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ahgasegotarmy116 · 26 days

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The Art of Etiquette Part 8 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Finishing up your shopping trip goes off without a hitch but Jungkook reminds you of what's going on between you two Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Explicit and suggestive language but nothing crazy lol a/n: This took me literally forever to get out and I'm so sorry but I hope it was worth the wait. I wanted to wrap up this trip quickly and move on but I like the thought of them shopping together so I hope you guys do too! p.s. barely edited as always lol Start from the beginning

After finishing our lunch and finally finding the perfect dress for the event, Jungkook and I head off on our next adventure, bidding adieu to Genevieve once again.

"So, what's next on the list?" I question after he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Well what's a beautiful girl in a beautiful gown without a beautiful pair of shoes and jewelry to match?" he teases and continues on our journey to wherever he has in mind.

"I guess you're right" I say, sinking into my seat and trying my best not to melt from his compliments.

He hands me the aux again giving me free reign of the soundtrack of our journey and I play some random choices that have been my current favorites which also happen to be some of his as well.

"Seems like we're a lot more similar than I thought we were" I laugh after having sung along to boyfriend by Ariana Grande. "What makes you say that?" he says turning down the volume a bit. "Well we like some of the same music, we like the same foods, we both hated a majority of those dresses I tried on" I list off leaving him chuckling a bit at the last one.

"Can you blame me? You looked like a glorified ballerina in half of those and the others just looked way too painful to wear for a few minutes let alone a few hours" he says and I respect his honesty.

"I'm glad we found 'The One' eventually" I say in quotations, still not 100% sold on it yet. "You didn't like it?" he asks, looking genuinely concerned. "If you didn't like it we could've talked to her and seen if she could've ordered a different one" he says, quickly showing me that there's time to change things if I'm still unsure.

"No, no the dress is fine it's just...well I haven't ever worn a gown like that before. The closest thing I could think of would be a dress I wore to a school dance but that obviously was no where near as expensive as that one" I ramble leaving him chuckling at my nervousness.

"What's so funny?" I ask, furrowing my brow and demanding an explanation. "It's just that you look adorable" he chuckles leaving me groaning and sinking back into my chair. "Hey I'm serious you looked very beautiful in the dress and I promise you're gonna look stunning at the event as well" he assures, trying to lift my spirits and it does the trick thankfully.

'Who am I to doubt a gorgeous man's words of praise? I just I- What? I- Okay I need to stop thinking about him like that but it's hard not to when he keeps on calling me beautiful and gorgeous and ugh I'm doomed' I scold myself, leaving me averting my vision from him to take in the beautiful view outside my window, just now realizing in how truly gorgeous it looks out here.

"Everything okay?" he asks, noticing my clear shift in demeanor and I quickly try to clear things up without making things even more awkward. "Yeah no I'm fine. I feel like I never really looked outside my window on this drive since I was sleeping the first time we came here" I explain, hoping he'll accept that as an answer and although he looks suspicious he lets it go.

"You know, I've been out here so many times that I've forgotten to look around as well. It's a nice drive for sure" he agrees and we sit there for a while, going down the highway and listening to the slow hum of my playlist in the background.

~~~~~

As we get closer to the city I realize that I still have no clue where we're going to get these accessories he had mentioned but I didn't think we would be going to a little couture boutique that I've never bothered setting foot inside. Simply knowing for a fact I would never be able to afford anything.

"You sure we should start there? I mean I'm sure there are a lot more affordable places close by" I say, trying to back my way out of it but he gently guides me inside and nods his head politely in greeting to the sales women there as we walk through the doors.

"James wants you to have the best of the best and feel confident at your first outing so he wanted us to start at the top. Just take a deep breath and don't look at the prices alright" he coaches before leaving me to wander around in search of the perfect shoes when unbeknownst to me he's already gotten one of the ladies headed to the back to grab a few pairs that might match the dress.

"You're size eight in heels correct?" he asks, putting on an heir of sophistication since we're no longer alone. "Correct" I answer as I look at the various colors, styles and flashiness of all the items around me as I make my way further and further into the store.

"Mr. Jeon?" the woman calls for him and he leads me over to where she's placed the various pairs that he thought might've been suitable for the occasion.

"See any you like?" he asks, watching as I observe the array he had chosen and I pick a plain black pair to start. "These seem nice" I say as I try it on for size and notice they're a tad too tight. "You think they would match the dress well though?" he questions and when I think back to it I realize that we should probably keep looking.

