down through the thick layer of clouds and slowly descended back to his house. This time around, he was more calm despite his shaky legs as he felt his feet plant onto the ground.

Owl snickered at Rabbit’s shaky steps backwards and closed the distance between them to wrap both of his wings firmly around him and pull him in for a hug. Rabbit leaned into him, sighing in relief as the familiar sensations calmed him.

“I had a fantastic time tonight, Rabbit. If you ever want to go up again, let me know.” Owl said gently before pulling away.

Rabbit nodded. “Of course, I would love to go up again sometime very soon.”

Owl flapped his wings and soared up to his house. He opened the door and waved at Rabbit before stepping inside, leaving Rabbit alone. Rabbit walked back to his house, all the while keeping his eyes on the sky for any signs of the stars that now meant so much more to him now that he saw them so close… with a person he hoped to become even closer with.

#owlbit #owl (wtp) #rabbit (wtp) #wtp #winnie the pooh #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #fluff

[cosmicjellies]

no one cares but here is another long and disorganised dark shadows update from my serializd:

finished the werewolf + quentin's ghost storylines! what a nice round number to finish on for now.

keep being tricked into watching more- i remember when i first started this show it was primarily for Vampire Research so i wasn't sure i'd watch beyond that, then i continued with adam, then i thought "oh ill keep going until 700 maybe ill finally know who quentin is". except it turns out i do not actually know who quentin is and have not even heard him speak yet. so i HAVE to continue ig. was looking thru the storylines again thinking ok i think ill slowly keep going until i finish the leviathans, i'm not that interested in the parallel universes. but who knows maybe by the time i get there i'll be compelled to continue.

anyway back to these storylines: it took me forever to realise they were doing "the turn of the screw" with david and amy so i might be stupid. i love that book and i love the idea of it here too, but was not that into the execution. for one there was just too much going on at the same time so i couldn't concentrate, and it didn't spend enough time on it to patiently develop it like i think it needed to. also, so much of the story so obviously reflects child (sexual) abuse and they were obviously not actually interested in exploring that, so i found that kind of jarring. i liked when david tried to kill roger, pretty iconic.

werewolf story also did not always work for me, mostly bc i don't really care about chris. introducing new characters has worked well for them in the past, it obviously worked extremely well with barnabas, but there comes a point where i wish they would stop bringing in new people and focus on the ones we already have. after carolyn was attacked/scratched i did think for a second she would be a werewolf (too unfeminine for the 60s?), and i did wish she or someone else in the family was- i already care about them! i don't care about chris! (i also remember she was a werewolf in the bad tim burton movie but we won't speak about that). suddenly including that chris and sabrina flashback in one of the most recent episodes was very weird to me- have we ever had a flashback like that before? have we ever left collinsport? it feels like they are breaking their own rules and in a bad way.

for both stories i do not understand how we are kind of done with them. i get that barnabas is searching the past for answers connected to both stories but i still feel like we are very abruptly switching gears, when both of those stories needed more time to develop. how are we going to spend 200 episodes in the past, then come back and deal with the leviathans, and somehow resolve those things along the way?? i am guessing we will not.

miscellaneous thoughts not really connected to any of this:

-found it kind of hilarious how elizabeth KEPT "dying"- it happened like three times. she also had explained exactly how it was going to happen and yet each time everyone was surprised. this storyline was not always comedic to me- at times i emphasised with her- but like come on. and this is not new but julia is such a terrible doctor; she examines elizabeth after she has been buried for a few weeks and is like no she is definitely dead case closed- no mention of the fact she has not decayed at all in all that time? love this about her tho i think it is cool that women can be terrible doctors too <3.

-at one point there was a scene in which barnabas and maggie were very casually interacting and i suddenly remembered all of the kidnapping and torture- god!! maggie!! barnabas did all of that to her and remembers all of it and just carries on with his life!! and she does not remember any of it!! going insane.

-i only just realised tony peterson's last ever episode was 578 and i will never see him again :(( hot communist lawyer accusing the collinses (correctly) of all being incestuous i miss you.

-every time it is revealed they own yet another piece of property or have yet another wing of the house they don't use i scream how big is it how many houses do they own!! they all deserve to be this haunted.

anyway i am EITHER watching episodes 1-209 next or watching the 90s remake, i will do both before 700+ but i haven't decided the order. thoughts?

#dark shadows

[genuflectx]

Tw for talking about animal death under the cut

After only two years together and a slow decline, we had to make the call to help our dog Rosie pass last night when she became suddenly very ill. 😞

There is a lot to say about Rosie... we adopted her a few months after my childhood dog passed, and she was the first pet Jester and I picked out together (but being honest... it was mostly Jester's choice). Though she was a bit shocked at the shelter she was quiet and sweet and kept scratching us for pets, so we took her home.

We quickly realized she was not quiet and that she had severe emotional issues. She could hear but didn't respond to human speech, doors made her so anxious that she would yell and rip apart baby gates even if she had tons of space, and she lost a tooth during (failed) crate training. There were a lot of sleepless nights and a trip to a vet behavioralist when we decided to keep and work with her instead of rehome her. This year we realized she was likely far, far older than the vets estimated, given her beginning to lose walking in her back legs (something that can happen to elderly dogs, it happened to Jake at age 13-14 before he passed).

Getting her on anxiety meds/arthritis meds and keeping her out of crates significantly helped and for about a year she was as calm as she'd ever be, save for general anxiety, but no more late night barking. She even got used to seeing closed doors and stopped freaking out at every baby gate. Of course, then we had to deal with her anxious drinking water issue and her inability to learn how to tell us when she wanted out to pee. So we just took her out every 2-3 hours, and that generally worked with a combination of diapers and puppy pads.

She would wag her tail sometimes when she saw us, and when she was silly she'd roll around on her back but she never wanted to play. She didn't know how to be a dog. But still, when I had oatmeal on the weekend she'd sometimes come up to the couch and wag her tail, staring with her insane eyes, and then try to lick the bowl in plain sight if I put it on the table. That was the most "being a dog" she ever did, and I'm glad we were able to get her from "self destructive because she saw a baby gate on the stairs" to "naughty dog stealing oatmeal." Even if it was only for about a year.

Last night I stood her on the grass in the yard for some exercise because she never really enjoyed walks much. At dinner, she sat and shook paw the way I taught her (back when I thought she could not learn I was overjoyed she learned to do a few tricks) to get her favorite dessert, a quiche flavored dog treat. Hours later the slow decline elderly dogs get took a sharp downturn and it hit us like a train. It was immediate and got worse over a few hours.

I will spare details, but I believe it was either a stroke or a third bout of vestibular disease, but this time she was too much on the decline to come out of it alright. Even if she did we knew she would never fully recover (she didn't the first two times, always had a tilt, but happy). I believe we made the right decision. At 1am at an emergency vet we said goodbye and the anxiousness she'd carried with her for who knows how long melted away into rest and peace.

It feels good to talk about her life even in a ramble on a Tumblr post. We did the best we could to give this elderly, neurotic dog two golden years of retirement from whatever background she came from. And we may not have had a week to prepare and to cook her a big farewell dinner like Jake, but she had bacon and eggs and oatmeal and cheese for her adoption day party only a few months ago, so she at least got that. Even getting petted by so many people at the dog park, and they all gave her treats for her special day, and she was the happiest I'd seen her for a while.

We'll miss you Rosie Posie Daisy Doo. I'm glad you're not afraid and hurting anymore, and that we could be friends even if just for a little while.

#tw animal death #animal death #sickness

[vanillatalc]

this evening was a bit of a :|

a few hours after clare left benno told me that tmr we're gonna have to have a pub lunch w/ his family so i immediately freaked out bc this additional Thing on top of seeing boops & his gf last weekend + having clare this weekend (after like, 3y of nothing, bear in mind, so EVEN THO i was so happy to see them both it also took a decent amount of time to like stop being anxious + come down from that spike. like im still a little keyed up now. they both follow me on here btw + none of this is news to them i hope lol. i love u both im just insane x)

i got so angry (not at ben but at the situation, through fear) that i juts stopped talking and went away upstairs to lie in my bed to try and calm down alone

a few mins later ben came uptsairs + i immediately was like "i really just want to be alone actually" then realised he was crying so i was like ...ok come in (crying trumps general rage in terms of Need i think)

we think it's a long-term mental effect of the pandemic where he gets rly emotional after a social event ends bc it reminds him of like the 3y where it was just us in this tiny little universe + he panics bc i think he goes like straight to that place in his mind where he's just never gonna see anyone again? like every goodbye feels like it's gonna be forever

so anyway he tried to get me to talk about MY feelings during this time + i was just like sry i cant lol. you know when you're hollowed out inside through a combo of rage / general madness / having to remain compos mentis for someone else who needs you. AINT GONNA HAPPEN

so after that settled down i did message him on discord like "love u, not angry, will talk to you later this eve about MY feelings" (+ did stick to this obvs)

think the general sticking point is that while ben seems to have been a bit traumatised by lockdown + the social isolation i found it incredibly incredibly easy + stress-free, + have found the slow transition to normal life v difficult (and still do find it both difficult + incredible to watch in the sense that we're all just pretending covid is over bc like it's easier ig??). ill just c/p what i said to ben here: "if you found the lockdown unexpectedly traumatic I found it lovely and have found the return to normal really difficult & think people are just pretending we're back to pre COVID times when we aren't and I find that cognitive dissonance very hard to deal with, I also can't stand gatherings based around food anyway as you know and it seems to literally be all that is ever on offer and it struck me in the same way as the pret in Portsmouth or you being invited out for the meal when my sister was here etc busy couple of weeks that filled me with huge levels of anxiety and stress, thought tomorrow might be a bit more low key but no, got to to do something else I fucking loathe just very fed up and tired"

he asked me again to talk to him more about my feelings instead of just suddenly crashing when something slightly unexpected happens - i said yes - i think im just confused by how much he wants me to talk to him about LOOOL like if i told him every single anxious thought or w/e id be talking to him 24/7 and it just feels like i dont know which thoughts are the ones to share + which aren't???

anyway w/e it got sorted out w/ solid communication i think tbh like ben says we wont do the lunch. i said that he could do it if he wants but there's not a chance in hell im stepping foot into that pub lmfao like there are so few things he wants to do that i actually refuse (hopefully if u read my blog regularly you will understand that this is true) but i have reached my limit on Events Not In My Comfort Zone, and idc if he wants to do it, he's welcome to, but i will walk around the village during that time he was like "ok that's not gonna happen sweetie bc they'll think you hate them" so we're just not doing it. i do feel bad but also i literally like cannot do it? like i am just fully comfortable in the knowledge that i cannot do it, will not do it, and am simply not doing it. so if that means ben isnt gonna do it either that's just gonna have to be how it is. like not to be dismissive but ... this is how i am + he picked me knowing that so like.

OK loads more shit happened in the hour i took away from this post, benny thinks it might be worth postponing the woods trip just bc he's worried how to spin the lunch thing (whereas im like if you want to tell them im insane just tellt hem idc) but we had a good chat in bed + i love him a lot lol. i do like how good we are at emotionally comforting each other. i think we should 100% go tmr but he's a bit fragile (see above lol) so ill just defer to him on this one, im not exactly in a position to be like "JUST POWER THROUGH!!" hahahhaha anyway we'll see how he's feeling tmr. he's more cheerful now anyway bc we had a nice chat + committed to making some post-wedding plans as well so he wont feel that giant post-event freakout that seems to be plaguing him atm

#we're gonna do pottery classes :D

[suzufield]

auston matthews and ginger from chicken run (connor mcdavid) for the ask meme ?

auston matthews

first impression: so, this one's kinda specific, but my first impression of him came from a fanart I saw on here. so really I didn't know much (this was before my hockey era) except, oh, the people here are really into shipping him with some other hockey guy. okay. not like I formed a lasting impression off that, but I did think his outfit was really cool, so you know, there's that. he's the first hockey guy to breach containment for me, I was not really interested at the time (this was not even a year ago 😭) but it's kinda special in that way

impression now: in general, seems like a chill guy. you know I try to perceive the leafs as little as possible but I respect him. also, cool outfits. he slays. good for him. however I DID read a fanfic which I'm pretty sure changed my brain chemistry and which starred him as the protagonist! doesn't change the way I see him, he just exists, doing his thing, except now I'm more aware of the leafs narratives. (thanks cody!)

I can't really answer any of the rest of the questions because like. I really don't know this guy. sorry reuben. you (leafs fans) can keep him. I don't wanna get dragged into another rabbit hole.

connor mcdavid

(aka, ginger from chicken run.) the fun begins.

first impression: generally thought he was kind of bland? I was like. that's just a dude. like he's good at hockey, which is fun, but he seems to have the amount of personality (and structural integrity!) of a piece of wet cardboard. so I elected to ignore him. I didn't know what was to come.

impression now: hoooooooly shit. this man occupies every single one of my thoughts and I don't even remember how it happened. genuinely. something clicked in my brain and suddenly I was obsessed with him. ofc there's something to be said about like, this anxious teen with the weight of the world on his shoulders who grew quite awkwardly into his adult frame, but like, people have already said these things. there's the insane hockey plays, of course he's amazing and all that, but idk, maybe it's the anxiety that touched me? he's so anxious and he's still going and you can tell he worked on it, it's not perfect but it's better than before? like the growth? I don't know. I kinda love him. he's quiet. a little pathetic-looking. I got no explanation for this one

favourite moment: I listened to a podcast and he was saying that he always has to remind leon of just how good he is, and he's taken it upon himself to make leon see it, and you can tell he really does care about it (beyond just the game). and it's a small moment but I'm a big fan of bros supporting bros. keep it up king 👑💪

idea for a story: so I was sorta maybe not quite writing something... which may or may not involve hanahaki disease and mcdrai. and it mostly deals in guilt (that's the good stuff) but it's actually kind of leon draisaitl centric, because he's the one with the disease and he's the one struggling to see that he is loved and he is cared for and he feels guilty for dumping this on connor and it's mostly platonic but also kind of not and well. I have like my own version of hanahaki which I did tell one (1) beloved mutual about but the document has been untouched for exactly a week now and my brain has moved onto other things, so. (if you feel like reading some hanahaki may I recommend this one, it's mceichel, I enjoyed it a lot)

favourite relationship: my most beloved mental illness. mcdrai. (which I found really flavourless like a few weeks back. character growth!) there's something to be said about the our stories are linked and our names are tied together aspect of it, and how they've found each other, and leon would find me even if I was invisible and all that. something about connor always hyping up leon to the media, because he sees so much in him, and he's waiting for other people to see it too, but in the end they never will because connor is right there and connor is the best player in the league and it's always about connor. he'll always overshadow leon by being there. connor can try, he can try to be selfless (and how can you not be when you are this good, haven't you internalised by now that it's no fun if you take the whole stage for yourself?) and maybe he would like a break from the constant attention but he won't get it. something else; they are the centre of the whole oilers team. like, and I'm not an oilers fan but I think I can say this, the team would absolutely collapse without them. no question about it. maybe they would be fine with just one or just the other but they would definitely be missing their other half. (and I could talk about how they are BOTH anxious and they are maybe each other's support, but that's for another day because I don't think people have noticed how anxious leon actually is yet.) …you could say I've had a normal amount of thoughts about these two.

favourite headcanon: I'm electing not to answer this one because as you can see from my mcdrai paragraph there are a lot of things I have extrapolated from bits of interviews, body language and the like, also maybe a bit of projecting in there. let's be honest that I'm pretending to know a man that I don't. I'm not even an oilers fan. this is all headcanon.

if anyone actually read this far. hope you had fun. sorry.

#👍👍👍 #this was just 15 words short of a thousand! I'm normal about hockey men! #(the read more is there for obvious reasons. I am warning you. this is long and not entirely interesting) #mailbox

[rcsplendent]

for muses of your choice ! <3 🤡💋🥵⚖️💔✈️🦁🩰🚨😈🚫

answers under the cut bc i'm insufferable & added gifs to every single one. also i used a randomizer to pick who got each prompt so this was xtra chaotic !

🤡 ... a time where they felt guilt / embarrassment.

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐒𝐄𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐎𝐕 :  " guilt ? ... "  ( he's silent for a while, thinking. )   " i'm not sure. i — well. what i mean by that is there are too many to choose from. but, erm ... i suppose the first one that comes to mind is ... when i was a child, i used to pretend to be sick to get out of lessons. and, um. one day, i pretended to be ill so i would not have to do my mathematics lesson that day. but that meant my father was unoccupied for the morning, & so he made viktor do extra training. i ... think viktor must have trained for eighteen hours that day. and i wanted so badly to tell the truth so viktor could rest. but ... i knew the consequences for lying would be ... disastrous. so i never confessed. i think viktor collapsed from exhaustion. i felt awful. i still do. "

💋 ... their first ( or simply a very special ) kiss.

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀 :  " it's a funny story, actually ! i was sixteen, maybe. i spent most of my time at sea, but i had stayed home one summer to help my father with a construction project. he was building an orphanage. and there was this girl, angelica — her mother was supposed to run the orphanage, so she was helping out, taking care of the kids while it was being built. but she kept feeding these damn cats all around the build site. it drove me insane — we were already behind schedule, and the cats were really throwing a wrench in things. so i confronted her, you know — told her to cut it out or find somewhere else to take the strays. she called me a selfish pendejo & got up in my face. we were bickering, you know, going back & forth, and suddenly she just ... grabbed my face & planted one on me ! i was so shocked i didn't even react. she ran off & i went on with my day, & she avoided me for the rest of the summer. we didn't talk about it until we were older — she doesn't know why she did it, either. she's got a wife & four beautiful kids, now. good friend of mine. "

🥵 ... a sexual experience.

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐑 :  " i - i've never done anything like that. or, well ... "   ( he glances off to the side, thinking, before shaking his head quickly, his face bright red. )    " nevermind. that's all. "

⚖️ ... a time where they judged another person ( correctly or incorrectly ).

𝐘𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎 :  " the only time i ever make incorrect judgments is when i overestimate my opponents. i've got to stop doing that, honestly. i'm too kind. "

💔 ... a time where they experienced heartbreak.

𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍 :  " oh, well ... there was this girl, last summer. we were exchanging letters back & forth. i was always so excited to read hers, & she always wrote back so quickly, so i thought we were ... i don't know, honestly, what i was thinking. she stopped replying after a few months, & then i found out she'd gone & gotten married. she'd been betrothed the whole time. "  ( he smiles, albeit a bit sadly. )   " not a big deal. "

✈️ ... a time where they traveled to a foreign place.

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐑 :  " well, after i got booted from boarding school — unjustly, might i add — i went to france for a bit to study. some little all-boys school down in nice. lovely city, right on the water. the people there were kinder than the fucking assholes i was at school with in england. i spent most of my nights sneaking out to go to the beach — don't tell rhysand i said that. "

🦁 ... a time where they felt truly proud of themselves.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐈 :  " i went out with a hunting party a couple of weeks ago & took down this absolute beast of a stag with one arrow. kept the hide, but i had my men deliver the rest to a butcher in a village nearby. had it been smaller i might've had it preserved, but with this one ... it would've been a waste of resources. & god knows i'm not hurting for food. it's only right. "

🩰 ... a hobby / passion.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐀 :  " well, i haven't got a lot of time for hobbies ... but when i do have a rare evening to myself, i quite like making things. leatherwork, metalsmithing, woodworking. sometimes, when i'm on patrol, i'll pick up a branch if i see one that looks like it's got something interesting going on under the bark. that's not always the case, but sometimes i get a real gem of a thing, sturdy & strong. i'll whittle them into walking sticks or staffs, or i'll cut it into pieces and use the wood for knife handles. i make the blades, too. the general before me insisted i learn how to make the weapons i use to be able to fully appreciate them. he was right — i've taught theo the same thing. i've got a few blades i'm quite proud of. i don't use them in battle. couldn't bear to lose them. "

🚨 ... a time they got in big trouble.

𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐍 :  " yeah, yeah. everybody always wants to know about the times i've gotten caught. hate to break it to you, but it's all confidential information & i am not legally allowed to share. "  ( he rolls his eyes. )  " it's always because some fucking snitch got caught & squeaked because they thought it'd make them go easy. it never fucking works. "

😈 ... a time where they did something devious.

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 :  ( he smiles coyly. )  " i am a god-fearing man who's never done anything devious in his life. have some faith in me. "

🚫 ... a time where they experienced rejection.

𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐀𝐉𝐀𝐑 :   " i cannot think of a single time anybody has ever dared to tell me no. except my wife, perhaps. "

#x — ask memes. #i need 2 be detained

[mymelodyheart]

Save The Date Chapter 11 ~What’s Brewing Claire?~

picture credit

 Previously in Stramash ...

Jamie pulled back to look at her face and tipped her chin up to survey the cut on her lips. "He did this?"

She could only nod as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jamie turned the gun in his hand and marched towards the door, shouting at the police ushering Jack out to wait. Before Claire could scream for him to stop, he brought his forehead down on Jack's nose in a head butt before handing the weapon to a nearby officer. The sound of cartilage crunching echoed in the tiny room, making Claire wince. Jack fell onto his knees with a loud thud, holding his bleeding nose, shouting improprieties muffled by his hands.

"Now, that was uncalled for, Fraser," an officer clucked, but his grin and the amusement in his eyes implied he wasn't too bothered over Jack's injury. "Now go and get some rest. I'll handle the paperwork and delay the statement for tomorrow morning. You both have done enough to save the day."

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Jamie studied Claire. She lay relaxed on the examination table, going through her phone and reading messages. She looked untroubled and seemed to have recovered from the ordeal this past weekend. The only tell-tale sign left of that hellish night was the tiny scab on her lower lip and bruising on her right cheek where Jack Randall had struck her. She was whole and safe, and yet here he was, having trouble letting go of that incident.

When he'd helplessly watched Jack shoved a gun against her neck and dragged her away from his sight, he'd felt the full gravity of her vulnerability and his inadequacy to secure her safety. But how Claire had handled the situation was nothing short of mind-blowing, albeit heart-stopping. She'd kept her presence of mind, aptly keeping Geneva talking while the tech specialist monitored the audio listening device. The moment they'd identified the voice on the phone, the administration in Broadmoor had been immediately alerted to make sure Geneva didn't go anywhere until the police arrived.

Geneva and Jack were in jail now, awaiting trial and most likely would stay there for a very long time. He really needed to stop fixating on what could have gone wrong and focus on the matter at hand, like their baby's condition and Claire's health.

He puffed out a breath and sprung onto his feet. "Ye comfy, Sassenach?"

"I'm good," she replied, without looking up from her phone screen.

"Ye ken, we can cancel the baby reveal for another day."

"I know, but I prepared so much food already."

They were having his family and closest friends over for afternoon tea to share the news of their baby. Claire had insisted on a celebration to invalidate the ordeal Geneva had put them through, determined not to allow recent events to cast a shadow over their upcoming nuptials. Jamie had thought it was too soon, but Claire had pressed that the sooner they moved forward from the incident, the better. 

So last night, she'd spent the entire evening preparing shortcrust pastries, scones batter and making Victorian sponge cake. Apparently, she'd taken some lessons in baking and cooking from Mrs Fitz so that she could host parties like Jenny and his ma. It was as if her work, all the travelling she'd been doing, preparing for the wedding and recovering from trauma wasn't enough. She also needed to put up a brave front.

Though the doctor had given Claire an all-clear in London after a routine checkup, Jamie had insisted on another examination when she'd complain of spotting last night. He hadn't a clue what that had meant, but the concerned look on her face was enough for him to push her for another doctor's appointment. To his relief, she'd hardly put up a fight, and he'd immediately arranged a consultation with a private practice to speed things along since the NHS hospitals were notorious for long waits.

"I just want ye to be certain, Sassenach. That's all. I dinnae want this tea party putting a strain on ye."

Claire put her phone down and glanced up at him. "I'm pregnant, Jamie, not incapacitated. I know you're worried about the spotting, but I'm quite certain pregnant women gets them sometimes. I don't feel ill, but here we are, taking precautions."

Sighing, he moved to her side and took her hand in his. "It's just that I'm bothered about that bruise behind yer back. It looks vicious. I ken bruising looks a lot worse than it is, but I cannae help but wonder if the baby has been harmed when ye banged yer behind on those shelving units after Jack pushed ye. I'm concerned about any delayed complications. Or if the doctor in London overlooked something."

She squeezed his hand. "Your worries are valid, Jamie. The odds of miscarriage or complications might be highest in the first trimester, but I haven't had any issues." She shrugged. "Oh, well, except for the tiny spotting last night. I'm sure everything's fine. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done, Jamie thought. How could Claire sit there looking so calm?  Now that she's pregnant, the world was suddenly full of threats: unpasteurised juice and dairy, soft cheeses that she loved so much, fish high in mercury, saunas and hot tubs, secondhand smoke, changing Adso's litterbox. Not to mention aunt Jocasta's bloody stories of baby-abducting fairies. He really needed to stop reading too much pregnancy information; otherwise, he'd go insane.

Claire gave him a look that said she could tell he was overthinking things.

He promptly kissed her on the lips. "Aye, I guess ye're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry for over-reacting."

The door suddenly opened, and in walked a friendly-looking middle-aged female doctor. "Hello, Claire! Dr Fiona Innes. How are we feeling today?"

"I'm good, just a bit nervous about the spotting," Claire breathed. 

"Understandably." Then the doctor turned to Jamie. "And ye're..."

"James Fraser. The one who got her up the duff," he replied, taking the doctor's outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. 

"Jamie!" Claire gasped, her face crimsoning profusely.

The doctor laughed. "Hah! I like that! A good sense of humour will get ye through anything." She dragged the ultrasound monitor closer to the exam table and pulled up a stool. "So, let's get started so we can put both yer mind at ease, shall we?" She proceeded to put gloves on and prepare the probe that Jamie had the unfortunate luck of knowing already what it was for. "Now, Claire, I want ye to lie back and place yer feet in the stirrups." 

Claire did as she was told while Jamie helped her ease down. He winced when he heard the sound of latex snapping over the probe. He looked away and took Claire's hand in his.

"Is this your first ultrasound visit, Mr Fraser?"

He glanced over his shoulder, thinking the doctor must have noticed the strain on his face. "Aye and no."

Dr Innes arched an eyebrow.

Jamie pointed at the probe and tried not to grimace. "I've seen a doctor used that thing on her when she was hospitalised a few weeks ago. I hadn't known what was going on then, so I walked away and let them get on with it."

"I see." The doctor refocused her attention back to Claire. "Now relax for me and big deep breaths," Dr Innes advised as she put lubricating gel on the blunt tip of the probe. "This will be a tad bit uncomfortable."

Claire shut her eyes and took a deep breath while Jamie whispered all sorts of nonsense in her ear. When her grip clenched into a tight vice, he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

A few seconds passed, and that's when he heard it. He stilled. It was loud, clear and steady. The unmistakable sound of a heartbeat coming from the monitor. It was their baby's. He let out a sharp exhale, realising he'd discovered something powerful in the tiny, vulnerable life form growing in Claire's womb.

His ma once said that the heartbeat was the first music that a child heard and that every bairn was born knowing the rhythm of their mother's song. To Jamie, this was the sound of their child's soul, the unspoken words already speaking volumes. It was as if it was saying, I'm alive and well, can you hear me?

"Weel, that sounds like a strong and healthy heartbeat there," Dr Innes remarked. "See right there?" Jamie and Claire stirred in their positions to take a better look at where the doctor was pointing. "That's yer baby."

Releasing Claire's hand, Jamie stepped closer to the monitor and tipped his head to the side, adjusting his eyes to discern the grainy image on the monitor. When he finally figured out the shape, mixed emotions began to bombard him in all directions. He felt the complexity of love at seeing a piece of himself and Claire on the screen, inspiring fierce protective instinct to kindle within him. Words like elation, joy and sobering responsibility were too meagre terms and did not give justice in describing how visceral all his emotions were.

"T-that ..." Jamie pointed an index finger at the image, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Is that a ..."

"It's not what ye think, Mr Fraser. That's the foot," Dr Innes responded briskly. She shifted the probe at a different angle to capture another image. "As far as I can see, everything seems to be in perfect working order. I can safely say ye have a healthy, strong baby, so ye can both rest easy."

Jamie continued to stare at the monitor, still trying to wrap the idea of impending fatherhood around his head. "The baby is no' missing any parts, is it?"

"The baby has everything it should have at this stage of the pregnancy," the doctor replied, amused. "Though I think we'll need another few weeks to be able to tell the gender."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Claire said gratefully, pushing herself upright. "We were worried about the spotting and thought it might have had to do with the stress and trauma of what happened last weekend. It was mad, really. I nearly got abducted and had a gun pointed at me."

The doctor threw the probe's latex into the waste and began peeling off her gloves, seemingly unaffected by what Claire had just revealed, making Jamie think physicians were used to hearing such stories. The doctor gave them both an understanding look. "Having a gun pointed at ye is quite jarring, so I understand why ye're both concerned. So how are ye coping mentally?" 

"I try not to dwell on it and carry on as usual," Claire shrugged. "So far, I'm dealing with it fine."

The doctor looked at Claire curiously, her expression full of empathy. "Sometimes ignoring it isn't as cut and dried as you think. Try and get some counselling. Ye're going to deal enough with all the hormones impacting yer physiological, physical and mental well being. This is the time to be enjoying this exciting time in yer life, so counselling is just taking a precautionary step to ensure you are in a good place and prepared for what the next few months will throw at ye."

Jamie locked eyes with Claire, and a silent agreement passed between them. They both understood the impact of a traumatising experience, and he wanted to take the doctor's advice on board. 

"I'll make sure she and the baby are well taken care of," he reassured the doctor, patting Claire's thigh.

"I'm sure ye will," the doctor smiled, pressing buttons on the monitor.

"Let's just hope he won't go over the top," Claire added. "He has a tendency to do that."

The doctor pulled out copies of ultrasound images from the printer and glanced up at Jamie. "I can understand the need to protect, but just bear in mind, us women are more resilient and stronger than we look," she pointed out. "And pregnant women aren't as frail as society perceives them to be."

Jamie laughed. "There's no question about that. After all, my wife-to-be here achieved what twenty-four specialist firearms officers could not."

"Oh?" Dr Innes looked surprised. "And what was that?"

"She single-handedly took down a maximum-security prisoner escapee, helped led the police to his psychopathic accomplice and in the process saved an innocent mistakenly imprisoned," Jamie explained. "I ken it was a foolish move with her being pregnant and all ..."

"It might have been foolish, but I happen to believe Claire's response is inherent in all mothers and mothers-to-be, and it's something almost impossible for the human brain to override." 

"Och, aye?"

"It's called maternal instinct, Mr Fraser, and it's as old as life itself." Dr Innes got up and handed him an envelope containing the ultrasound images. "So woe to anyone who dares a mother-to-be or new mother harm because they're utterly more ferocious than any man wielding a gun when it comes to defending their nest." She looked between him and Claire and smiled. "Anyway, congratulations to you both on your coming parenthood." Then she faced Jamie and patted him on the shoulder. "And as for ye, congratulations on yer newly acquired bodyguard. Ye can sleep well tonight." 

..........

Jamie walked in and placed the last of their shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. "Is there anything else ye need, Sassenach, before I go?"

Claire felt him approach and busied herself, placing apples in a large bowl and then lemons in another. "Umm ...I think I have everything I need." She felt his eyes boring into her back but tried her best not to get distracted. "Shall I make a sandwich to take with you?"

"No, I'm no' hungry."

"Oh, alright ...I guess I shall see you later then."

"I have a few minutes to spare. Want to talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"What ye're feeling. Ye haven't said much all morning ...since we left the clinic. And ye hardly talked to me while we went food shopping."

She took out a knife and honing steel from a drawer and went through the motion of sharpening the blade. "Oh ...I guess I must have been preoccupied with my mental to-do list. That's all."

A long silence ensued, and after what felt like an eternity, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Sassenach, can ye stop what ye're doing for a minute and look at me?"

Hot tears suddenly settled behind her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back and breathed deeply, swallowing down conflicting emotions and refusing to let them fall. She didn't want to be the type of woman who cried at the littlest and inconsequential thing. She'd never been a crier before, and she wasn't about to become one if she could help it.

"I'm busy, Jamie."

"Please."

Bracing herself, she placed down her utensils and faced him. "What is it?"

"This ..." Jamie waved his hand at the shopping bags on the counter. "I ken what this is. Ye havenae sat still ever since we came back from our trip. Ye've decluttered our bedroom and cleaned out all the kitchen cupboards. And now an afternoon tea party? I ken what ye're doing. Ye're keeping yersel' busy to forget what happened in London instead of talking about it."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not that."

Jamie impatiently rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Weel, what is up with ye then?"

"Hormones."

"Hormones," Jamie echoed. "Why did you no' just say so?"

She felt her face heat up. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't know it at the time. Or perhaps, because it all seems so silly that I'm getting all worked up for nothing."

Jamie stepped closer and braced her cheeks with both hands, a calloused thumb tenderly swiping her lower lip. "Listen to me very carefully. Whatever ye're feeling or going through, hormonal or not, is never silly. Everything ye have to say is important to me. Trust me on that. I always want to know if something is bothering ye and be able to help ye fix it. Yer body is going through many changes, and it's normal yer emotions are all over the place. So no more self-deprecating thoughts about yer feelings. Am I making myself clear?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, tamping down the urge to cry.

"Very well then, tell me what's going through that mind of yers. At least we can clear the air between us before I go, and my whole family comes and start noticing that something isnae right. Today is supposed to be a celebration of our baby. I dinnae want anything to ruin this day in as much as I think we should delay this for another time."

"Fine." She shut her eyes to search for the right words, but no matter how she formulated them in her head, it didn't sound right. Saying it out loud would only make her appear pathetic. But there was no way around it once Jamie set his mind in extracting something from her. 

"Sassenach?"

Her eyes flew open. "Yes?"

"Yer face is getting redder by the second. I'm beginning to worry."

"Very well, if you must know ..." She blew out a breath. "You haven't touched me since that night in London, that's what," she blurted out. "I feel like you're avoiding me. Every time it was time for us to go to bed, you always had some excuse, like you haven't walked the dog or you need to check the emails." Unable to hold it back any longer, she suddenly burst out crying. "I know it's hormones talking, and I'm acting silly. But I can't help but feel the way I feel because I'm hormonal and horny. That's why I'm keeping myself busy, so I will not overthink things. Because if I did, I'd start believing you don't want me anymore, even if logic says it's not true. Happy now?"

He blinked rapidly as if his brain was short-circuiting. 

"Yeah, just the reaction I knew I was going to get. See what I mean when I said I was acting silly?"

"No," he groaned out loud. "Sweet baby Jesus! Ye cannae say things like horny  when I have to go."

Claire slapped Jamie on the chest. "Jamie! You wanted to know what was wrong! Now that I've said it, you can't blame me for it!"

"Cancel the tea party, and I'll tell Willie I'll be late!"

"No!"

"Why no'?"

"Because!"

With a deep groan, he grabbed her neck from behind and gave her a hard kiss. There was nothing tender or playful about it, just a desperate act of trying to get his fill. He let out a frustrated moan as his tongue swept in her mouth, and a hand cupped her breast, his arousal hard and thick against her belly, letting her know how much he wanted her. When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air. He pressed their foreheads together, breathing harshly into her face. "How could ye think, even in yer hormonal state, I dinnae want ye any more? Damn it, Sassenach, I've been aching for ye these past few days."

"Then why didn't you touch me?" 

He shook his head as he attempted to even his breath. "That night in London, after I took ye back to the hotel, I wanted to bury myself deep inside ye so I could remind myself that ye're really alive and back in my arms. But when I saw that bruising behind yer back and knowing what ye've just been through in yer pregnant state, I thought if I took ye right there and then, I might cause ye irreparable damage, physically and psychologically. I wanted to make sure ye're properly healed first and that our baby was safe. God, all those nights I was away from our bed, I've been doing push-ups to release all those pent-up frustrations of not being able to make love to ye."

"So you did want me all along ..."