~~~~~~

After trying on a dozen more I feel as though we'll never find the right ones until I notice a pair that's on display in the front window. "What about those ones?" I ask, pointing to them and he waves the woman down that had been helping us and she nods before going to retrieve them for me.

"You're in luck Miss, these are the last pair we have. They are a half size small but go ahead and try them on" she says, placing the box down on the bench beside me.

When I go to take them out Jungkook places his hand on top of mine and I pause, looking over at him to question his motives. "Allow me?" he offers and I nod my head, caught off guard but letting him do as he pleases.

He takes off the last pair I had just tried on and slips the first shoe on with ease, almost as if they had been made for me. Once he's gotten the other shoe on as well he steps back and holds out his hand, asking me to stand up and walk around in this last hopeful pair. I do as I had done time and time again this but lose my footing as I take my first step.

"Woah there" he says, letting me fall into his chest, avoiding any further injury for the day. "Are you alright?" he asks and when I lean back to respond my breath catches in my throat, nudging my nose against his.

"I- um yeah, yes I'm fine" I stammer after having stared at his lips for a beat too long, stepping back and again losing my footing leaving him having to grab me by my hips to steady me again. "Maybe we should take a break from the shoes for the day" he chuckles and I look down at my feet with an excuse of checking out the heels like I had before but noticing that these might actually work.

Taking a closer look in the mirror I watch myself walk up to it and notice that for once I don't look like a baby gazelle learning how to walk for the first time while also realizing that the color and style matches somehow perfectly after having seen them up close.

I turn to look back at Jungkook and see a satisfied smile, knowing that we've found the ones. "Those it?" he questions, still leaving the choice up to me and I smile and nod, loving the fact that our efforts were not in vain.

He makes a nod at the sales woman, asking her to ring them up while he walks up behind me. Looking at our reflection I notice that although these heels are a tad bit higher than my usual ones he's still taller which makes them even more perfect.

"You tired?" he asks, placing a hand on my hip after taking in the sight of the both of us and guiding me back over to the bench so I can finally put my own shoes back on, leaving me thanking my past self for wearing boots instead of some sort of heel as well.

"A little" I say after having slipped my feet back into the boots, standing up and yet again losing my footing, this time only giving Jungkook the chance to grab onto my hand as I thankfully sit right back down on the bench instead of landing on the floor.

"Tried on one too many huh?" he laughs, holding my hand to now aide in steading my balance from the start making me smile awkwardly in thanks for him yet again saving me from my clumsy self. "Yeah maybe" I laugh, picking up my bag and we slowly make our way over to the counter where he pays without bothering to ask for a price.

"How much were they?" I ask, trying to look over his shoulder to see if I could catch sight of it but before I'm able to the transaction has gone through and they're holding out the bag for one of us to take and Jungkook swiftly receives it before taking ahold of my hand again and thanking the staff as we make our way to the next store.

"Don't worry about it" he says and guides us aimlessly towards the place I could only assume is to find the jewelry to pull everything together. "What do you mean don't worry about it? I'm sure they were really expensive" I argue but that gets me no closer to getting the price than if I would've stayed silent.

"The invoice will be sent to Matthew and will be charged to James so don't worry about it" he says, assuring me that although he paid this isn't coming out of his pocket. "Fine" I huff and follow him blindlessly before stopping in my tracks in front of the next store.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking back at me as we've still got our hands connected leaving him stopping as well. "Jungkook this is Cartier like Cartier the luxury jewelry brand" I say, stunned at even the thought of owning something as expensive as what I might find there.

"I am aware. Would you prefer to go to Tiffany instead?" he asks, pointing out the Tiffany blue store just a few doors down. "No! I mean no, it's just that this is all so expensive I feel like I could get away with wearing something a lot less pricey than this" I say, trying to explain my way out of adding another dollar to what I assume is the already exorbitant total.

"Like I said, James wants the best for you and I'm sure your mother is going to enjoy looking at the pieces you've gotten as well" he says placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me in again were we're met with an overwhelming amount of silver and gold and everything in between all enclosed in glass cases.

"I think these would be perfect thank you" Jungkook says after we've agreed upon a set that would again match the dress but isn't too crazy flashy so it couldn't be used again.

"Are we all done?" I question, not being able to think of another thing that we could possibly need. "We just need to make one more stop" he says and I nod my head, going with the flow since against my best efforts I haven't been able to convince him to stop spending more and more money on me.

"I thought we were done with the jewelry shopping" I say, as we walk towards the Tiffany store he had mentioned before. "James wanted to get you one last thing as some sort of a thank you for being a good sport and going through all of these lessons or something like that. Anyways he already ordered it so we just need to pick it up" he says and I nod my head, following him in.

Wandering around the store while he talks to the employee about said gift I find myself staring at one necklace in particular and being fascinated by it's simplistic yet elegant look. "Find something you like?" Jungkook whispers in my ear leaving me flinching and taking a step back bumping into him in the process.

"Stop doing that" I groan and he laughs before leaning in and checking out the case trying to follow my line of sight. "Excuse me, can she try on this necklace?" Jungkook asks, calling the man over that he had spoken to earlier and he nods and makes his way behind to counter we're standing at.

"I was just looking" I try to deny him but he nevertheless nods when the man points to the silver necklace with the small teardrop shaped diamond pendant. He hands it to Jungkook and I look down at it in his hand and see that it looks even prettier up close.

"You sure you don't wanna try it on?" he asks with a knowing smile and I give him a bashful one back before he nods his head towards the mirror sitting on the courter. I turn around to face it while moving my hair out of the way so he can put it on for me and I immediately fall in love with it.

He watches my eyes light up in the reflection and nods to the salesman to ring us up for this one as well before even giving me a chance to refuse. I look at the necklace for a while longer, taking in how it looks at different angles and am shocked at how much a small little diamond like that could shine so bright and before I'm able to say a word to him about giving it back he's asking me if I'm ready to go.

"Let me just give this back and I'll be right there" I say, reaching around my neck to take it off but he walks up and takes my hands down and shakes his head.

"No, James already got me something from here. I couldn't possibly get another piece as well. I feel as if I'm taking advantage of his kindness" I say, feeling more and more guilty as I imagine how many zeros have been added to the total for this stupid ball.

"You're not taking advantage of it I promise. Trust me, if anyone else in your position was given free reign to get whatever they thought they 'needed' for one event they probably would've maxed out the card before leaving the first store" he jokes and I smile at his efforts, still feeling incredibly guilty.

"Okay" I mouth silently and he holds out his hand, leading me out of the store again.

"Jungkook" I call for his attention, curious about something. "Yes?" he answers, stopping so he can look at me properly while I speak to him. "Why have you been holding my hand so much today?" I ask him, leaving him loosening his hold but me tightening mine in response making his worried expression that was once there disappear.

"I just thought it would be easier for you to follow me especially since it's been a bit crowded today. I didn't want to lose you" he says, looking down at our conjoined hands and smiling, seeing how I have no intention of letting go.

"Well it's not crowded anymore" I say, looking around at the path we had once traveled. "Sorry I guess it was just a reflex of mine I did not mean to-" "It's fine. I was just teasing you" I say, squeezing his hand, switching roles and leading him to where his car is parked.

"We're going home right?" I ask and without realizing it the simple words had made his heart flutter a bit leaving him clearing his throat before responding. "Yes, I assume your mother is waiting for you to come home for dinner so I'll go ahead and drop you off now if you'd like?" he asks, leaving it open ended as if he wanted to spend more time together.

"Oh was there something else we had to do?" I ask, curious to see if he had something in mind. "No nothing, I just thought you might've wanted to get a coat or shall of some sort since the weather is still rather cold these days" he says, no doubt coming up with an excuse to cover up his motives.

"Sure, I'd love that" I say, smiling up at him and notice how red the tips of his ears have gotten, making me even more happy I said yes to staying with him a while longer.

He smiles in response and leads us to the first store he can think of that might have something I'd like and as we go through rack by rack we get to talking more casually and before we know it the stores are about to close.