He tapped her nose. "Aye, ye silly goose."

"Oh Jamie," she sighed. "You still don't get it, do you?" She placed a hand against his face and smiled for the first time that morning. 

"Get what?" he asked, looking suddenly confused.

"You should know by now, lovemaking is the best stress reliever. I thought you knew that." 

"Weel ..."

"Remember the times when you were all worked up and conflicted, and how much better you felt after sex?" When he nodded, she pressed on. "Whenever you and I have sex, whether it's fast, hard, long or a quickie, it always came from a place of love. And we've talked about this before ...love heals. The most wonderful thing about our lovemaking, it puts us in that intimate space where we can better connect, heal, open us to those hard conversations, helping us in the process to find closure and release. If sex worked for you to ease your stress, why should it be any different for me? I needed you most after that horrendous night, Jamie. I needed your body to ground me. But I understand now why you didn't touch me that night."

Jamie stared at the ceiling and sighed before looking at her with a mixture of wonderment and torment. He let out a pained laugh. "Weel, right now, I'm under a lot of stress and pressure." He took her hand and placed it on his bulging arousal to make a point. "How about we continue this in the bedroom and let off some steam? I'm stressed, and ye're horny. Ideal combo! Ye can use my body anyway ye want."

Claire clucked her tongue and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Oh, no, you don't, you sneaky, Scot! You're running late as it is." She placed both hands on his chest and began pushing him out of the kitchen. "How about you let me get on with food preparation, and you finish what you need to do so you can come home as soon as you can in time for the tea party?" she proposed.

"How about my stress levels?" he grumbled.

"Your stress levels are fine!" She turned him around and smacked him on the bum. "Now go. Mrs Fitz will be here any minute to bring the Battenberg cake I ordered."

At the mention of Mrs Fitz, Jamie didn't need any more prodding. He gave her another quick kiss and left the cottage, muttering something about getting a new house before slamming the door behind him.

..........

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed by quick, and something in Claire lightened even though she was a nervous wreck hosting her first traditional English tea party.

She looked at the kitchen counter laden with several tiered plates displaying the delicacies she'd meticulously prepared. She was ready, and everything looked perfect. 

She'd made four different tea sandwiches to be on the safe side: pear and stilton, cucumber and cream cheese, egg salad, and smoked salmon and dill. And then there were scones, lemon curd tartlets, fruit tarts, and shortbread and Linzer cookies she was looking forward to gorge on. On the other end of the counter were Mrs Fitz's Battenberg cake and Claire's pièce de résistance, Victoria's sponge filled with jam, berries and double cream. Her teabox was neatly packed with Darjeeling, Earl Grey, and Assam, and the pitchers of lavender and elderflower lemonade were cooling nicely in the fridge. 

Perfection!

She was about to wash the sink when she heard a rap on the window. She looked up and saw Jenny waving at her. Letting her in through the kitchen back door, she was surprised to see her carrying a stack of real estate pamphlets and magazines with its pages tabbed with colourful sticky notes.

"Jen! What's all that?"

Jenny shrugged. "Weel, after what happened to ye in London and with everything going on at the moment, I thought I'd make yer life easier." She plonked down her load on a nearby stool and picked up a magazine, leafing through the pages. "I heard from Willie ye and Jamie are looking for a bigger place. So I decided to grab all these. It has listings of every available property for sale in the surrounding area. Ma and I saved the pages we thought ye and Jamie might like."

"Oh, Jen!" Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Jenny waved a hand. "Think nothing of it!"

Feeling emotional, Claire gave Jenny a big hug. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much." When she finally broke away from their embrace, she noticed deep furrows on Jenny's forehead. "Jen? What's wrong?"

Jenny's usually brilliant blue eyes suddenly looked serious as they landed on the bruising on her cheek. "Does that still hurt?" 

Claire touched her cheek. "Oh, this? No, not at all. It looks worse than it is. Poor Jamie getting all these weird looks when we're out and about. He was even accused by some granny of being an abuser. I can understand why but I had to step in and explain to the old dear."

Jenny wrung her hands and gave her a small smile. "Actually, I -I came early because I wanted to talk with ye. Just us two."

"Oh, do you want a drink first?" Claire offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the fridge. "I have some lemonade ..."

"No! Please! I need to get this out before anything else."

Claire nodded. "Alright then, I'm all ears."

"I-I want to apologise for ..." Jenny's chin crumpled, seemingly attempting to blink back her tears. " ...for what happened to ye in London."

"Wot? Oh, Jen! Why are you apologising? That wasn't your fault."

Jenny raised a hand, which told Claire to let her talk. "It was in some ways my fault, Claire. Geneva was my friend, and I tried to push Jamie and her together. I shouldn't have told her last year there was a vacancy in the village, and then she wouldn't have come back and pursued her interest in my brother. I honestly had no idea she was capable of such horrid deeds. If I'd known, I wouldn't have taken her into my circle of friends and family."

Claire shook her head. "No one could have known, and no one knew. Even her work colleagues and peers were shocked when they found out what she's done. She's a master manipulator, Jen, and she probably manipulated you too under the guise of friendship."

"Still ..." Jenny insisted. "If it wasn't for my meddling ..."

"Stop right there!" Claire wagged a finger at Jenny. "We've locked horns on the subject before and moved on from that already. Alright? Past is past. We all make mistakes. The most important thing is we learn from it. So no more mention of Geneva."

This time Jenny's smile reached her eyes. "Fine! Just dinnae tell Jamie we talked about this."

"Whyever not?"

"Jamie has given everyone in the family strict orders, not to mention about London today."

"Really?"

Jenny nodded. "He didn't want to ruin today's celebration rehashing what happened. Unfortunately, I had to in order for me to apologise, but enough of that now." She clapped her hands. "So, how about that drink. I'm parched." She whirled around and stopped, her eyes widening when she saw the spread Claire had prepared. Walking over to the kitchen counter, she took in everything with a smile. "Goodness, did ye make all these?"

Claire smiled with pride. "I did. Except for the Battenberg cake. Mrs Fitz made it."

"Ye said, ye didnae know how to bake," Jenny said almost begrudgingly. 

"Now I do, thanks to the wifey Bootcamp I attended, also known as Mrs Fitz's kitchen."

"These all look scrumptious. It's been ages since I had a proper English afternoon tea." Jenny glanced up at her and grinned. "So, what are we celebrating?"

Claire nearly blurted out the baby news, but she quickly caught herself. Sliding an arm around her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she walked Jenny to the end of the counter to show her the sponge cake. "Today, we're celebrating love, friends and family."

Jenny poked a finger into the clotted cream and licked. "I like the sound of that. That'll always be a perfect excuse for a celebration or a proper afternoon tea party."

Claire smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Jen. I couldn't agree more."

..........

Jamie came home from work and noticed all the sandwiches, tarts and cakes laid out on the kitchen counter. He was mildly astonished that Claire had been able to prepare so much in the nick of time. He glanced out the window and spied her and Jenny in the garden, busily arranging tablecloths on the long wooden table. Looking at his watch, he realised he had about fifteen minutes to get ready before their friends and family started arriving. 

But first things first.

Stepping out into the backyard, he snuck behind Claire and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. "Mmm, ye smell of berries, lemon and lavender," he whispered, running his lips on her bare skin and ignoring Jenny's mumbling about getting a room.

Claire turned in his hold and smiled up at him. "And you reek, mister. You won't be served tea smelling like that."

"Fancy a shower with me then?" he suggested, feeling mischievous. "Jen's here to look out for guests."

"Nice try, but I had a shower already, and Jen is our guest today." 

He leaned down and nibbled her earlobe, making her squeal.

"Jamie, you're going to get my dress dirty. Oh, fiddlesticks ..." She suddenly stilled mid-laughter and made a face, her hand covering her nose. "Urgh ...what's that smell?"

Jamie let her go and took a whiff of his shirt. "Oh, it's just a bit of wood stain I was working with. It'll come off in a wash."

Her face suddenly turned pale. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. Tell Jen I'll be right back ...and you ...you go have a shower before your parents arrive." With that, she spun around and ran back to the cottage.

Stunned, he watched her disappearing form and whistled under his breath. "What just happened?" he muttered, even though he knew the answer had to do with the dreaded pregnancy sickness. She'd been doing so well so far he almost thought morning sickness was nothing but a myth, even though Claire had revealed, she couldn't stand the smell of aniseed, star anise, fennel, and liquorice.

"Maybe, she's pregnant and suffering from sickness?" Jenny replied, walking past him with an armful of wildflowers to put into the empty vases dotted on the wooden table.

He hadn't realised Jenny had returned from wherever she'd disappeared to. He needed to be careful not to reveal their baby news too soon, or the surprise would be ruined. Jenny was simply someone who couldn't keep a secret. 

"Ach, I should have known chemical smells always make her nauseous," he explained, not wanting to give too much away to his perceptive sister.

Jenny twitched her lips from side to side as she trimmed the bouquet's stems with pruning shears. "Aye, that will be right!" she smirked.

He glared at his sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged and gave him a knowing look. "Nothing! Now go have a shower, and I'll take care of things here until Claire feels better."

Jamie was about to say more when he heard the sound of a car parking in the driveway. As Jenny made a move to take a look, he quickly made a beeline back to the cottage before anyone saw him, hoping Claire had already recovered from her bout of sickness.

..........

Jamie leaned back on his chair and glanced around. It was a perfect summer late afternoon, and everyone seemed to be having a great time and enjoying the food Claire had prepared. The sun warmed his face and bathed the garden in dazzling light, making the different shades of green and the profusion of wildflowers more vibrant and alive. The chatter was lively, and funnily enough, no one complained about the lack of alcohol which was highly unusual for a gathering in Scotland. But, he suspected his godfather must have a flask of whisky or something similar tucked away somewhere as he was getting louder and more boisterous as time went by.

He took Claire's hand in his, and she turned his way and smiled. Her face looked pale, but there was an aura of tranquillity radiating from her that told him she was happy and content. Though her plate was full of food, it remained untouched, and if anyone had noticed, no one said anything. "How are ye feeling, Sassenach?"

She took a huge deep breath, held it in for a few seconds and then relaxed. "I'm fine," she sighed. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

He knew she was valiantly fighting back the sickness that must be creating havoc in her body but was too stubborn to give in to it. "Shall we tell them about the surprise so you can finally have a rest?" he suggested in a low voice, so no one would hear. "It cannae be comfortable sitting here when ye feel so unwell."

She shook her head as she gulped in more air. "I want to wait for uncle Lamb. He'll be here soon."

Quentin's plane from Athens should have arrived four hours ago but was delayed because of some mechanical issues. Jamie hoped for Claire's sake Quentin was on his way and wasn't dilly-dallying somewhere, like planning a grand entrance. Jamie kissed her cheek, hoping to sweet talk her to giving up this charade of wellness. "I'm pretty sure ye're uncle will understand once he finds out about yer condition."

"I know," Claire murmured. "But I want today to be perfect and complete. I want to see uncle Lamb's face when we announce it."

"But it's already perfect."

"Not without uncle Lamb."

Jamie prayed for patience and tamped down the urge to haul this beautiful but infuriating woman in his arms and carry her to bed. He squeezed her hand and yielded to her request, knowing this get-together was important to her. "Whatever ye say, Sassenach. Just let me know if ye need anything."

"I will," she replied between sharp intakes of breath.

Jamie decided not to press anymore. He knew this was one battle he couldn't win without creating a scene in front of their friends and family. But if Claire thought she was pulling this act off, Jamie was convinced, his perceptive family had already caught on with what was passing. Claire was a terrible actress, and she couldn't even lie to save her life.

Fortunately, their intimate tea party was animated and loud, and it diverted the attention from Claire. Directly opposite them, Tom and Willie were discussing the merits of owning a mini campervan for spontaneous weekend trips around the Highlands. On one end of the table, Murtagh passionately ranted and raved to Brian and uncle Duncan about the Tories and how SNP was the solution to Scotland's political future. Next to Claire, Annalise showed Ellen and aunt Jocasta how to work the Instagram app while Jenny, Mary and Geillis cackled over some celebrity gossip they've probably read somewhere. Grannie Annie had meanwhile fallen asleep in her seat with Adso in her lap and Rollo at her feet. At the far end of the garden, Finlay, Geillis' boyfriend and Ian were having a go at playing badminton but kept hitting the shuttlecock over the hedge to both their frustration. 

Though Jamie was happy the tea party had gone as planned, he couldn't relax, too worried about Claire predicament. If it got to the stage where Claire lost any more colour to her face, he was sure no one would be able to blame him for whatever course of action he would take next.

"Right, does anyone want some fresh cuppa?" Claire suddenly announced, getting up from her seat.

Annalise immediately jumped to her feet. "I can do that."

Willie got up too. "I'll put the kettle on."

"I'll clear up the empty dishes," Geillis offered, already grabbing an empty tiered plate stand. "We dinnae want this stunning antique piece being knocked over, now do we?"

Ellen reached over to Claire from her seat and patted her hand. "Everything was lovely, dear. I couldnae decide which was my favourite. And that lavender lemonade was refreshing."

"Aye," Murtagh piped in as he got up and sat directly opposite Claire. "I bet it will taste even better with gin or vodka."

Brian frowned at Murtagh. "The lavender lemonade tastes good as it is. There's nae need to spoil it with alcohol. Besides, it's good for ye to give yer poor liver a wee break. If ye're no' careful, yer gene pool will soon have a swim-up bar."

"I dinnae drink that much," Murtagh grumbled. 

"Aye ye do," Aunt Jocasta pointed out. "Dinnae think for one minute I didnae notice ye've been spiking yer tea."

Before Murtagh could retort, Geillis came back in time with a steaming mug and placed it in front of Claire.

"Ooh, what's this?" Claire asked, looking into her drink.

"It's ginger and turmeric tea," Geillis declared. "It's good for ye. I brought it with me from Glasgow. It's organic, and thought ye might like it."

Jamie couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew ginger tea or any form of ginger were effective in reducing nausea. Claire probably knew too because her eyes lit up and gave Geillis an appreciative nod. If he wasn't a hundred per cent certain earlier, everyone knew about Claire's condition, now he's more convinced than ever they were playing along. Jamie appreciated the gesture, but this had gone on too far. Where the bloody hell is Quentin?

"I'm back!" boomed a voice, waking grannie Annie up. It was as if Jamie's thoughts had conjured Claire's uncle from thin air, and there he was making a grand entrance as Jamie had expected. "I hope there are some leftovers. I'm famished."

Claire laughed, twisting around on her seat to watch her uncle approaching. Ellen got up and started plating some food for Quentin.

"There's plenty of leftovers," Annalise assured as she placed another platter of sandwiches on the table. "Claire made enough for the entire village."

Quentin gave Claire a quick kiss on the forehead before greeting the rest of the party, who'd gathered back around the table. "Sorry for the delay," he apologised, finally taking a seat next to Claire. "Our plane was stuck on the tarmac without any air conditioning. We had no choice but to sit there and stew in the heat while the engineers fixed the plane."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," Claire said, looking adoringly at her uncle. 

Quentin stared at the bruising on her cheek. "I don't like the look of that. It looks ..."

Sounds of several throats clearing ensued, a signal to Quentin not to pursue the London topic any further.

"Very well," Quentin nodded in understanding. "I'm glad too that I'm here."

Claire smiled. "Alrighty, so now that everyone's here, Jamie and I have an announcement to ..."

"Hold that thought, sweetheart," Quentin interrupted as he bent down to retrieve the holdall he'd placed at his feet. "I brought a souvenir."

Jamie bit his tongue at the interruption.  

"I hope it's not another ceramic plate," Claire groaned, unaware of Jamie's frustration.

"No. I got something better." Quentin waggled his bushy eyebrows as he unzipped his bag and proceeded to rummage through its contents. "Wait for it! Wait for it!" Suddenly he yanked out a bottle and held it up for everyone to see. "I got Ouzo!" he announced with satisfaction.

"Yesss, ya beauty!" Murtagh cheered happily, banging a hand on the table. "I love Ouzo."

Aunt Jocasta scowled at Murtagh. "Ye like anything alcoholic. Ye'll drink Listerine if it was placed in front of ye."

"What's Ouzo?" Claire asked as she stared curiously at the offering. "I mean, I've heard of it before, but I've forgotten what it is."

Jamie was about to fill in the information and tell her she wouldn't be able to stand the smell of it when Quentin expertly uncapped the bottle and held it under Claire's nose. Oblivious to Jamie's hitch of breath, Claire pressed her nose closer to the opening of the bottle to take a better whiff. Ah, shite!

"It's an anise flavoured liquor," Quentin described. "Mostly served as an aperitif in Greece.."

Jamie watched in awe as Claire's head jerked back and her face contorted when her senses registered the smell, and a low, gurgling sound came from deep down in her belly. He winced, half expecting any moment now a horrific scene of projectile vomiting, and the recipient would be none other than his godfather sat opposite her. But Claire jumped to her feet, startling everyone, and her hand immediately clapped over her mouth, golden eyes bright and tearing up. Quick thinking Jenny, grabbed a sprig of mint she'd put in the vase, macerated it in her hands and offered it to Claire. Everyone gasped and watched in fascination as Claire took the green leaves and stuffed her mouth with them, and began to chew, jaws working overtime, reminding Jamie of a cow feeding in the fields. Nobody said a word, waiting for the next scene to unfold or for someone to offer an explanation.

Swallowing audibly, Claire finally untensed and slumped back down to a loud hearty burp. And as if nothing had happened, she calmly drank a good measure of her ginger tea, put the mug down and then smiled. "Sorry about that. So where were we again?"

Eyes bulging almost out of his head, Quentin sputtered before he managed to string a coherent sentence together. "W-What the bloody hell was that? Was that some kind of weird side effects from what happened in London that I have no idea of?"

Claire looked at Jamie, looking suddenly exhausted. "Can you please tell them?"

"Tell me what?" Quentin bristled.

Jamie dropped his head on his folded arms resting on the table and allowed it to bounce once. Twice. Thrice. God must have taken pity of him because when he glanced up, everyone shouted in chorus. "Claire and Jamie are having a baby!"

   Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the response and feedback I received for my previous chapter. I know it got a bit crazy; therefore, today's update is more subdued to allow everyone's breathing to go back to normal.  Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it for you.

Anyway, I hope you're all keeping safe and taking care of yourself and mostly taking the time to enjoy the last days of summer. Keep up the good vibes and be well. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #savethedate #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

[kim-ruzek]

life's strange sense of humour

Summary: Kim, Hailey, Sylvie and Stella all conceive their babies around the same time... Then also go into labour on the same day. Pure Crack, but taken seriously because this is me.

Or; a love letter to the upgess friendship because they went funny fic? Nah, we're gonna make it wholesome.

Warnings: Childbirth, I guess.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Notes: So. I had this funny thought months ago, recently talked about it with Cíara when they mentioned something similar and I'm having Thoughts about how I want the upgess friendship to go so apparently my mind went yes, write this, please.

Also Cíara: it's not the child number we decided and not the exact circumstances but I couldn't help but make burzek's conception happen this way 👀

Life, Kim has learned, can have a strange sense of humour sometimes.

This, she thinks to herself as her and Hailey stare, open mouthed, speechless, shocked at each other, is definitely one of those times.

“I... What?.. I,” Hailey stumbles out, her eyes wide, Kim staring back with equally wide eyes, watching as the blonde tries to process this, tries to process how they even happened—all while wondering herself what the chances of this happening are, that this can only be because life has a strange taste in what’s funny.

“This—this isn’t right, right? Kim, right?” Hailey almost looks desperate at her, glancing down at the stick in her hand and back up at Kim frantically, her eyes darting as she does so, gliding over the pink positive line like if she doesn’t focus on it, it won’t be there.

“Well, I kinda hope it is,” Kim lets out a dry kind of laugh as she answers, glancing at her own stick, with a matching pink line. “Since we brought these together and I—I want to be pregnant.”

The panic lessens briefly in Hailey’s eyes, her friend smiling again at Kim’s own shock. “Right, yeah. And you want to be pregnant—so no more freaking out, yeah?”

Hailey grabs Kim’s hand with her spare one, giving it a supportive squeeze. “No more freaking out, this is good.”

Kim smiles back at her friend, the hand holding her stick drifting over her flat stomach. Her earlier worries—about if she can do this, if she could handle being pregnant again—still clinging to her but not making her feel as sick, the joy and excitement at being pregnant, at having Adam’s baby in her again, flooding her stronger. She repeats her friend’s words in her mind; this is good.

“But like—yours could be right, and mine wrong? Right? Like that could happen? I mean— people get false positives. This, mine, it could be false?” Hailey has gone back to freaking out. Kim places her stick down so that she can run her hands down the blonde’s arms, calming her.

“Hailey, breathe. Everything is okay.” Kim pauses, letting Hailey breathe in and out before continuing. “It could be a false positive—it could also be real. But it’s okay, it’s not a crisis if it is real. Have you and Jay discussed kids?”

Hailey smiles momentarily at the mention of her husband, her hand twisting the wedding ring on her finger before answering Kim. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course we have. A few times—before we were even together, even. Not that we were planning it together—well, not out loud—”

“Hailey.” Kim cuts off her rambling. There’s not many times that the blonde rambles, even when she’s panicking, she keeps a—seemingly—calm head. But when she does, she can really start to spiral.

“Sorry.” Hailey stops, running a hand through her hair, the other still clinging to the stick, almost as if she can’t put it down, like the thought is something incredibly out there and impossible.

“What have you discussed? Do you two want kids?” Kim gently probes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Another short-lived smile. “But not—not now. It’s still, it’s something in the future. And we still weren’t fully decided if we’d do it this way, like I always wanted to adopt but I know, I know it’s not a walk in the park and we’ve been talking. I’ve been wondering if it was just because of the fear of my genes and I. We agreed we’ll leave it for a bit, but that’s gone out the window.”

Hailey pauses, running her hand through her hair again, before groaning. “Kim, tell me, what should I do?”

Kim gently holds both of her hands, closing Hailey’s fist around the stick. “You talk to Jay.”

That seems to calm the blonde, Hailey getting a soft smile on her face—the face Kim has dubbed her Jay smile. “Yeah. I talk to Jay.”

“Okay. Can we leave now—I think if we’re any longer Adam might just walk in. You know he has no patience,” Kim looks at Hailey’s expression carefully, noting every part of it, making sure that her friend is good enough to get through the rest of the day.

“Yeah. Yes.” Hailey nods, pulling Kim into a hug. “Thanks, Kim. And congratulations, again. This is really great.”

Kim squeezes her back, looking forward to when she might—maybe—be able to say it back to Hailey.

The day had started with Kim throwing up in the toilet. She had been feeling nauseous for a few days, going in waves, and that feeling—that thought that it might be because she’s pregnant and not because it’s flu season—had been in the back of her mind.

She had tried not to focus on that thought too much, not wanting to go down that path, not when it could just be a bug. Not wanting to give herself hope, only to get it taken from her.

Kim had rationalised it, even the throwing up. It was a minute amount, nothing compared to when she was pregnant the first time. Adam had a food related bug the other day, so this could just be that, Kim had told herself. Things tend to hit her a bit slower, after all.

And then there’s that Sylvie has a stomach bug—one that’s kept her in bed all week, texting Kim often to complain when Matt is on shift. And Kim had hung out with Sylvie the day before she fell ill. This, Kim told herself, is probably just it affecting her, now, too.

This day was the first time she threw up, and so was the first time she told Adam she’s been feeling nauseous. His reaction was exactly how she predicted it would be.

He had lifted an eyebrow, pausing as he sipped his coffee. “Are you... Do you think..?”

Adam had asked it very casually, his expression neutral. Like her, he was unable to say the words, finish the sentence, neither one of them wanting to voice the possibility, not wanting to voice it in case it’s not, not wanting the hurt associated with false hope.

“I don’t know. It’s probably a bug.” Kim had answered and he had hummed in response. A part of her wished that she wouldn’t tell him this, that she wouldn’t be having this conversation with him when it’s just a thought and not even, really, much of a possibility.

But communication is important, a lesson she had learnt many times before—that in the long run, it does more than doesn’t. And it’s not good for her, for herself, to keep these thoughts locked up only in her brain. Especially when having more kids is something they want.

It’s not like they’re actively trying. Kim’s only just come off birth control, and the doctor warned them it takes a while for her body to adjust. They had even been using condoms, occasionally, as it makes the clean up easier in their busy lives.

That had been all they had said to each other, then, needing to get Makayla ready and to school, before heading to work themselves. But it was only a few hours later, when another wave of nausea had washed over her while Adam and her were in the break room that she had stopped them making the coffee, grabbing at Adam’s arm.

“I should get a test.” Kim had told him, murmuring, but her urgency clear. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she knew if she was or not, the thoughts in her mind almost distracting her.

“Okay. Now? We can say we’re going to see a CI?” Adam immediately got his game face on, and that’s when she had started to panic. About what if she is pregnant, about if she’s ready to be pregnant again, about if she can handle it.

Suddenly, the thought of simply peeing on a stick seemed impossible.

Hailey had entered the break room, then, and had took on look at Kim’s panicked expression and Adam trying to calm her to know that something was up. It only took one look between her and Adam, after Hailey asked if she was okay, for them to fill in Hailey, needing another voice to help them through this.

“Hey, calm down.” Hailey had said in that way of hers. “It’ll be okay and there’s no point panicking until you know—and here. If it’s too much to pee alone, I’ll take one with you. Moral support.”

It was an insane idea, Adam staring at Hailey incredulously. But it clicked in Kim’s brain, and she found herself saying yes before she knew what she was doing.

They had used the CI lie instead, telling Voight they were going to see one of Hailey’s. Kim had watched as Hailey tried not to focus on Jay’s eyes following them out the bullpen, not wanting to let him know there was anything more to it—good, considering.

The journey there and back was filled with Kim’s nervous ramblings to Hailey, as she voiced her fears and worries about this, the blonde just listening patiently and giving her comfort and support when she needed it.

They had taken the tests in the district ladies room, Adam waiting outside—probably shooing away anyone else. Which, Kim had thought, probably means Trudy will have a theory to her being pregnant before the day is up.

“It’ll be alright, Kim.” Hailey had reassured her as they waited those long two minutes. Hailey had gotten out her phone, had set a timer for them and even though Kim could see the seconds counting down, it felt like eternity.

“I can’t. Can you look at it?” Kim had asked after the minutes were up, unable to look at the stick, feeling quite like her heart was in her throat. Hailey had rolled her eyes good-naturedly, before telling Kim that she will.

The excited yelp that left Hailey’s mouth almost instantly after told Kim all she needed to know and Kim turned the stick to look at it herself, and seeing that amazing pink line.

“I’m pregnant! Hailey, I’m pregnant!” Kim couldn’t help her own excitement, throwing her arms around the blonde, squeezing her into a hug.

“Oomph,” Hailey clearly hadn’t been prepared for that, lifting her arms weirdly at the sudden brunette weight barrelled into her and that’s when Kim saw it.

Hailey’s own stick.

Hailey’s own stick, with her own pink line.

“Hailey!” Kim gasped before she can stop it, squeaking out her friend’s name. Hailey pulled back from the hug, frowning at Kim.

“What?”

“Your...” Kim couldn’t finish the sentence, instead she pointed at the stick and watched as Hailey looked down at it, watching the comprehension and then shock over take her face.

It’s a few days later, and Kim is sitting in Molly’s. Sylvie has gotten over her bug and immediately organised a girl’s night out. Not that Kim or Hailey will be drinking—a shame, since Sylvie had told them that she and Stella had some exciting news.

The day after the found out, Hailey had come into work and whispered into Kim’s ear that everything was okay. That her and Jay decided that this is unexpected but welcome, and they had a doctor’s appointment to confirm it.

Very little people know yet. Kim has been to the doctor, the doctor confirming she is ten weeks along. They told Kevin almost immediately, Trudy—as Kim guessed—had yet again figured it out and of course Hailey knows, alongside Jay.

They told Voight, just so Kim could explain why she doesn’t want to go out in the field—can’t, really, her pregnancy being somewhat of a high risk—although she’s waiting until Monday to officially disclose.

This weekend Adam and her have plans to tell Makayla, something she’s quite excited too, knowing how much her daughter wants to be a big sister, having been begging them for a baby for months—well, that or a puppy.

Hailey and Jay have only told, obviously her and Adam, and Will. They’re waiting until after today—the day of their doctor’s appointment—before disclosing and Kim and Hailey had a conversation about announcing it to their mutual friends, deciding it might be nice to do it together. Of course, it depends on how along Hailey is.

“Hey,” Hailey slips into the booth next to her and Kim smiles in greeting to her friend.

“Hey. How did the appointment go?” Kim asks, knowing once Sylvie and Stella gets here they won’t be able to discuss the pregnancies.

“Great,” Hailey practically beams. “We heard the heartbeat! Jay cried.”

Kim laughs slightly. “So did Adam. I mean, so did I, but I cry at everything.”

At that, Hailey laughs too. “Kim, so does Adam. Not like you—but I wouldn’t say he’s not a crier. Jay—I’ve seen him cry, but, man, it was. It just hit me, this is the father of my baby. And it made me more happy then I think the heartbeat did. We were both raised by a men who never be seen crying but our baby isn’t going to have that. It was...it was wonderful.”

“I’m so happy for you. Congratulations,” Kim pulls her into a hug before quickly adding on, checking to see if Sylvie and Stella had arrived yet. “So come on, quick. How far along are you?”

At that, Hailey excitedly grabs her arms. “Yes! How could I forget! Kim, you’ll never guess—I’m also ten weeks along!”

Life, Kim thinks again, really does have a strange sense of humour.

A thought she once again thinks when Stella and Sylvie arrive and they make their announcement.

“We’re pregnant. Both of us.” They announce and Kim’s mouth drops open, and she realises they all ordered water instead of alcohol. She barely knows how to process this, Hailey squeezing her hand in shock under the table, but before she can, they’re dropping the next bombshell.

“Stella found out about a week or so ago, I found out earlier this week when I kept throwing up. We’re both around ten weeks,” Sylvie continues.

“No fucking way.” The words drop out of Hailey’s mouth, and judging by the way she gasps, holding her hands across her mouth, Kim guesses she didn’t mean them too. Kim tries to calm her down, widening her eyes at the blonde, but the other two catch on to that there’s something going on.

Kim sighs, after Hailey gives her the go ahead. “Hailey and I—we’re also pregnant. Ten weeks.”

Life has a strange sense of humour.

Kim doesn’t think there’s any mutual acquaintance in their lives who doesn’t somewhat doubt that the four couples didn’t plan this. If Kim wasn’t living through it, she’d scarcely believe it herself. Especially when they narrowed it down and are pretty sure all four pregnancies are the result of a faulty condom—condoms taken from Kelly’s infamous bathroom supply.

Kelly and Stella are self explanatory. They hadn’t used them in a while, but Stella was changing birth control and so they did. Matt and Sylvie a little bit less, but still less incredulous. Matt doesn’t live with Kelly and Stella anymore, but the guestroom—now a nursery—was still open to them any time, the boys having slight separation issues. And apparently when they did this, they’d just use Kelly’s supply.

Jay and Hailey had apparently ran out, and they hadn’t gotten more before Stella and Kelly hosted a night at theirs and Jay had apparently thought grabbing a handful from the supply would be a good idea. Hailey almost questioned her choice in man then, not that Kim could judge her.

Because on that same night, Adam and her were getting a little too flirty and when they realised they were feeling a little loud than they can be, with Makayla sleeping at home, they, in their wisdom, decided why not do it in Adam’s jeep.

And they didn’t have any protection, naturally, on them so Adam had grabbed a condom for Kelly’s supply.

And thus, all four pregnancies were made.

There are benefits, however, Kim would happily admit. Voight, maybe not, depending he’s down two members and another two when there’s doctor appointments. And with them being due around the same time, they’ll be a month he’s down all four, give and take. The unit—especially Kevin—might also not, especially on the days her and Hailey’s hormones and cravings and hated smells conflicted.

But there are benefits. Having your three close friends going through the same things is nice, especially when they could see if a symptom or something is usual—especially when one of the friends is a paramedic and the other’s brother in law is a doctor.

It also makes it more fun, all of them—the men included—having a light hearted race about who’s bump shows first, who kicks and moves first and so forth. It made the pregnancies that little bit more fun, even when it was miserable, even when doubts and anxieties about the upcoming parenthood loomed.

The biggest race, especially as the pregnancies drew closer to the end, was the competition and bets who will go into labour first, who will have their baby before the other.

But, of course, life has a strange sense of humour so, naturally, they all went into labour on the same day.

Stella had technically started the night before, her contractions beginning then. They were far and few in between so she was advised just to wait.

Kim’s had started earlier that morning. She had been woken up at the crack of dawn with back pain. Nothing too unusual at this stage of the pregnancy, but as Adam was helping Makayla pack her lunch for school, Kim’s waters had broke.

When Adam and her had gotten to the hospital, about to update the group chat, they had passed Stella and Kelly and the high five they had shared had raised some nurses eyebrows.

Childbirth being the thing that it is, they didn’t look at the group chat after that. Kim’s contractions were starting to come more frequently, and Adam had left the room to holler at the doctor—only to run into Will. Will, who raised his eyebrow at Adam, and asked if he was here for Hailey and Jay.

Because the one thing Voight joked better not happen, that he can’t be down four members, plus a fifth and the desk sergeant as they were determined to meet Kim and Adam’s second daughter as soon as possible, had happened and Hailey had gone into labour around midday.

Flora Leslie Severide is born first, at seven point six pounds. Her godparents had plans to meet her first, but they had got laid up with their own new arrival so the man who had been like a father to both her parents and his wife met her first.

Alice Trudy Burgess Ruzek is born second, at eight point seven pounds, a weight that got her father nearly cursed at. Her older sister was the first to meet her, shortly followed by their grandmother Trudy and godfather Kevin.

If you were to ask Kim who’s kid would come next, she would’ve guessed the Halstead’s son, but it wasn’t. Sylvie had gone into labour later than the others, but had a much faster labour, her daughter being determined to be born quickly, apparently.

And so, Estelle Kelly Casey is born third, at nearly seven pounds. Met first by her honorary grandfather, Mouch, already at the hospital to be with his wife and her godparents, with her cousin Flora sleeping, having been in the world a little longer.

And finally, Nikolas Patrick Halstead made his arrival, last but the biggest at nine pounds, met by his uncle and godfather first, but shortly followed by uncle Kevin, his godmother Kim and uncle Adam still occupied with his cousin.

Life has a strange sense of humour sometimes but—as Kevin joked—at least they can all split birthday costs with each other and not have to worry about their various aunts and uncles not being able to make it.

Not to mention how it made finding the balance between being new parents and having a social life easier.

And eventually, people stopped looking at them as if they planned this. That is, of course, until Sylvie and Hailey had their second kids—Andrew Casey and Theodore Halstead—at the same time, too.

#burzek #upstead #stellaride #brettsey #chicago pd #Chicago fire #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #I'm not gonna tag all the characters bc Sheesh #but i will #kim burgess #hailey upton #bc there's a lot of upgess moments #ree writes #ree's.writing

[yoddream]

You and Jeno were the best of friends. Growing up together, you saw each other’s good and bad moments, learned every flaw, and knew every fact. It was hard to separate the two of you, even in high school. You even started attending the same college. There wasn’t a single friend one had that the other didn’t.

Then, Jeno got a girlfriend.

There was nothing wrong with Yeeun. She was an absolute sweetheart and was always so nice to you. She made Jeno really happy, which was all you ever wanted. The problem was that Jeno seemed to give her all his time. It started out small, with him ditching you some days for lunch to have it with her instead. Then, he wouldn’t be able to make it to a hangout with your friends because he was taking her on a date. That turned into him canceling at the last minute. Soon, every lunch was spent with Yeeun. He stopped responding in the group chat as much. Sometimes he would leave you on read.