"Let's get you home" he says walking us back to his car where he opens the door for me yet again before driving off.

~~~~~~

"Thank you so much for all of your help today. I feel as though I would've been lost without you" I admit as we pull up to my house. "I am aware" he says, giving me a mischievous smile before getting out of the car to open the door for me again.

"Hey! I was trying to be nice and then you go and act al-" "All what?" he teases, cutting me off as he helps me out of the car, leaning against it and trapping me, granting me little to no room to escape even if I tried. "All cocky" I say, lifting my chin up and being confident in my words, full well knowing I'm melting on the inside.

"Is that so? I guess we've skipped the lesson of getting rid of that dirty little mouth of yours now haven't we?" he taunts, cocking a brow at me and it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and suck him off right now.

I nod my head and he tongues his cheek before glancing down at my lips and pushing off the car, giving me room to breathe only for a moment before pulling me into him, moving me out of the way so he can close the passenger door behind me.

"Let's get you inside. It's past your bedtime Princess" he rasps in my ear before letting go of me and walking towards my house leaving me standing there speechless, leaving me standing there for a minute, trying to take in everything that just transpired.

'Princess? Where does he get off calling me Princess and why the hell did it make me want him even more? I swear this man is trying to kill me' I think to myself before he calls after me telling me to hurry up.

"Coming!" I say and mentally curse myself, 'Really? Out of all the things you could've said you said that?' and I can tell that Jungkook's thinking the same thing as he grants me with another cheeky smile before knocking on the front door.

One of the maids answers the door and Jungkook asks her if there's someone who can get all the bags out of the car and she scurries off and grabs someone to do so.

"Oh there you are! I thought you would've been back ages ago!" my mother says as she walks up to us, clearly more excited to see Jungkook than she is to see me. "She didn't give you any trouble did she?" she asks, giving me a once over before turning her attention back to him.

"No, on the contrary she was itching to finish up sooner but I wanted to make sure we had everything she needed before bringing her home. It's been a pleasure spending time with her outside of the classroom and helping make sure she's more than ready for the ball" he says, merely glancing at my mother before looking back at me, my eyes going back and forth between the two of them, feeling shy under his gaze again.

I swear he always does this right before he leaves because he likes to watch me squirm. What happened to the pure kind man that I had just been with today? Now suddenly replaced by the devilish tempter just daring me to make a move on him.

After my mother has thanked him and tried to persuade him to come in for a while with him trying to refuse and I come to his aide and shoo my mother away.

"Mom I think I've taken up more than enough of his time today don't you? I'll walk you out" I say quickly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out while he says his goodbyes to her.

"You trying to get rid of me?" he teases, amused by my hurried solution to ending the conversation. "No I just figured there must be something better for you to do than deal with my mother and her antics" I say and he chuckles in response only stopping when I've finished dragging him all the way to the driver's side of his car.

"Thank you for everything today, really" I say looking down at the gravel under our feet, holding my breath and waiting for that cocky response again but it never comes. "It was truly a pleasure I assure you of that" he says, hooking a finger under my chin to bring my eyes up to him.

My eyes dart back and forth between his and he leans in again just as he did last night this time giving me an almost featherlight kiss, hardly anything more than brushing his lips against mine, making my breath hitch, frozen and spellbound by his touch.

"Goodnight Princess" he says against my lips, still barely there but enough to feel his touch as his breath warms my lips, feeling frozen once he's pulled away and sat down in his car.

"G-goodnight Mr. Jeon" I let out, barely able to break free from the mental hold he has on me making him chuckle at my reaction before giving me once last glance. Dragging his eyes up and down my form before pulling out of the driveway, leaving me feeling utterly naked under his heated gaze.

As I walk back up I see my mother scurrying down the hallway, no doubt trying to hide the fact that she had been spying on us but I wouldn't expect anything less from her.

No matter how much she tries to hide it at the end of the day she's really just a busybody that loves to gossip but I've grown tired of it. Not even bothering to care if she sees. With the way Jungkook and I have been playing this push and pull for a while it'll only be a matter of time before we end up together.

Or at least I hope we do...

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fromabasementonthehilll · 8 months

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Something Good

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: smoking with Nat

Pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

Warnings: ...

a/n: listened to the lis soundtrack while writing this 😙

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

A song played, fuzzy across Natalie's bedroom from her distorted cassette player. She took another soft hit from her blunt, lying on her bed and tapping her finger against her arm to the beat.

You first talked to Natalie at practice, shyly coming up to her to ask her if she 'had any weed' for your 'sleep problems'. You didn't want it getting out, you didn't want it tarnishing your reputation, and she agreed, though obviously just slightly hurt. Sometimes you'd come around her place so she could give you her 'care packages', and today you stayed for longer than anticipated.

"Care for some?" She offered you the blunt, looking up at you through her lashes, you got up from your spot on the floor, crossing your legs on her bed and snatching it from her, "mhm." You put your lips to it nonchalantly, watching her sit up and laugh, "I didn't know you'd actually say yes." She peered at you as you exhaled, "well, you don't know a lot of things about me." You joked, taunting your head. "Like what?" She raised an eyebrow, getting closer and taking the blunt back. Maybe it was just nerves - doing something illegal for the first time in your life, but you felt a small nervousness in your body when she'd talk to you, and butterflies in your stomach when she'd give you a jokey 'you look hot today'. Sometimes your body would tense up, jaw aching and knuckles stiff; when she'd bring up one of her guy friends. But then again, you were a naturally anxious person, it was something you'd brushed off, I mean, hormones and all, right?

"I guess you'll have to find out, hmm?" You smiled at her with reddish, tired eyes and messy hair. She messed your hair up further, muttering something along the lines of 'dumbass' before getting up to change the song. She wore loose jeans and a plain black top, which you found weirdly complimented her, and you wore whatever you usually did, not finding the energy to put together a fancy outfit.

Last week Natalie had some sort of epiphany, a realisation. You weren't just a smoke buddy to her, you were something special; she could feel it, and she struggled like a little kid trying to decipher a math problem - head in her palms sitting crossed legged on her bed every morning before seeing you at school. No, it wasn't that serious, it never was, but to her the world spun a hundred times faster just thinking about you, how would she even make the first move? She had nobody to talk to, nowhere to go, and so one day after practice her and Van made small talk, and she took it as an opportunity to let it all out.

"What do you mean you like someone? Just tell them! It's hasn't stopped you before, huh?" Van insisted, knowing how nonchalant Natalie was in general. "We're not close, though. I mean, if you were there, you'd know what I mean, you could.. feel it, in the air." Her mind trailed off, finding loss of meaning in her words.

"But oh, god, am I just stupid to think that?"

Today was one of the scariest days for her, seeing you after a long time thinking about it all. But for you, today was just like every other weekend.

You had laid down by now, staring up at her ceiling with your hands on your chest, feeling the weed take slight effect. "Wanna pick?" She called out from afar, with a rather monotone voice, kneeling down to her cassette and CD rack, a faint sound of her putting out the blunt was heard. Last week she invited you into her trailer, telling you she had to 'get the weed out', and she ended up showing you some of her favourite songs. "That mixtape you've got, the one you played for me, put that on." You said, still resting your eyes on the blank ceiling, the setting sun rays peaking out of her blinds and onto your hair. She held the cassette up, "this one?" And you finally got up to look, nodding your head. She smiled to herself, remembering how your mouth hung open each time a song you liked came on, "no fucking way.. I love this song?!" Which prompted Natalie to make a mixtape for you, though it still lied somewhere in her closet.

She sat back down on the bed giddily, watching you up and down with slightly squinting eyes. "What?" You laughed like a child, staring back at her - her newly bleached and cut hair falling onto her cheek, a rosy tint grazing her warm face, and a ray of sunlight caressing her hands as they rested by her sides, thumb slowly consoling her uncertainty. "Nothing it's just.." she let out a toothy smile, gaze averting to her knees. Your eyebrows raised, with remaining soft yet deadpan eyes, "you look pretty, is all." She finished, looking back at you with a little more blush on her than before, though her signature confidence still lingered.