The last straw was him not showing up to movie night anymore, only to show up the next day with a bunch of hickeys on his neck. Movie nights started when you guys were toddlers. They were sacred and only canceled for emergencies or an illness. If anyone was on vacation, you would FaceTime and watch together. There was no excuse for him to miss movie nights.

That one broke you.

You couldn’t count how many times Jaemin held you as you cried yourself to sleep, knowing you’d practically lost your best friend. You hadn’t hung out with him in a long time, and it felt like a part of you was missing. It was obvious the others were worried about you, but they felt helpless. The bags under your eyes refused to disappear. You ate, but it wasn’t very much. You fell into a deep depression, and they did everything they could to get you out of it.

Were you too reliant on Jeno? Probably, but this wasn’t somebody you’d met recently; this was somebody you’d potty trained with, someone who gave you his stuffed dog when an older kid pushed you off the jungle gym and broke your arm, somebody who knew every secret you had. He was very special to you, and just like that, he was gone.

///

Jeno: hey, wanna get ice cream?

The text stared back at you. You rubbed at your eyes to make sure it wasn’t a dream, and sure enough, it was still on your screen, waiting for a response. You hadn’t showered in almost a week, which you knew annoyed Haechan because he had to smell you all the time since he was your roommate, and your face was covered in acne. You looked like this, and he suddenly wanted to hang out? Normally, you didn’t care how you looked when you hung out with your friends, but this was different. Jeno could see that you weren’t doing well, and you didn’t want that.

Wait.

You knew why he wanted to hang out.

He and Yeeun broke up.

That was the only explanation. Why else would he try to make plans? The last time you hung out alone was almost three months ago. You really only saw him when the group made plans and he wasn’t canceling to be with Yeeun. Why you, though? Why not the whole group?

You: yeah gimme an hour

When he sent a thumbs up emoji, you threw your phone down and raced to the bathroom. You took extra time in the shower to make sure everything was washed and fresh before getting out. Once you were dressed, you put on makeup, making sure to cover all the acne on your face. After deeming yourself presentable, you texted Jeno to ask where you were going for ice cream. He suggested the place near your apartment, so you grabbed your things and headed out, glad that Haechan wasn’t there to question you.

The ice cream place wasn’t far, but Jeno still managed to get there before you. As you approached him, you debated giving him a hug or not. It’s been so long, you didn’t know if it was okay anymore. It sounded insane, but his change in behavior made you question every action.

“Hey!” Jeno greeted you with his bright smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he still looked adorable. You waved to him and reached for the door, but he beat you to it and held it open for you.

The inside of the ice cream shop was cute, with pastel walls and cartoon cows painted on the counter. The tables were a light pink with white legs, and same with the chairs. It was small, but you two loved going there. You ordered and paid before bringing your cups to the table Jeno chose. He thanked you and dug in, not hesitating to eat his feelings.

“So, you and Yeeun broke up?” you asked.

He stopped eating. “How did you know?”

You paused. How could you explain it without either hurting his feelings or getting into an argument? Telling him the truth would surely change the vibe, and not for the better. “...Lucky guess.”

“Huh. Well, yeah. She broke up with me. I don’t even know why, though. She refused to tell me,” he explained, stabbing his spoon into his ice cream. “Like, was it something I did? Is it something I need to work on so that my next relationship lasts?”

“You think you won’t get back together?” you questioned.

He shrugged. “I mean, if she wants to, then I will, but that’s also if I still want to date her by the time she decided. It just sucks, because I thought things were going well. The sex was great, we got along really well, and we never fought. To be dumped just like that is just very strange.”

You winced at the comment about their sex lives, not really wanting to know in the first place. It did seem very out of the blue for her to break up with him, but you tried not to dwell too much on it. It would only upset him more.

The two of you caught up, but it seemed like he didn’t realize just how absent he was from your life. He asked about your classes and your family, wondering how they were doing since he hadn’t seen them in a while. You asked the same and also questioned if he’d made any friends, which he hadn’t. So all his time was spent with just Yeeun, it seemed.

When it was time to head back to your apartment, Jeno hugged you goodbye before heading the opposite direction. Your feet dragged, your body screaming for you to return to Jeno and get as much attention from him as possible, but you had homework you needed to work on, so you continued home.

///

“Jesus, just like that?” Jaemin asked Jeno.

The two of them were hanging out at Jaemin’s apartment, playing video games and talking about the break up. When Jaemin found out, he immediately called the other man and invited him over. They were catching up on things when Jaemin had asked about the break up, and Jeno told him everything.

“Just like that. No explanation. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? Angry? Sad? I need something so I know how to process it,” Jeno ranted.

“Who else knows?”

“Well, Y/N figured it out when we went out for ice cream.”

“Wait, you hung out with Y/N?” Jaemin asked.

“Is it really that surprising?”

“Considering you practically dropped her, yeah.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, ever since you and Yeeun started dating, you’ve bailed on all your plans with Y/N. We tried to get her to give up, but she still had hope.”

Jeno’s heart started to race. Surely he didn’t do that to his best friend, right? Pulling out his phone, he opened his texts with you, and his stomach dropped at all the times he canceled on you, said he already had plans, or just left you on read. For months, you put up with it without saying a word to him. For months, you tried to keep your friendship going, and what did he do? Nothing.

“I’ve gotta go,” Jeno stated as he ran towards the door.

“What? Where are you going?” Jaemin called out.

“I need to fix this.”

Without elaborating, Jeno left the apartment and ran down the stairs. When he got outside, he hopped into his car and sped to your place. He couldn’t believe he did that. No wonder you seemed a little uncomfortable the other day. You didn’t know how to act around him anymore. He really fucked up.

Before he knew it, he was knocking on your apartment door. It took a few seconds, but then you were looking at him with wide eyes, clearly not expecting him to be standing there. He took in the dark circles under your eyes and the stress acne he knew you got whenever you were depressed and said, “I’ve been a really bad friend, haven’t I?”

The tears fell before it even registered that your eyes were watering. Soon, you were sobbing into Jeno’s shoulder as he stepped in and tried to soothe you. You started to hyperventilate, the emotions overwhelming you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. It’s okay, though I’m here now,” he stated, repeating his words softly.

He managed to move the two of you to your room, lying on your bed with you wrapped in his arms. You continued to cry, and it surprised you that you had any tears left. He rubbed your back and pressed kisses to your hair, just like he did whenever your depression got really bad. He felt extremely guilty for being the cause of your tears and sadness.

“I missed you so much,” you whined.

“I missed you too I’m so sorry I ditched you. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

///

Dreamies (plus Y/N)

Haechan: (picture of you and Jeno sleeping in your bed with Jeno wrapped around you like a koala)

Haechan: all is right in the world again.

Jaemin: oh, that’s where he went.

Mark: Finally! I’m glad they’re working things out

Renjun: Good. I was really concerned about her

Chenle: look at Renjun having feelings

Haechan: gross

Jisung: seeing her cry made me cry so i’m glad they’re talking again

Chenle: you big baby

part two is here

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #nct imagine #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagine #nct jeno #nct dream jeno #jeno imagines #lee jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #lee jeno scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios

[seungmvnnie]

Flipped

pairing; Chenle x reader

genre; enemies to lovers au, ‘American high school’ au, angst, fluff

word count; 10.8k

summary; ‘The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped.’ You had known that you were in love with Chenle, your next door neighbor, since you were 7 years old. Chenle wanted nothing to do with you. Until of course, ten years later he starts to realize that perhaps there’s more to you that meets the eye, unluckily just as you began to realize, perhaps Chenle was less than you had chalked him up to be.

warnings; insensitive language regarding illness, death, female reader, heavily inspired by the movie flipped, some scenes are near word for word from the movie, so credits to the movie for those parts, although parts of the main narrative differ, as well as scenes. A large majority of the characters are not similar to their real life counterpart. 

tag list; @sunflowerhae​ @byunbaekby​​ @mikasrecs​(if you asked to be on the tag list and i didn’t tag you, i’m very sorry, i was terrible at tracking who was on it cause im an idiot)

a/n; Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon Appetit.

It all began in the Summer before second grade. In Zhong Chenle’s eyes, it was the beginning of a decade of strategic avoidance, awkward encounters, and a lifetime worth of what he deemed to be, discomfort.

For you, it was true love.

The moment you laid eyes on Zhong Chenle, you had flipped. It was something in those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you. Or maybe it was something about his smile. There was something about him which made you realize that at 7 years old, you had met your soul mate. His family had just moved into your neighborhood, a long cul-de-sac of identical, modern two-story houses, the majority of which had the same identical clean cut lawns and typical nuclear well off family who owned the house and prided themselves on how their petunias were better than the house across the streets. That was except for yours, of course. Deemed the ‘embarrassment of the neighborhood,’ the yellow paint on your house was flaking off, the grass dry and grey and the fence encasing the yard, which had at one point been white was now a dull grey, not to mention falling apart in some places. This was attributed to the fact that your father simply did not have the time. As a painter, he had to work extra hard to provide for his family, especially considering your mother’s situation.

It was a hot summer’s day, the day Chenle moved in. You could remember the feeling of the sun on your face as you basked in its warmth, the pavement on which you sat almost boiling as the moving van pulled up to the house opposite yours. You had recalled that your father had told you to always be kind and helpful, which is why you had thought it appropriate to skip across the road to the nice looking family and offer a helping hand.

Little did you know, your help was unwanted. Chenle remembered watching the girl skip – skip? As if anyone had done that since kindergarten – from the odd-looking house across the way and when she confidently stated,

“Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Need any help?” He looked to his father for confirmation that this girl was strange. He noticed the judgmental look which was written on his father’s face as he surveyed the girl with the messy hair and grubby clothes, no doubt from playing in the unpleasant yard which she came from that juxtaposed with their clean, green yard. He recognized the exact moment that his father deemed them better than her, a switch in his face where he knew where she stood on the social ladder. Acting according, he too looked at the girl with disdain.

“There’s some valuable things in those boxes. Don’t touch them.” His father had scolded as you reached for one of the boxes that were stacked on their lawn.

“What about this one?” You suggested, reaching for another one. This was the moment that Chenle had realized that this girl could not take a hint. His father had pushed the box away with his foot before you could even touch it.

“Maybe you should run home? Your moms probably worried about you.” He sneered, staring down his nose on you. Resilient, you stared back.

“My dad knows I’m here.” You had replied simply, before turning to Chenle.

“Want to push one together?” You asked, pointing at one of the heavier ones. Chenle scrunched his face up at you, looking to his father for answers.

“I think your mom wants your help in the house, Chenle.” His dad had replied, not so subtly winking at him, as if to say, ‘escape from the crazy girl while you can.’

 He seized the opportunity, turning on his heel and running towards the house, where his mother stood in the doorway, when the most ridiculous thing happened. Not only did (Y/N) (Y/L/N) follow him, but you grabbed his hand.

“Oh, hello! I see you’ve met my son.” His mother had called out, a small smile growing on her face as she observed the sight of the two 7-year olds connected by their hands.

Chenle, having no clue how to escape the situation, did the most mature thing a 7-year-old boy could do. He hid behind his mother.

Who did you think you were? He had been here for less than 10 minutes and he had some crazy girl trying to hold his hand.

Of course, for you, you really had thought you were being kind. The boxes on the lawn did look intimidatingly heavy but you were sure with the help of the cute boy stood next to them, you could help get them into the house. You hadn’t picked up on the fact that it had taken Mr. Zhong all of 10 seconds to determine that you weren’t worthy of their time and when he had sent his son inside to help unpack, you thought maybe it would be a good idea to chase after him, see if he wanted to play for a bit before he was stuck unpacking boring boxes. You had grabbed his arm to stop him from running into his house, when he turned around and moved his arm out of your clasp, grabbing your hand instead.

You could remember vividly, the way your stomach had flipped as he stared at you with those deep brown eyes, and you had been so sure he was going to kiss you. He had held your hand! At 7, you had basically considered that a marriage proposal. If his mother had not have called out to you, you were sure you were going to have had your first kiss at 7 years old. The way he blushed and hid behind his mother was adorable, he was so shy.

That night you lay awake, thinking of the boy who was walking around with your first kiss.

If only he wasn’t so shy, maybe he would have. That was the moment you decided, you were going to do everything in your power to ensure that Chenle would not have to ever feel shy around you. He needed to know; he had a friend in you.

While sweet in theory, the reality of the situation was, Chenle believed he did not need the help of, what his father had referred to the evening after you, your two older brothers and your father brought over homemade pies, ‘trash like them.’ He especially did not need the help of the girl who embarrassed him on the first day of school. Yes, you had thought it appropriate, upon seeing Chenle enter the classroom of Mr. Lee on the very first day of school, to run up to him and give him a huge hug, which he of course, had struggled against. That’s what had earned him the reputation of being (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s boyfriend, a reputation he did not manage to shrug off until freshman year of high school, and he only got rid of through dating Lee Chaeryong for an incredibly brief period of time, who was perfectly sweet, but he didn’t find her particularly interesting.

For a while, he found dealing with Chaeryong’s insistence yammering about nothing he cared about a lot easier to endure than the lovesick eyes you gave him. The plan was, he would walk her to class a few times, sit with her at lunch and eventually, you would lose interest, he could break up with her.  It was all going smoothly, until his best friend, Park Jisung, suddenly decided to get a moral backbone for once and tell Chaeryong what Chenle was doing. Chenle reckoned it was just because of Jisung’s own crush on her, but either way, it had resulted in a very public breakup. A week later, you were back to obsessing over him, and once again he became, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.

 3 years later, their senior year, brought a lot of changes, the main change of which being Chenle’s grandfather had permanently moved in with their family. Chenle did not know much of his grandfather. An old surly man, he spent his days sat in the armchair beside their front window, staring blankly out into the empty street. Chenle’s mom said he did that because he missed grandma, although Chenle would not know as much he had very little conversations with him. The second change in Chenle’s life was more superficial as everyone was talking about how much (Y/N) had grown between the summer of junior and senior year – your face had thinned out, and you had a much more of a mature air about you and for a brief moment of, what Chenle had deemed insanity, he may have mistaken you as pretty. Of course, the second you had sent him the same goofy smile which graced your face every time you looked at him, and murmured the same,

“Hi, Chenle,” the pit in his stomach from the tired repetition of ten years returned.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He had replied, a tight-lipped smile sent your way.

 It is imperative to the justification of your side of the story that you understand that Chenle had never once openly rejected you, or even treated you rudely. You would talk to him when you could, and he would reply perfectly politely, which would only reinforce the idea that it’s not that he did not like you, he was just shy. On top of that, it was not as if you actively pursued him. You spoke to him like one would a friend as, how you saw it, everyone knew you liked Chenle, no doubt, including him. If he wanted to, he would ask you out. Other than that, you were content talking to him when you could.

 Other than your looks, a lot more had changed in your life. For almost as long as you could remember, your mother had been sick. There had been a time, a very long time ago, where you could recall how the same scalic motif would echo from the piano which now lay dormant, the thick layer of dust that had blanketed it over the years rendering it inoperable. Your life had been filled with hospital visits to a woman you had never really gotten the opportunity to know and who no longer knew you. You often grazed your hand over the ivory piano keys, and tried to flick through the penciled sheet music which hadn’t been touched since the last time your mom had last scribbled on them but to you it was a foreign language you could only hope to understand.

About a week into September, you had been ignoring your English teacher’s in-depth analysis of some Shakespeare scene and letting your thoughts and eyes wander to where Chenle sat two seats in front of you. His black hair had seemed even darker that day, contrasting with the white t-shirt and denim jacket he was wearing. You were so focused on the way his head would duck down to take notes, that you barely noticed the teacher who had slid into the classroom and leaned to whisper something in your teacher’s ear. It wasn’t until your teacher had called your name and Chenle had spun to stare at you alongside the rest of the class, his brown eyes meeting yours, that you had snapped back into reality, the heat of your embarrassment at getting caught by Chenle warming your face. Funnily enough, you had forgotten about your embarrassment when your teacher had called you out into the hallway, where your tearful father stood. He didn’t have to say anything. You knew.

The next week all blurred together into a flurry of emotions which you purposefully tried your best to forget. The funeral was huge, groups of people from your school coming to show solidarity, as well as the entire neighborhood, including Chenle and his family. You could not bring yourself to glance at him, not with your father crying quietly next to you. You did not know whether to cry for the woman you had never met before. 

  Your school allowed you the next few months off school, but you had returned after only one month and that month was the quietest your house had ever been. Your father locked himself in his room for the first two weeks, and your brothers oversaw making dinner for the family, which essentially meant the whole family was living off frozen pizza for two weeks. Your dad eventually emerged from his bedroom, but when he did, he was like a man crazed. He insisted that you did a spring clean (it was September) of the house and get rid of the clutter which had gathered from the many years of neglect. You were in charge of sorting through all of the things your dad wanted to give to charity, and you had invited your friend Shin Ryujin over to help. More like she insisted. Ryujin had been new to town in freshmen year and had befriended you before she had known of your reputation as ‘Chenle’s stalker,’ and she had been a fierce friend ever since. You had both been folding a pile of old clothes when your eyes fell on your mom’s old music stand accompanied with that oh so familiar stack of written sheet music under a pile of old toys. 

You didn’t want your mom’s handwritten sheet music to end up in a charity shop but your dad had insisted that no one was using it, and, unless you could think of someone else to give it to, it was going to charity. That was when, luckily, you remembered Chenle. He was a skilled piano player and singer, so much so, the whole school anticipated his performance in the Christmas Talent Show, which he had won for the past 3 years. Upon gaining your father’s permission, but against the wishes of Ryujin who had spent the past three years explaining how Chenle was terrible for you and you needed to, in her words, ‘Hoe it up,’ you made the journey across the road and knocked on Chenle’s door, clutching the music stand and sheet music to your chest. Luckily, he had been the one to open the door instead of his father whom you didn’t personally mind, but felt as though he may have disliked you. 

It had been early before school one morning, when you had knocked on his door. He was barely awake, the sweatpants and loose t-shirt he had worn for his pajamas still clung to his body. He hadn’t expected to be opening the door to someone from school, let alone you, awake and bright eyed. On a normal day, your chirpiness would have bothered him to no end, but today was different. He hadn’t seen you since your mom’s funeral, and he found that he had wounded up missing your ever-present annoyance. He didn’t know how reassuring that lovesick, “Hi, Chenle,” could be. He couldn’t understand how, in your absence, he found his eyes straying to your empty seat, or when he sat at his desk which lay in front of his window, his eyes would wander to where he knew your bedroom window sat. He had realized, in the few weeks that you were off, that your presence was more comforting that your absence.

His dad hadn’t wanted to go the funeral. Apparently, he didn’t see the point. It was his mother who had pushed them to go, saying how bad they would have looked if they didn’t show their faces. His dad had argued that he didn’t care how he looked to a poor dreamer and the ‘crazies he calls family.’ The only reason they ended up going was because his mom had said she was going with or without him and apparently that would look bad to everyone else in the neighborhood. Chenle didn’t see the harm; sure he didn’t like you, but you were always nice to him and it was only respectful.

“Uh- Hi, (Y/N).” He said, eyes wandering down your body to where you clutched the sheet music and back up to your face. Your heart had flipped, a sensation you were now old friends with and usually attributed to Chenle’s warm brown eyes which traversed your face, his morning voice only making him more attractive. Little did you know, Chenle’s biggest concern at this moment was less checking you out and more checking if you were okay, and judging by the tired bags under your eyes despite your outwardly cheery appearance, you didn’t look okay.

“Hi, Chenle.” For once, those two words didn’t make him want to rip his own hair out.

“Uh, these are my mom’s. My dad wanted to give them to charity but, I don’t know, I thought they’d be better with someone I know... and well, you’re kind of the only musician I know.” His eyes flickered down to the sheet music you clutched in your arms.

“Oh- Thanks?” The music stand looked to Chenle to be at least 30 years old and the yellowing sheet music did not look too enticing, but he reached out his arms for them anyways.

“She wrote the music herself. You don’t have to play it but, I don’t know, I just really didn’t want to see it end up in the back of some charity shop. At least I know, with your talent, it’s in good hands.”

“Oh, well thanks.” You sent him an awkward closed mouth smile before turning on your heel but before you could make the short walk across the road, he called out to you.

“Wait-”

You spun around again.

“Yeah?”

He had stood up from where he had previously been leaning against the door frame, his brow now furrowed.

“Are you- are you coming back to school anytime soon?” He almost cringed as he uttered the words. He always felt bad being nice to you, it felt as if he was giving you false hope. However, for the first time, it came naturally to him as opposed to the fake smile he would give you.

“I’m allowed off until January but I’m coming back next week. It’s just so... quiet at my house. I’m kind of sick of it at this point.” His eyes scanned your face again, in the way that felt as though he could stare into your very soul if he looked hard enough.

“Well, I hope you’re okay.” The sincerity in his voice echoed the sympathetic look on his face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you next week, I guess.”

“See you at school.” He closed the door and looked at the music stand he had left leaning against the wall, which, unfortunately, became the topic of discussion that night at the dinner table.

“I think it was very nice of her to give you that stuff, Chenle.” His Mom had said, the clinking sounds of cutlery against plates underlying the conversation.

“I’m not using them,” He replied simply, as he moved the vegetables his mom had forcibly placed on his plate around with his fork. 

“Oh, don’t be a dick, Chenle.” His sister nudged him, ignoring their parent shouts of, ‘language!’

“I’m not being a dick, they’re about 30 years old and I’m a piano player, I don’t use a music stand anyways.” He placed his fork down.

“Well, they’re not lying here and collecting dust. I’m honestly annoyed. Just because their house is all cluttered doesn’t mean our house has to be. You can go back and tell her you don’t want them.” His dad interjected, in that authoritarian manner he so loved.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“Eat your vegetables, Chenle.” His mom said, taking a sip from her way-too-expensive crystal wine glass. He rolled his eyes and picked up his fork again, purposely taking a bite out of the broccoli which adorned his plate.

“Why not? Are you scared of her?” His dad challenged, and Chenle couldn’t help but notice the broccoli which remained on his plate. Why did Chenle have to eat it but his dad didn’t?

“I’m not scared of her, it’s just- Her mom just died. I don’t want to be mean.” His fork stopped moving as his Father scoffed.

“Man up. You aren’t being rude, you’re being honest.”

“Chenle, vegetables.” 

He groaned, shoveling as much of the vegetables into his mouth as he possibly could in one go before sinking down in his chair. He didn’t have a clue what to do. On one hand, the music equipment was of no use to him, so realistically, it would make the most sense to give them back. But on the other hand, if he gave them back they would just end up with charity and while Chenle didn’t necessarily like the girl, he didn’t think he could be that insensitive. Which was why he had deemed it an amazing idea to ask the paragon of good advice, his best friend, Park Jisung, at school the next day.

“Dude, just give it away yourself.” Jisung had answered assertively, from where he had perched himself atop his desk during their break, opening the cupcake that Chenle had given him. It had originally been a gift from Chaeryong who had long since forgiven him since the Freshmen incident, and every now and then when she got bored, would return to her phase of crushing on him.

“What do you mean?” Chenle asked, ignoring the way he could most definitely see Chaeryong staring at him from behind Jisung’s head, taking a sip of the strawberry milk he had bought from the school vending machine. Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I mean, if you give it away to some thrift shop first, she’ll never know, and you can tell your family that you told her. Boom, both people are happy.” Chenle chewed at the straw of his milk carton. He wasn’t necessarily wrong; in giving the stuff away himself, no one got hurt and he wouldn’t get called a coward by his family.

“Jisung, you’re a genius. Come with me after school? We’ll drop by my house and I’ll drive us into town.” Jisung nodded, cringing as he picked the love heart candy off the cupcake.

Unfortunately for Chenle, he hadn’t seemed to realize that, sat with her back to him was Ryujin, who had overheard the whole conversation, mostly because Chaeryong had insisted they eavesdropped on them to see if they talked about her. Ryujin had let Chenle away with a lot over the years; he had ignored you, laughed at you with his friends, talked about you behind his back and while she would discuss how much of a prick she thought he was with you, you never believed her, or blamed yourself, or make excuses for him. Which was why she deemed it a necessary evil to send you a text saying, ‘Want to go thrift shopping after school? I’ll buy you coffee?’

She knew you would never turn down free coffee. And it actually had turned out you had multiple boxes to donate anyways, although shopping with Ryujin was always an experience. You liked clothes shopping as much as anyone, but Ryujin was crazy. She could take 3 hours to go through one tiny shop.

“Ryujin? Are you done yet?” You had whined, the cardboard coffee cup in your hand had been emptied at least half an hour ago, and you had finished looking for clothes an hour ago. She was especially taking her time today, deliberating every item of clothing she saw and the dark lighting was starting to hurt your eyes, the musky smell of cedar wood and laundry detergent was inviting at first, but now made you feel woozy.

“My feet hurt.” You complained again, only pouting at the joke glare she shot your way. The bell which jingled every time someone entered the shop that you had learned to zone out the past two hours rang again, but this time, Ryujin’s eyes flickered up and rested on the person standing at the door. You furrowed your brow and spun to see who she was staring at, and there stood Chenle and Jisung, both looking positively ill.

“Oh- Hi, Chenle!” You waved, a small smile gracing your face. You cocked your head slightly to look at the two boys who had lost all color to their faces. Chenle still looked as good as ever, and the smell of his citrusy shampoo paired with his expensive smelling cologne cut through the woody scent of the shop, his chestnut brown eyes which lay beneath his messy mop of dark hair bringing butterflies to your stomach the way they always did.

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a-,” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as your eyes had fallen down to where he clutched the oh so familiar sheet music and music stand. Your smile dropped, the butterflies in your stomach mutating into lead.

“What are you doing with those?” You asked, quietly, ignoring the way Jisung almost ran back out of the shop.

“I- uh- well...” He looked down, staring guiltily at his hands and the rusty music stand he clutched.

“If you didn’t want them you could have said, you know. You didn’t have to go behind my back to give them away.” You snapped, and for the first time in your whole life, looking at Chenle made your heart sink instead of flip. 

“It wasn’t me! My dad said that he didn’t-” He stopped, as if he had caught himself.

“Didn’t what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed, and glance to the side, almost as though he was refusing to meet your eyes.

“He said he didn’t understand why our house had to be cluttered just because you only started cleaning up your house and yard now.” He mumbled, and your eyes widened, and you put out an arm to stop Ryujin, who you could sense was about to jump on the boy.

“I didn’t think a bunch of sheet music was going to destroy your house that much.” You replied, letting out a huff and gulping away the lump in your throat, refusing to cry in front of him.

“I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” He mumbled, staring at his hands in shame. He had never wished that the ground would swallow him whole more in his entire life.

“You should have told me. Give them to the shop, honestly. I don’t care anymore.” You pushed past him, resisting the urge to throw the empty cardboard coffee cup at him.

“(Y/N)!” He called after you and you turned again, blinking back the tears which were gathering in your eyes, the constant chanting of, ‘don’t cry,’ becoming a sustained pedal in your head and realistically being the only thing stopping the tears from spilling.

“What?”

“I- I’m sorry.” His chestnut eyes you loved so much stared at you in that sincere way that felt as though he could stare into your soul if he tried hard enough, but for once, you could see a corruption in the honesty, a sort of rotten core to what you had previously thought was a pure center.

“No, you’re not.” You mumbled, before spinning back round and dragging Ryujin out by the wrist who had to drop the clothes she had clutched previously in a pile next to the door, having been given no opportunity to replace them tidily.

At first you had thought you were upset, the burning sensation in your chest was mistaken for sadness, but when you brought your hand up to your eyes to wipe away the tears which now fell, the downtrodden feeling switched into anger very quickly. Not only did Chenle lie and act as if he had cared about you and your family, but he had the audacity to talk about you all as if you were a group of hoarders who couldn’t keep your yard presentable.

You slammed your car door shut - while you had previously loved your run-down little jeep, you supposed perhaps the Zhong family liked to comment on that too - ignoring the comforting words Ryujin was uttering as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Are you busy on Saturday?” You asked as you gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, turning the key in the ignition.

“Uh- I don’t think so. Why?” Ryujin replied, eyeing you warily.

“How do you feel about gardening?”

It didn’t take long for Chenle to realize he had traded in his old problems with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) for a whole set of new ones. You had returned to school the next week, and the way you constantly avoided him was simply a reminder of how much of a jerk he had been. Not to mention when he woke up on Saturday morning to discover you and Ryujin in your garden pulling up weeds, the guilt panging in his chest as he watched you toil away.

Then one day a week later or so, he was walking back from playing basketball from Jisung when things got weird.

His grandfather stood in your front yard, a pair of sheers in hand as he clipped at the hedges which had grown over your windows, conversing quietly with you as you worked.

He had only ever seen his grandfather in slippers - where the hell had those work boots come from? He didn’t even know his grandfather knew how to use sheers let alone would willingly help a random girl from across the street. The more he watched from his bedroom window, the madder he got. His grandfather had said more to you in the last hour than he had the whole time he had lived with them. Chenle wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen his grandfather laugh before, but there he was, laughing at something you said.

You had been struggling with hacking away the hedge when his grandfather had approached you. Ryujin had abandoned helping you a while ago, but you still appreciated the help she had given you originally. You knew gardening wasn’t necessarily her thing. You wanted to think that the reason you had decided to fix up your yard was not because of what Zhong Chenle thought of you, but to make your house better in this new pre-mom times, as your brothers had begun calling them. After what he had done with your mom’s sheet music, why were you meant to care about anything he thought? But sadly, you knew deep down you did.

“Are you pruning that Hedge or hacking it to death?” You heard someone call out, and you swung around to see a man whom you couldn’t help but recognize as being related to Chenle. They had the same smile.

You laughed awkwardly, clutching the sheers a little tighter. 

“I’m Chenle’s grandfather. Sorry it’s taken me so long to come over and introduce myself.” He smiled again and outstretched a hand which you then shook.

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Are you planning on cutting these all to the same height?” He gestured towards the hedges. You breathed in, looking at the hedges which you had previously been ruining.

“That was the plan, but I might have to take them out. I’m not very good at this, if you can’t tell.” You joked.

“Oh, these are Hicksii shrubs. They should prune up nicely.” He replied, pulling out a pair of gloves he had appeared to have brought with him, and reached out for the sheers you had been holding.

You eyed him wearily, as he cut at the hedge. “Listen, Mr. Zhong, if you’re here because of what Chenle said, I don’t need your help.”

He leaned back and looked at you sincerely.

“I don’t know what my little shit of a grandson said to you, but I’m just here because of the crime you were committing on these shrubs.”

The previous reluctance you had felt was immediately relieved as you let out a sincere laugh, not expecting his crude language.

You both worked together on the yard for weeks, and the whole time you worked, you talked. Mr. Zhong was incredibly kind, and it was honestly nice to know that there was someone in that house who wasn’t watching and waiting for your families next screw up. He told you how you had the same spirit as his wife who died a while ago; apparently you both had the same strong will. Although the conversation that stuck with you the most was a few days into working together and he had tentatively asked you about what was happened with you and Chenle. You had explained the situation while you painted the wood you had bought together to make a fence.

“Well, do you like Chenle?” He had asked, and your face warmed, your hand which held the paint brush stilling.

“I don’t know... It’s something about his eyes, I guess.” You looked down, embarrassed. It felt really weird discussing this with his grandfather.

“But what about him?” Mr. Zhong had asked, his hand still as well.

“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you turned your head.

“Well - I mean think of it like this. Your father’s a painter, isn’t he? Well, a painting is more than the sum of its parts. You have to look at the whole landscape. A cow by itself is just a cow, a tree is just a tree, a beam of light is just sunshine, but when you put it all together - it can be something magical. Do you think Chenle’s more than the sum of his parts?” If he had asked you a month ago you would have said absolutely. Chenle was entirely more than the sum of his parts, in every conceivable way. But now you weren’t so sure.

“I- I don’t know.”

Meanwhile, Chenle was still struggling to apologize to you. He had spent all week trying to approach you at school, but when it came to holding a grudge, you were truly impressive. You always found a way to duck him, either turning in the hallway to walk the other way or having Ryujin exit through doors first when he tried to block them to confront you. And every time you were out in your yard, his grandpa was always there. It wasn’t until one day, on a cold Saturday morning towards the end of October, when his grandpa had gone into town to buy cream for his hands because all the yard work was starting to get to him, that he found his opening.

“It looks really good.” He commented, grabbing your attention from where you were watering the grass with a hose. You looked up at the boy whom you had dedicated your life to, who stood awkwardly behind the fence you had put up with his grandfather. You wished you could say he looked bad, but in a flannel shirt, black t-shirt and jeans he had never looked better.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, turning your back to him to continue your work.

“I- I’m sorry for what I did.” He piped up and you sighed before switching off the hose and turning towards him again.

“I don’t get it, Chenle. You could have just told me you didn’t need them. You didn’t have to give them away behind my back.” You looked at him, and for once, you were the one looking into his soul, not the other way around. You looked into those eyes, those dazzling brown eyes which bore into you that belonged to the boy walking around with your first kiss and you thought that perhaps his Grandpa was right. Maybe Chenle wasn’t more than the sum of his parts.

“I don’t know - It was dumb. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I shouldn’t have said anything about your yard either. It wasn’t right.” You let your eyes rest on his face again. You were sure - Chenle was definitely less than the sum of his parts. You shrugged.

“Maybe it was for the best.” You turned back towards the grass, turning the hose on again as if to signal, this was the end of the conversation.

“I- I guess I’ll see you around.” He said, hesitantly. You didn’t even turn to look at him this time.

“I guess.”

He spun to make the short trek back to his house, but not without turning back to look at you one last time before opening the bright red door of his house. Your acceptance of his apology was not all he had hoped for, but at least now he could watch TV with his family with a guilt free conscious. although the atmosphere between his grandpa and dad was nearly palpable, especially when his grandfather reached for the cream on the table beside them to rub into his hands.

“That girl working you too hard?” His dad slyly commented, ignoring the foul look his grandfather sent him in response as he rubbed cream into his hands.

“’That girl’s’ name is (Y/N). And no, she isn’t working me too hard.” 

Chenle’s dad widened his eyes slightly, staring down into the brandy which he swirled in the glass he held.

“Do you not think it’s a bit, I don’t know, weird, that you have the time and energy to spend time with the girl next door but not with your own grandson?” He replied snippily, ignoring the way his mom interjected.

“-It’s okay, Dad-” Chenle began, but couldn’t finish as his father cut him off with a sharp, “No, it’s not.”

“Do you know why the (Y/L/N)’s hadn’t fixed up their yard until now?” His grandfather asked, more rhetorically than anything.

“Yeah. Because he’s too busy with his paint-by-numbers kit.” His dad answered, chortling to himself at his own joke, taking another sip of the brandy he was drinking.

“The illness Mrs. (Y/L/N) had was incredibly hard to treat, not to mention emotionally draining. Every penny they had went into hospital bills treating her, and even then, she had been in a coma for 8 years, and then unresponsive for another 5.” Chenle stared down at his hands, trying his best to zone out the argument, especially considering he had been the asshole who tried to give away this poor woman’s music.

“I don’t see what their vegetative mother has to do with their pride in ownership. Realistically, if she had looked after herself more, maybe they wouldn’t have been in this mess.” His dad had answered, once again laughing at his own joke.

“They don’t own that house, they rent it. It’s supposed to be the responsibility of the landlord, and it was nothing to do with how healthy that poor woman was, (Y/N)’s Mom had a blood condition that made her susceptible to strokes, and that’s what made her so ill.” Chenle’s mom sighed from where she sat next to him on the blue couch, before his father had the opportunity to reply and dig himself into a deeper hole.

“That poor family. We should have them over for dinner.” She announced, standing up, grabbing the still full glass from her husband’s hand as she moved into the kitchen.

“We are not having them over for dinner!” His father shouted from the living room.

“We should have them over for a sit down fancy dinner.” She replied, almost deliberately ignoring him.

“We are not - Hey!” He called out as he heard the buttons on the landline beep with each number his mother punched in.

“I’m sorry, I can’t here you over me inviting them over for- Oh hello, (Y/N), dear.” At the sound of your name, Chenle sank farther into the plush couch seats. He just wanted to watch television in peace.