You smiled, then chuckled slightly, your eyes getting heavier with every second, and Natalie's anticipation growing more anxious and less confident with every second. The laughter quieted down, and you bit your lip - squinting at her through the smoke made visible by the sunlight. "You're not too bad yourself." You remarked, and she slapped your shoulder in return, "hey!" Natalie's eyebrows upturned slightly at your words, unsure of what you were really thinking.

From what you knew of Natalie, she always said what she was thinking with assertiveness, and her fortitude was astounding.

You rarely caught her being nervous or unsure, even when she was bouncing her leg up and down in class it was out of boredom, not stress. And so seeing her swallow her words was out of the ordinary, it slightly unsettled you.

"Nat, what's up?" You perked up, a slight smirk still on your face. The bedsheets were messed up, her room was scattered, the ashtray fell onto the floor and you both ignored it - but somehow it felt perfect, it was exactly where you wanted to be.

"Nothing nothing.." she brushed off with a slight grin, looking toward you before running to the kitchen, and you knew exactly what she was doing, she was getting the last beer. You ran after her, only a drop left in your bottle, and your mouth felt dry - it was midsummer Sunday and walking to the gas station for more drinks just wasn't on your bucket list.

By the time you got there she was closing the fridge, leaning on the kitchen counter with a bottle opener and the beer, menacingly taking a sip before almost spitting it out in laughter seeing your distraught face, your lip just hung out as you blinked slowly. "Hey, don't be pissed, you can have some." She held it in the air, and as you reached out to grab it she instantly took it back, "loser.." she muttered, "what was that?" You interrogated, hands on your hips. "I said, you're a-" you quickly snatched the bottle out of her hands and ran back to her bedroom, feet rushing down her old carpet. You heard her shout something from afar with nearing footsteps as you giggled breathlessly, coming to a stop and soon realising that you were cornered in her room. She stood before you with a sarcastically disappointed expression as you took one big, taunting and refreshing sip before trying to run off again, though she had abruptly stopped you, grabbing your waist and pinning you to her carpeted floor.

"Shit!" She laughed, picking up the spilled bottle as her knees were on either side of you. Natalie turned to you, eyes excited, hands unknowingly pinning yours to the ground.

It was all so fast, how she kissed you. She was still breathless, breathing in through her nose while her mouth was finding yours, her hands ambling from your held wrists to your palms, intertwining with your fingers as you kissed her back before she could pull away. You felt sparks, softness and serenity, a sort of clarity that you needed; that you lacked.

Eventually she let go of you completely, her face changing from warmth to shock, "I- I'm so sorry.." her eyes paced around the room, your hand reached up to her cheek, pulling her back down before she could get up. You could feel her frown form a smile, and your bottom lip catching onto her teeth with the most gentle grasp. You giggled into the kiss, feeling her every emotion like it was your own, tasting the traces of weed in her mouth and smelling it on her shirt that hung over you.

"Okay," you got up, an upbeat song finally coming on, "dance with me." You were just as confused as any other person your age, one dollar to your name, not a care in the world, and Natalie was the same, but so different at the same time. You two just fit together, even if you only knew each other for a few months.

"I'm not that much of a dancer," she grinned in awe, you grabbed her hand, not listening to her, "okay, okay.. fine." she slowly eased in, your body moved along to the beat, and eventually the two of you were jumping around her entire room - hair flipping backwards, forwards and sideways, genuine laughter filling the air. You sang along to the song, looking into her eyes for a moment, before her trailer door swung open and a drunken woman came in; Natalie's Mom.

The song was instantly turned off, but Nat didn't want to deal with any of it. This was new, it was special and worth saving, you were special, she didn't want you seeing her mother, and getting the wrong impression, "fuck this." She muttered, dragging a confused you, in the middle of fixing your hair, out of her window and to wherever she was taking you.

Soon it started pouring, your hair drenched and sticking to your face. The both of you hid under the roof of an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, Natalie quickly noticed how cold you were - practically shivering. It wasn't that cold at all, though the slightest sign of bad weather made you shiver.