“Shoot me now.” His dad mumbled.

“Careful what you wish for.” His Grandfather replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv and this time he was the one to ignore the evil look which was shot his way.

And so, dinner with the (Y/L/N)’s was in his imminent future, which only made things more uncomfortable at school. Much like when you had taken that month off in school, he found himself focused on the idea of you more than he had previously. He couldn’t get you out of his head, you and your poor mom. He thought he would apologize for the music thing, you would begrudgingly accept his apology, and you could live the rest of the senior year blissfully ignoring each other’s existents. While you had apparently stayed true to the plan, he couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to find you in class. He had spent 10 years in the same class as you but he had never noticed how you automatically pulled your bottom lip into your mouth when you were focused on something or the way you smiled to stop yourself laughing when Ryujin mumbled some sort of snarky comment. In the same bout of insanity he had experienced at the beginning of the year, he may have mistaken your smile as being pretty. Except this time the insanity did not melt away into resentment, but instead grew into a roaring monster of butterflies anytime he saw you.

He was starting to think he was sick or something. It was like his whole life had been flipped upside down; in what universe was he the one with the clammy hands and racing heart around (Y/N) (/L/N), and she was the one ignoring him? He needed to talk to someone - and who better than the lord of advice himself, Park Jisung.

Luckily for him, him and Jisung were the first people in their home room class the day of the dinner; usually you were in early, but today you conveniently hadn’t been. “Dude, I need your help.” Chenle emphatically exclaimed, sitting down in his seat next to Jisung before explaining the situation.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? You hate her. You’ve hated her for 10 years.” Jisung blankly stated, and Chenle shook his head. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.”

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently, she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” Chenle defended, the stubborn side of him which was declaring, it’s been a decade, why stop hating you now, losing out to this new need to defend you.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.” Jisung replied, leaning back in his chair with confidence, as though he had just solved the world’s problems. Chenle’s eyebrows knotted together, cocking his head.

“What do you mean?” 

Jisung scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing since the last advice he had kindly bestowed on Chenle.

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?”

Chenle wanted to hit him. He was certain, he had never before in his life been closer to punching someone and God did Jisung deserve it. How dare he say that? He wanted to tell him that it was much more complex than Jisung’s derogatory simplification of your mother’s illness, and just because Jisung was failing biology did not mean he had the right to be going around and saying things like that about you. He wanted to tell Jisung to keep his stupid opinion to himself, but despite this intense fury he felt searing up his chest, all he could manage was a stiff laugh.

“Oh. Yeah.” He mumbled, not looking at him in case the smug smile which had graced Jisung’s face flipped the switch which would erupt the burning anger in his chest.

You had been running late that day. You liked getting up earlier and beating the traffic to school, now more than ever, with the sullen mood your house had fallen into, although with the dinner with the Zhong family in your near future, the three boys of your house appeared cheerier. Your father was good friends with Mrs. Zhong and she had always been a good neighbor, and your two brothers were old friends with Chenle’s older sister. You were only one against the idea, but realistically, what harm could one dinner do? You had woken up and been ready on time, but when you climbed into your sturdy little jeep and turned the ignition keys, the engine made an unfortunate spluttering sound, that rather sounded like it was simply giving up.

You had taken a stab at fixing it, popping the hood and pretending as though you had a single clue about what to look for, but upon realizing there was no hope you started glancing worriedly back at your house. Surely one of the three people who all knew all to drive would know something about what was wrong with the engine. Biggest problem was, they were all asleep, and if you woke them up, you might have lost a hand. You were heavily considering risking the hand when, by some sort of divine intervention, a familiar voice called out to you.

“Need help?”

You started, spinning to see Mr. Zhong, the familiar and kind old face smiling at you. You hated how similar his smile was to Chenle’s; he was simply a reminder of who you thought Chenle used to be. Nonetheless, you smiled and nodded, gesturing to the hood and taking a step back.

“Please. It’s all yours.”

He worked in silence for a moment, pulling at the machinery inside the bonnet.

“How old is this car?” He asked, and his muffled voice could not disguise the astonishment in his voice.

“Uh, I think the last person to drive it was my Mom, so, that should tell you.” You half joked, awkwardly watching him work until he indicated to you to try again.

You climbed into the car and turned the ignition, and it spluttered again, but this time the spluttering graduated into the unhealthy purring sound you were used to.

You rolled your window down, and called a gracious, ‘thank you!’ out the window, but before you could proceed the short drive to school, the man stopped you, leaning against the side of your car.

“Wait a minute, I want to talk to you about something.” You uncomfortably clutched the steering wheel tighter, raising an eyebrow at him, as if to say, ‘go on.’

“You and Chenle? How’s that going?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in a similar fashion, although his was more teasing where yours was questioning. Your heart leapt as your face warmed.

“Oh - uh. I haven’t really spoken to him since.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised.

“Why?” You asked, trying to discreetly gulp away your nervousness.

“Oh, he’s just been speaking about you a lot more, is all. Have fun at school.” 

Your five-minute drive to school was the most anxiety ridden drive you had ever experienced. What did he mean speaking about you more? He was asking about your relationship so would that suggest Chenle was saying nice things? Did Chenle maybe like you? Of course, the idea of Chenle having any sort of romantic feelings towards you felt nearly laughable at this point, but this glimmer of hope that had remained from the past ten years that maybe, just maybe, you had finally grabbed the attention of those sweet brown eyes simmered in your chest before you could push it away. He had treated you badly, you reminded yourself. You didn’t need him.

You stormed into school that morning, affirming that you did not need Zhong Chenle in your life, and if he did finally notice you, that was not your problem. But the little girl in you who had walked up to the door of your classroom to overhear Chenle say your name insisted on eavesdropping. And who were you to say no to her?

“... That’s the thing, I don’t think I do. I can’t stop thinking about her.” You couldn’t stop instinctual fluttering of your heart. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your previous conclusion that he was not more than the sum of his parts was thrown out of the window and replaced with schoolgirl butterflies.

“You definitely hate her. Think about it, you just feel bad because of the mom thing. And you insulted her house, but I mean come on, it was a mess anyways.” You rolled your eyes. Park Jisung was a self-righteous dick.

“It’s not her fault. Their family is in crazy amounts of debt because her mom had some sort of untreatable illness and she was sick for so long. Do you know apparently she had been sick for like 13 years? It must have been torture on their family.” You had never heard him defend you before, and you couldn’t help the small smile which grew on your face.

“Oh, God, really? Well then, there’s your answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t want to be with someone with that in their family. Dude what if she infects you with it?” Your previously elated heart dropped to your stomach as your face fell. Chenle wasn’t going to let him away with that, was he?

“Oh. Yeah.” He was. Zhong Chenle had the perfect knack of getting your hopes up, and just when your heart had warmed to him again, crushing it, and you were sick of it. You spun on your heel, making your way back out to your car without even thinking about it. You didn’t want to have to look at him.

You thought about the situation as you got ready for dinner that night.  You were sick of this stupid game of cat and mouse, where you inevitably always ended up hurt. And thinking back on the past ten years, Chenle had never been a good friend to you. Ever. He gave away your sheet music, he insulted you and now he was talking about you with his friends as if you were some sort of plague just waiting to infect him. You were sick of it and you were sick of him. Zhong Chenle meant nothing to you anymore.

You had half an idea to march out into the hallway where your father was calling you and tell him that you did not want to go, and he couldn’t make you. You drew together pieces of this declaration in your head before firmly making your way into the hall, entirely ready to tell him where the Zhong family could go, but then you saw his face. He had shaved for the first time in a month, the clothes he wore was ironed and smart, and you could have sworn he smelled better than he had in a while. Your previously parted lips closed again and instead of communicating your desire to be anywhere but the Zhong house, the corners turned slightly, mustering up the most sincere smile you could. You could suck up having to sit opposite Chenle for your family - They had gone through so much recently, you thought maybe you could deal with him for another night. 

Your plans to snub him was momentarily interrupted when you realized, as he stomped down the stairs into the entry way of the house, where your family awkwardly hovered, exchanging greetings with the Zhong family, he had worn your favorite jean jacket, white t-shirt and black jeans combo that used to make you melt at the knees. Like always, it made his dark hair seem darker, but you pushed back the bubbling butterflies. What he had done was unforgiveable.

“Why don’t I show you guys my room?” His sister had emphatically exclaimed to your brothers who glanced to your dad. He gave a disinterested shrug, and the three stomped up past where Chenle came from. “Chenle, sweetie, why don’t you bring (Y/N) up to your room? The adults can talk down here.” His mom suggested.

“No, Mrs. Zhong, it’s okay-” You began, but you didn’t get to finish.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, I know you won’t want to be stuck with the adults. Just no funny business!” You ignored the sly comment which Chenle’s dad mumbled under his breath about, ‘that being unlikely,’ and hesitantly made your way up the stairs, following in Chenle’s footsteps. His house was the exact same as yours - sure his stairs didn’t creak from years of you and your brothers abuse , and it was much sleeker - the black and white modern décor juxtaposed greatly with the warm, yellow tones of your own house, plus the fact they obvious could afford to have their carpet replaced with hardwood floors, but other than that, there was nothing spectacularly upper class about their house that would suggest they had any right to look down on yours. 

His room matched his personality to a tee. With grey-white walls plastered with posters of his favorite musicians and athletes whom you didn’t recognize, the room was small but clean and smelt like him. That familiar citrusy scent you associated with him filled the air, and past you would have been intoxicated by him, but current you knew better.

He sat down on top of the checked black and white duvet cover, (little did you know, he was secretly celebrating the fact he had happened to change the Stephen Curry bed sheets the day before) and gestured for you to sit down beside him. You remained standing.

“Uh- Hi.” He greeted, a softness to his voice you didn’t recognize but nearly succeeded in melting the barricade you had placed around your heart. Nearly. You didn’t respond, staring down at your shoes as if, suddenly your vans were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You look really pretty.” There he was again, trying to get your hopes up only to smash them again. You wouldn’t let him. Not this time.

“I know what you and Jisung were saying about my mom. And I’m done with you, okay? You can stop this act now.” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

Chenle’s face fell, and his head jerked to the side, almost as if you had genuinely slapped him in the face. He looked like a wounded puppy. Why was it so hard to stay angry at him?

“I- Look, (Y/N), it was wrong what Jisung said, I know. I wanted to hit him.” You raised an eyebrow, which sharpened your features and nearly made Chenle melt, both from the radiating heat of your anger and the sheer attractiveness of the action.

“You didn’t say anything to him. You just agreed and laughed. Like a coward.” You replied, simply.

“Yeah - I know. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, but look, I’ve had a recent... self-discovery and I like you, (Y/N). If you could just give me a second chance.” He pleaded, standing up to look at you sincerely. His honest, chestnut eyes did not hold the same rotten core you had seen in them a month ago in the charity shop, but you held your ground nonetheless. “Third chance, you mean. Realistically, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We’ve lived next to each other for 10 years and we’ve had, what, two civil conversations?” Chenle was the one to look down at his feet now, focusing on the hardwood floors. You weren’t wrong - you didn’t really know each other. You relished in the silence as Chenle thought for a moment, before he mumbled,

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you, though.” 

“Well it should.” 

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his mother’s screaming for them to come to dinner. You had turned and left before he even had the opportunity to draw breath and he was left alone in his empty room, which grey walls that had previously been illuminated with the presence of you had dulled in the absence of your vivacity. 

Dinner was a success for the most part, except for the torture of sitting across from you. He bore holes into the side of your head, but you were so skilled in acting as if he wasn’t there, he was starting to question his actual presence at the dinner table; if it were just you and him sitting there, he would have been convinced he was some sort of ghostly apparition.

“So, you paint, right?” His grandfather had directed toward your dad who nodded politely.

“Yeah, I always loved art and - well I couldn’t afford to go to college so I thought why not kill two birds with one stone and do something I love that I don’t need a college education for.” He replied, the bright look on his face when talking about something he loved was so similar to how you used to look at him that Chenle almost felt sick with guilt.

“And you make much money off of that?” His dad had commented, his knife and fork obnoxiously clinking against the plate. Chenle almost sunk down in his chair.

“I make enough.” Your dad replied, stiffly. He spoke how you spoke to him a mere 15 minutes ago.

“Didn’t you used to like art?” His grandfather had asked, turning to his Dad who shrugged, sipping from his expensive wine glass.

“I painted a little.” Chenle had never seen his dad so uncomfortable.

“No, I remember, you wanted to go to art school, right? But my daughter here talked you out of it.” His dad squirmed in his seat as his mother awkwardly laughed, avoiding the topic entirely and asking your dad another question about his job.

The more your dad discussed his ventures into the world of art, the quieter his dad got. He tried to plaster on a smile every now and then, but underneath, Chenle could tell he was sad. He thought about how his dad had always looked down on your family, and the countless times he had referred to your dad as being ridiculous, a low-life who needed to get a ‘proper job.’ He watched the man who had dwindled his life away and wondered, if he was simply angry at himself, as opposed to the kind family across the street. His father was a coward who didn’t chase what he wanted because he was too scared. Chenle swore to himself there and then, that he would not be a coward, like his father. He refused to become the bitter, jealous old man across the street. And so, late that night, after you had all left, he rifled through the papers on his desk and hatched a plan.

Patience and timing were key elements to Chenle’s plan - A month, to be precise. The day of the Christmas talent show. Everyone was excited to watch Chenle perform, especially now that it had been spread that he was dedicating his performance to someone in the audience. Pretty much everyone in the school who was attracted to boys were praying it was them. All except for you, who still hadn’t spoken to him since that fateful night in his bedroom and had resumed your strategic avoidance of him.

He nervously peaked from the side of the stage of the school theatre which had been transformed from it’s boring wood and red velvet into an explosion of tinsel and fairy lights, the excessive Christmas décor almost hurt his eyes. He stared into the audience past Chaeryong’s skillful dancing on stage, despite her optimistic glances towards him, as he clutched sheet music in his hands. He had enlisted Ryujin’s help to ensure that you were sitting in the very middle of the front row, despite her unwillingness. He had to promise her that if he broke your heart again, she had a free pass at kicking him in a very private place. His attention was only broken from the way you hid a laugh as Ryujin whispered into your ear, by Jisung frantically running up to him, whispering as to not to disturb Chaeryong’s performance.

“Dude! There’s a rumor going around that this mystery chick you’re playing for is (Y/N)?” Chenle simply blinked at him.

“And?”

“Is it true?” 

“Yep.” Jisung threw his arms in the air incredulously, whispering as loud as their setting allowed him,

“What the hell is the matter with you! You have every single girl on campus wanting you and you want (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Chenle spun to stare out into the audience again, turning his back to Jisung. “Leave me alone, Jisung. You wouldn’t understand.” He whispered back, watching and clapping as Chaeryong took her bow, exiting at the other side of the stage.

“You’re right! I completely don’t understand! Have you flipped or something?” Chenle ignored him, breathing out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. 

“This is it.” He mumbled, more to himself than Jisung, ignoring his friend who made a last minute attempt to grab him before he walked on stage.

The entire audience sat with bated breath, you included as he sat down at the piano, almost excruciatingly slowly. You stared at your hands, trying not to look up at the stage because you knew that he was probably about to sing some love song to Chaeryong, since his feelings for you had obviously dissipated since that night, and then they would kiss on stage and everyone would be happy for them. You included. Probably. If you were feeling in a particularly positive mood.

“Um, so I’m sure you all know, that I’m dedicating this performance to someone. Which I am, but I’m not going to say who. Yet. They’ll know who they are.” His smooth voice echoed throughout the entire auditorium, officially piquing your interest as you lifted your head up to look at him. He had already moved to face the piano, his fingers - which were unusually shaking - hovered over the keys as he examined the sheet music in front of him, pressing down the first chord.

Your stomach dropped, the familiarity of the scalic motif he played with his right hand causing you to audibly gasp. You hadn’t heard this piece since you were four. You raised a shaking hand to your mouth, ignoring the way Ryujin was almost definitely staring at you with concern. He had kept the sheet music. You had thought all the time, it was in the back of some shop, never to be played again. But here he was, playing your mother’s music in front of the entire school with pride, his skilful fingers dancing from note to note as if it were as simple as breathing, the music enveloping you in a blanket of comfort.

His playing ended too quickly, finishing with a short section you didn’t recognize and ending on a perfect and harmonious cadence. The audience tentatively applauded, the majority - as in everyone but you and Ryujin - more confused than anything, until he walked to the end of the stage, directly in front of you.

“My favorite color is red.” He stated, looking down at you in your chair.

“Wha - What?”

 “I am the worst loser ever. Seriously, if you play a game with me and you win, I will find ways to blame you for making me lose.”

“Chenle, wha-” “You said you didn’t know me, right? I’m terrified of spiders. I love basketball more than football but I’m better at football. You couldn’t pay me to take science the second it isn’t mandatory anymore. I talk in my sleep. I’m crazy ticklish. I would literally die for Stephen Curry. I’ve been an idiotic dick, for lack of a better word, for the last ten years, and if you let me, I would love the chance to get to know you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you stared into those eyes - those once again dazzling eyes which bore into you, no evidence of corruption, the oh-so-familiar sensation of your heart warming to his words blooming in you once again, as if it had never left.

Your smile resonated within him and he questioned what the hell had he been doing the last ten years. How could anyone, ever want to run away from you?

“If you break my heart, Zhong Chenle, you have Ryujin to answer too.”

He chuckled, the sound of his laugh more musical than anything he could’ve produced on stage, and as you watched him, you came to the conclusion that Chenle was more than the sum of his parts, astronomically. You knew that Zhong Chenle was still walking around with your first kiss. But he wouldn’t be for long.

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[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

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Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #liu kang #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #fanfic #drabble #fluff #mk movie #arcana #female reader #reader insert #liu kang x you #kung lao x you #drama #romance #fanfiction #ludi lin #max huang #liu kang/you #kung lao/you #the oncoming storm #angst #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #slow burn

[storybookstalker]

A Helping Hand

 - Author’s Note -

➥ Sorry for my absence! I’ve been struggling with my mental illness and with school a lot so it’s been hard to really keep up with anything. Hopefully this somewhat makes up for some of that time! This is a smallish fic I made for my art trade with @yandere-starchild​ ! I really hope you love it as much as I loved your part of our trade! 