"Here." She quickly took her hoodie off, wrapping it around you. "I'm sorry - for all of that." She laughed shyly, afraid to look you in the eye, afraid that she ruined one of the first true impressions of herself to you. The first thing you did besides buy weed from her was run away from her mom in the pouring rain, and god, it stressed her out, but you weren't phased at all - you liked her, seeing this side of Natalie; it was different.

"What? No, don't worry, really." You smiled warmly, easing her unease and adjusting the hoodie on your shoulders and unnoticeably getting closer to her. As much as she didn't want to ruin this, she wanted to be honest, to be open with someone - even if it was a risk, and she weirdly felt at peace with you, the sting in her heart when something went wrong wasn't there.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes and waiting for the rain to end. Her hand confidently wrapped around your shoulder, smiling to herself, closing her eyes too shortly after.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets oneshot #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat x reader #natalie scatorccio

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jezebelgoldstone · 10 months

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RRR (2022, dir S. S. Rajamouli)

things i am not now and likely never will get over from RRR

DRIFT COMPATIBLE BATTLE COUPLE DETECTED

queer? platonic? queerplatonic? who gives a shit no matter what it was it was AWESOME

Colonialism Is Bad Actually: The Musical

the symbolism. holy shit. every BIT of it was absolutely amazing.

wow all the mains in this movie are just, really hot? my poor lil pan heart had a rough time with this one ngl

the fact that someone (likely many someones) watched this movie about Colonialism Is Bad Actually and said 'you know what let's dub this whole thing into Hindi and English and then not give an option to watch it with the original Telugu dialogue' sure was,,,,,,,,, A Choice

THE MUSIC

by which i mean the actual song-and-dance numbers as well as the like story soundtrack all of it is going on my playlist asap

listen the spirk-behind-glass scene is awful. spock and kirk can't even touch. they can hear. they can see. but they cannot touch. and i in my sweet ignorant bliss thought that was as bad as it could get.

tonight i learned that holding someone in your arms through the bars of their cell is so much worse

I watched it on Netflix but i looked it up on a few other ahem websites and on EVERY SINGLE ONE Telugu audio wasn't even an option.

there was not one single chance to tie things together or make a connection or do a setup/payoff or callback that was not taken. not a single one.

everything about this movie is 100% Extra

in short: this movie is a masterclass

aaaaaand the rest below a cut because WOW i have a lot to say actually

which brings me to the dancing oh my gods. not sure i've ever seen such enthusiastic dancing in anything in my entire life. seriously by the final number i was exhausted just watching them

in general, this movie is: stunning

"RAM." "BHEEM." "SEETHA." IT'S ABOUT THE SYMBOLISM.

also this was kinda hilarious because i watched it in hindi [the least disorienting option] and they kept SAYING "ram" but in the subs it was always fuckin RAJU so like. again with the Choices. like seriously what was the thought process there. WAS there a thought process.

FIRE. WATER. STORY. I JUST. I. HELP ME.

i ADORED jenny. with my whole entire heart. she is one of the very BEST examples of Ignorance Is A Privilege and also At What Point Does Ignorance Become Malicious that i have ever ever seen. i loooooooooved it. i mean i hated it a whole lot while it was happening but also i am SO GLAD that now rather than trying to explain all of this to people i can just tell them to watch this movie and then sit them down and be like, so what are your thoughts on jenny's culpability in literally everything?

oh and how you can be a kind person and still do atrocities! like jenny is so sweet and so kind and you just like her so much and yet. and yet.

t h e s y m b o l i s m

i cannot remember the last time i saw a movie so visually stunning. the cinematography is breathtaking. pause on just about any random frame and it could be a movie poster or hanging in an art gallery or what have you.

they also dubbed all the lines that were actually in english? i mean i get it for the characters who spent most of the movie speaking Telugu because you'd need their voices to stay the same through the whole movie yeah fine whatever. but like. they dubbed all the ENGLISH characters, too? like literally dubbed them from english into english??? the dialogue matched their mouths except the timing was veeeery sliiiiiiiightly off but it SOUNDED really obviously dubbed??? Y THO???

HOLY SHIT THE FIGHT SCENES OH MY GODS

Malli. Malli honey i love you. i'm just realizing i don't know if that's your actual name gods damn it. but whatever your name is child i love you.

and did i mention that everyone in this movie is beautiful? like. seriously. Ram and Bheem especially holy SHIT.

Physics Does Not Work Like That And I Do Not Care Because That Was AWESOME: The Musical