↳ Yandere - Platonic - Bruce Wayne : Batman 

↳ Yandere - Implied - Tim Drake : Red Robin

It’s insanely lucky that she’d managed to get into Gotham High to begin with, especially without having the whole support thing that seemed to come with having parents. Nor any other kind of support network. She didn’t exactly have friends at the school, regardless of how hard she used to try,— not that she had many, to begin with— but she’d like to think that grades were more important than friendship. She’d found somewhat of a friend in some kid named Tim a while back, but he’d gone and dropped out. Not that she blamed him, even if he was weird with how he just suddenly greeted her as if they knew each other one day. No, Ymir would have dropped out a long time ago if she had the choice. The classes were long, tiring, and too early; and forced her to stay up way too late in a cold effort to keep up with the curriculum. She’d zone out in forced attempts to jot down the teacher’s notes, it’d probably be more fun to watch paint dry than do this. The detention from falling asleep in class only led to more trouble with the dean and with her legal guardians, and more falling asleep on cold desks from sheer exhaustion. 

All of this funneling down into why Ymir found herself waiting outside the probably electric, kinda scary looking fence that surrounded the Wayne Manor. Looking back on it, this was most likely a horrible idea. 

The other week she had run into Tim again, quite literally bumping into him and pouring hot coffee onto his nice (and probably expensive—) looking sweater. He didn’t seem to mind all that much surprisingly— despite her embarrassment— and somehow the two ended up chatting like old friends in a booth, bonding over their shared frustration with Gotham High. 

“Y'know, I actually used to be pretty good with your classes! Just lost the motivation to do them.” 

“Haha, yeah I know what you mean,” Ymir agreed, “It’s just really hard to keep up and it doesn’t help that I’m falling behind a bit…” 

That’s when he offered to tutor her. It was a little shocking, considering she had just dumped hot coffee on his nice sweater. His logic was that he’d have to go back to the school eventually, so helping her study would benefit both of them. 

“Besides,” Tim continued, “we should try to get to know each other better.” 

And so, that’s how the very tired girl ended up spending a few days with Tim every week. 

Usually, they’d meet at a library or something but Tim asked to study at his house this week, which led full circle back to her standing in front of Wayne Manor. Ymir probably should have known that Tim was a Wayne long before this point, but apparently, it had never come up. Or, rather she probably just didn’t pick up on it, not that it mattered now. 

Ymir wondered if he had jokingly given her a fake address until the manor’s gate began opening up. Her nervousness only managed to increase the closer she got to the house, not that she could easily turn around with how the gate shut behind her, everything looked way too expensive for her to even be looking at. The front door was even more intimidating; was she supposed to use a different door? Ymir’s dizzying resolve just barely steadied when Tim appeared and greeted her, calling her inside. 

If Tim noticed her awkwardness, he didn’t mention it. He and the manor’s butler, Mr. Pennyworth, seemed to welcome Ymir. Pennyworth, though Tim tried to encourage her to call him Alfred, offered drinks and snacks throughout the study session. The older man would step in to help if either party seemed to have more questions than they could answer but it was mostly just the two teens for the majority of the time. Ymir’s nerves soothed themselves as time went on, by the end of the session she found herself talking to Tim normally. Ymir went home with a smile, maybe she’d found a friend, finally. 

Weeks passed, and while her grades did improve, Ymir’s parents seemed unhappy with the entire situation still. It was hard to enjoy her time with the Waynes when her parents would scold her for having “too much fun”, apparently too happy to be studying as she should be. She was sure Tim noticed it, but vocalizing anything happening would just ruin it more for her.

It wasn’t until Tim had to cancel a study session that all it tipped over. Her confusing relationship with Tim, her parents shoving their expectations down her throat, school— all bundled into a breakdown in front of the Wayne Manor. The constrictive lump in her throat dropped to her stomach when Bruce Wayne himself stepped out from the gate and invited her inside. 

Ymir tried to backtrack, Tim wasn’t there so why would she come in—? 

“Nonsense,” Bruce brushed off her stuttering, “Any friend of Tim’s is always welcome here.” 

He waited for her to follow before leading her into his Manor. In which he sat Ymir down and got water for the teary-eyed student. Bruce explained that Tim had mentioned that she seemed overly stressed, “Which is odd, from what Alfred and Tim tell me you’re doing much better grade-wise.” 

Ymir’s heart dropped to her stomach, she didn’t really want to shove her family issues onto the most wealthy man in Gotham. Especially not after all the help Tim gave her. What kind of a ‘thank you’ is crying and whining? 

Ymir steadied herself, “I am. I’m passing now, I’m grateful for everything Tim’s done for me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce is fine, Ymir. With how often you’re over here you might as well be family.” Bruce smiled, almost in a reassuring way, as if he already knew how overwhelmed she was. “And since you’re basically family, I want you to know that this is a safe place for you. If you need anything, you can tell me.” 

The lack of care from her own parents and the warmth from the Waynes came crashing down on her, hot tears came rolling down her face as she attempted to explain herself. There was no rush from Bruce or Alfred, both of which comforting her in their own ways. 

She spent the next few hours venting out her emotions about her family and school, Bruce offering advice. Tim appeared later on in the evening, inviting her to watch a movie to help calm down after her comfort session with Bruce. 

Meanwhile, Bruce made a call home and ensured that she was allowed to stay over should she want to. The Waynes were more capable of taking care of Ymir, Bruce just had to make sure they could continue to protect her. Not that it would be difficult. With a family like Ymir’s? All he needed to do was pull some strings, her family should be proud to have their daughter be accepted as a ward of Bruce Wayne himself. For now, he was happy to wait until she was comfortable enough to call the Manor her home. 

↳ END ↲

#Yandere DC #Yandere batman #Platonic yandere #yandere Bruce Wayne #Yandere Tim Drake #Yandere Red Robin #Yandere x OC #Yandere x Ymir #I love Yandere-Starchild's OC she's so cute #She was fun to write #yandere writing #yandere

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2800

i started this shit 400 weeks ago.

batshit insane, yknow?

anyway.

i woke up this morning tired still, but in a great mood. as i was taking a shower, i thought to myself, "wow, i woke up in such a good mood. something's gonna hit the fan today."

it did.

i sat down and had a confrontation about religion with my mother. she asked why i stopped going, and i said that for the first time, i realized i could make my own decisions and i could stop doing things i didn't want to do. i didn't want to go to church, so i didn't. there were a lot of things i pointed out to her, like there's a parallel between her telling dad when he says "that's the first i've heard of it" and how that hurts her feelings, when i tell her things that have happened to me and she says "that's not something that happens" that hurts. she said she's never done that. she's done that every time i've talked to her about religion and about why i don't want to go. it ended in me telling her "please don't talk to me about religion anymore. i know this hurts you, but it hurts me more."

she said, "i don't think that's true, because you don't know how much this hurts me."

i replied, "you don't know how much it hurts me."

and i walked out the door.

i headed to joel's. i called a few people on the way.

i called joel to let him know i was on my way, and that i was kind of a mess and completely falling apart. i called andrew, who was the one person i knew would understand, and he told me to breathe, to focus on my breathing. i recognized the feeling of the weight that was sitting on my chest. it's grief. so thanks to his advice i was able to sit with it and stop crying a little bit. i thanked him, and he continued with his day. i called my sister. i told her what happened, about the whole conversation. she pointed out some things, which were very helpful to remember, like not blowing things out of proportion just yet, to understand that mom's just as much of a disaster as all of us, even though it doesn't excuse being shitty and/or gaslighting her kids. she told me that i've always got a place to stay or go if i don't want to go home, and that she's sorry i had to endure that conversation. i told her she'd probably have a better time having that conversation than i would, even though she hasn't really had that conversation with her. ("it's probably because you got out of the house so soon." "i think you're right.") by the time i got to joel's, i was feeling better and laughing at something she said about running a campaign where you're just eight kobolds in a trenchcoat trying to go about a normal day but they're just mental illness characteristics. i said "that sounds hilarious, but that's really just what i go through in any given day."

i stayed with joel for a little bit before we headed out again. he held me and let me cry and tell him about it all and talked to me to keep me calm. it didn't take me too long to not look like i'd been crying for a solid half hour. that was nice.

we headed out to our friend's party, which was actually a lot of fun. it was a surprise party for our friend, who was told it was just a game day, but no, we had cake and cupcakes and brownies and a bunch of food in addition to the games. so i sat and played some games and it was actually really nice to get my mind off of everything for a few hours. before i played the games though i sat and ate a third of an entire ass cake. two-layer 9" cake, vanilla with vanilla frosting, it was really good actually. i ended up learning another person in our greater group of people is also exmo, and suddenly everything makes so much sense. he's kind of the weird uncle but i finally understand why he is the way he is. when i'm with my closest friends, i'm the same way. so that was comforting to learn.

we came back after i finished up my second game when i was tired, and we stopped for gas and i filled my tank, emptied my trash bag, and refilled my wiper fluid. felt good to do something productive.

we got back and joel and i sat in bed and watched the remaining episodes of the book of boba fett. (my phone autocorrected that to "bobs feet." no thanks, bob.) i liked it. remember, just because i like something doesn't mean that it's good. but i liked it.

antsy, it's bedtime and i'm working from home tomorrow and my laptop is at my parents' house, so i'm not entirely looking forward to that, but i have to wash my laundry and pack my shit for a week at joel's.

joel is sleeping soundly beside me. i'm so grateful for him. today more than ever.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2800s #sunshine boy

[angelicyoongie]

the crimson shell

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 1.9k — warnings: mild stalking, near drowning, mentions of eating humans — notes: just wanted to contribute something to mermay! this is also my first time attempting to do anything in the realms of yandere (and mermaids!), so pls be nice lol. in this universe everyone is referred to as a mermaid, no matter what gender they are. this will most likely be a two or three part series with jk growing more and more obsessed as he gets y/n into his scaly clutches :)

Part I / II / III / IIII

— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

You inhale deeply, enjoying the salty smell that so uniquely belongs to the ocean. The last rays of sun are slowly disappearing behind the horizon, painting the skies and the waves in hues of deep pink and purple. You’re going to miss this view.

You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse sand as you let the gentle breeze caress your face. You’ve been looking forward to this for years, but now that your departure is so imminent, it feels more scary than liberating. The time has come to finally leave your home behind, and you feel a pang of regret as you realize you might not see your friends or family for a very long time to come.

Years of saving up your measly paychecks have finally paid off, and you’re setting sail for an island you’ve been hearing constant murmurs about for the last few months. Originally, you were only going to travel to the next kingdom over, hoping to find more suitable work there to help your parents stay afloat. But the talk of the mystery island abundant with riches piped your interest more than you would like to admit – and you’ve never been one to shy away from adventure.

However, you weren’t stupid enough to just blindly trust the rumours milling around your little town. In fact, you wholeheartedly believed it to be a scam until a familiar face suddenly turned up in the town square only a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t seen Jimin ever since he set sail for the unknown six months ago; and so everyone, including yourself, had presumed that your talkative neighbour had met an ill fate, and was floating at the bottom of the sea. You realized you couldn’t have been more wrong when Jimin returned with riches you never expected you would ever lay eyes on, his whole body adorned with various diamonds and gold chains.

It was Jimin who had urged you to seek out the same island, saying he barely even took a handful of all the treasures that were there. He had warned you about a price that would need to be paid, but you weren’t all that concerned. If a sea witch wanted your first born, then fine, you weren’t too keen on children anyway.

You busy yourself with drawing patterns in the sand, lost in your own thoughts as you try to remember your little mental checklist of all the things you wanted to see before you left tomorrow morning. You’re pretty sure this beach was the last one. It’s not much; just a short stretch of sand at the edge of the hill leading up to your family’s cottage, but it has always felt like home.

You come here every evening without fail, using the time to relax and breathe. The last month has felt a little different though, even if you don’t like to admit it. You’ve always stayed on the beach quite late, there’s nothing you know of that can rival the starry sky that appears once the sun had set. But lately, you’ve found yourself retreating back up the hill before the night could fully greet you.

It feels like you’re being watched.

It’s silly of course, considering the only thing in front of you is the quiet ocean. You would have noticed if there was something there, but still, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is out there – observing you.

It always happens so suddenly; one second you’ll be merely enjoying the view, and in the next, a sense of dread would knock into you so hard it left you breathless. It would make your neck feel tight, as if someone was gripping your skin, and the hair on your arms would rise in alarm.

Even just the memory is enough to give you goosebumps, and you let out an annoyed huff at how easily you seem to be able to scare yourself. You dust the sand off your hands before you rub them up and down your arms, trying to calm down the twinge of anxiety that’s slowly spreading through your body.

You don’t want to remember your last night here as something uncomfortable, so you let your gaze sweep over the beach one last time.

Something catches your eye just as you’re about to turn. Something red is ebbing and flowing along with the waves, and you hesitantly step forward until you can see it clearer. It’s nothing more than a pretty shell, but you’ve never seen that tone of red before. You snatch it up from the water before the tide can pull it out, slowly turning it back and forth to study it. The last sliver of light seems to catch on to it just right, giving the red a gorgeous golden shimmer.

You let out a low gasp of wonder, trailing your fingers along the scalloped pattern. It’s stunning, and you can’t help but think that it’s the beach’s way of saying its last goodbye. Maybe it was giving you a parting gift.

You clutch the shell gently in your hand, a soft ‘thank you’ slipping past your lips as you watch the ocean fondly. You notice a few sudden ripples in the quiet sea a little further out from the beach, but it has started to grow so dark that it’s impossible to make out anything below the soft waves. Chalking it up to just being fish, you shrug it off, finally turning on your heel to walk back up the hill to your family’s little cottage.

--

You’ve officially been on the sea for a week, and you’ve already grown tired. The small group of fellow villagers that you left with have already started getting on your nerves, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it all the way to the island and back without going insane. Jimin said you would need to travel north for about two weeks, so you try to find solace in the fact that you’re halfway there already.

The journey so far has been pretty smooth, but the dark clouds on the horizon seem to be rolling towards you at an alarming speed. You dig into the pocket of your trousers, finding comfort in running your fingers along the shell you found on your beach. You can only hope it serves as a token of good luck, because the storm heading straight for you really doesn’t look good at all.  

It feels like you only blink before the rain is pelting down against the ship, harsh waves tossing the wooden boat back and forth to its whims. You’re clinging on the side with all of your might, but the floor has turned wet and slippery, and it makes it even harder to stay on board with all the vicious tossing and turning.

You feel the electricity before it hits, the static making your hair stand up straight right before a bolt of lightning slams into the mast. You can barely hear the loud creak of wood over the screams from the other travellers, you gaze transfixed on the large wooden pole as it starts tipping.

You’re frozen in place; all of your muscles locking up in terror as you realize the mast is coming straight at you. You’ll be crushed in you don’t move, but you can’t. You close your eyes instinctively as the looming shadow rushes towards you, harshly sucking in one last breath of air. You feel the ship lurch, and your fingers slip from the bars you were clinging to as you’re tossed overboard.

A blanket of silence wraps around you the moment you hit the water, all of the screaming and creaking of wood suddenly ceasing as the cold liquid mercilessly drags you downwards. You can see the shadow of the ship growing smaller and smaller, your last breath escaping you as it bubbles up towards the surface.

You flail your hands desperately, your body too low on air to properly function. Swim, swim, swim! Your mind is screaming, but your heart has already accepted the rush of water filling your lungs, and the heavy feeling in your bones.

Your vision grows hazy, the blues and greys of the ocean blurring together. A streak of red suddenly breezes by your line of sight, but your tired brain only managing to provide you with the fleeting thought of fish? before the exhaustion truly sets in. You can hear a low series of muddled clicking noises all around you, but it only seems to make you even more drowsy.

Sleep, a deep voice whispers in the back of your mind. And slowly but surely, all of the mixed colours fade into nothingness.

--

It wasn’t that hard for the mermaid to steer your ship in the wrong direction. The ship was in his waters, under his control, and the storm that suddenly picked up in the northeast presented itself like the perfect opportunity.

He had been trailing after your ship ever since it left the dock, making sure he could strike at the right moment. He couldn’t believe the weird creature he had been watching for months was finally coming willingly to him, but it was only right considering you had accepted his courting gift.

And now, as you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, you were finally his. The mermaid circled you excitedly at a distance as your limbs flailed around underwater. He tried to tell you to calm down – that the fight against his ocean was futile – but you just wouldn’t stop trying.

The mermaid bristled in annoyance, his crimson tail cutting through the sea harshly as he watched the stupid creature fight a losing battle. He needed to take it home now, before his brothers could realize it was here.

Finally, your body stopped moving. The mermaid quickly closed in, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he stared into your unfocused eyes. While he didn’t exactly know what you were, and why you had one limb too many, he had at least gathered enough information to understand that you needed to breathe in that pesky air in order to survive.

He pushed up, letting the currents easily carry him up towards the surface. Of course, he made sure to emerge far from the sinking ship. While the gurgling screams usually were music to his ears – he couldn’t keep you too close to the food. His brothers would be here in no time to feast, and he couldn’t let his new pet be swallowed up before he even had a chance to play with it.

The creature sucked in a shuddering breath as oxygen finally flowed through its veins again. It didn’t take long before all his precious water was being expelled from the creature’s lungs, the mermaid watching in displeasure as it was replaced with that wretched air instead. It just seemed so .. inconvenient.

You didn’t wake however, the near drowning having swept away all of your energy. The mermaid threw one last look towards the remains of the ship, thin lips curling into a pout as the gurgling was replaced by bloody shrieks. He was hungry too, but it seemed like it would have to wait until his pet was out of harm’s way.

Well, at least until it was out of his brothers’ way. The mermaid didn’t like making promises he wasn’t certain he could keep.

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #mermaid jungkook #jungkook x reader #yandere bts #yandere au #yandere jungkook #jungkook au #bts au #bts fanfic #bts #yandere x reader