oooohhhhh they re-recorded and dubbed the fucking SONGS too. i am so pissed about this y'all i can't even tell you.

oh i want to do a whole entire post that's even longer than this one about the symbolism. hell i could probably do a whole entire post just on the fire/water symbolism even without everything else. It was AMAZING.

okay ram is fire and bheem is water and ram's people go to a valley on the shores of a river and the river is in literally every shot of the village and just ram BEING fire but water being a place of HOME and SAFETY for ram

i'm not crying shut up

MALLI AND HER MOTHER TRY TO REACH EACH OTHER BUT THEY CANNOT TOUCH THROUGH THE GLASS

BHEEM AND MALLI HOLD EACH OTHER THROUGH THE BARS OF HER CONFINEMENT AND HE HAS TO LET GO AND LEAVE HER

BHEEM AND RAM HOLD EACH OTHER THROUGH THE BARS OF HIS CONFINEMENT AND BHEEM RIPS THE DOOR RIGHT OFF

ooooooohhhhhhh and people holding hands right before they part. oh that hurts. all of those hurt so bad.

how every single time people held hands when they parted they always held on till the last possible second EXCEPT FOR RAM'S MOM.

she lifts her hand away from him and then pulls back and it was devastating

Predators Do Not Work Like That But I Do Not Care Because That Was Awesome And Also They Ate A Bunch Of Colonizing Cops: Queercoded Edition (ACAB)

bheem with his arms spread and rope or chains around his wrists or in his hands. i just. the way it flipped back and forth from 'he has the power' to 'he is helpless' to 'he should be helpless and isn't' was just. breathtaking.

AND THEN. AND THEN RAM. CHAINED UP THE SAME WAY. DOING THE SAME GODDAMN THING AND USING THE FACT THAT HE'S CHAINED UP FOR HIS OWN FUCKING PURPOSES BECAUSE HE SAW BHEEM DO IT FIRST DON'T TOUCH ME

okay listen this movie would've been good no matter what but like. they really are just SO beautiful. and. when ram. with like the long hair. and. beard. and like. you know? like. his. his hair. his general. everything. um.

literally at the most emotionally inappropriate moment i literally thought about that whole 'i saw a man so beautiful i started crying' thing and like that almost literally happened literally

Why There Can't Be Any Such Thing As Good Cops: The Romance (ACAB)

and like here's the thing i'm not sure i would've even NOTICED this had it not been for the linguistic chauvinism with the audio and everything but like both of them were hindu and a lot of the symbolism though awesome was also really strongly hindu and i just i don't know nearly enough about hindutva to have any kind of opinion BUT i also feel like maaaaaaaybe there was something a little uncomfy about some of this

oh no wait the suspenders dance. that might've actually been the best part. yeah.

oh all the british actors did SUCH a good job being so eminently punchable

throw cheetahs at each other! and snakes! somehow have upper body strength greater than the force exerted by a 800+ lb tiger lunging! throw those motorcycles! punch through those walls without breaking your fingers! use herbal paste to heal broken bones in a matter of a minutes! break solid stone with nothing but the strength of your shoulders and gay love! i am so here for all of this!!!

Throw Rocks Marble Pillars Live Tigers Cops At Cops: The Movie (ACAB)

i love that jenny felt bad for the poor little girl who got kidnapped enslaved and imprisoned so she. bought her a dress and a toy.

you know, to make her feel better about the whole 'being kidnapped enslaved and imprisoned' thing.

instead of doing, i don't know know, literally anything else. like even just saying to her aunt 'hey this makes me sad' or something. #solidarity.

the violence was violent and the romance was sweet

okay so during the fight at the midpoint like i know that by the end of it ram and bheem are literal fire and water BUT ALSO. Ram enters the scene in a flaming carriage and from that point forward the fountain is in pretty much every shot of bheem. just sayin.

love that lachu (or whatever his name really is) told ram that there was no cure. like yes! you go man! ram may be so beautiful that in forty minutes i'm going to be in tears but that's no reason to tell a cop the truth about anything! you lie to that cop man!

A BRITISH SOLDIER HIT LOKI IN THE HEAD WITH A BRANCH AND THEN STOLE MALLI AWAY

BHEEM HIT RAM IN THE HEAD WITH A BRANCH AND THEN STOLE MALLI AWAY

i know other people got hit in the head with tree branches too but STILL

honestly i really like that ram and bheem were, well, ram and bheem. but i mean im glad they weren't like ram and lakshman or bheem and arjun or something. not even just because that would've been brotherly like i'm glad they weren't arjun and krishna or something either. i liked that their names weren't from the same story. i liked it better this way and i can't even articulate why.

i am never ever ever going to get over the progression of part of bheem's introduction being something going wrong and him holding two ropes (he has all the power) with his arms spread and that being used to show us how incredibly strong he is -> something going wrong and bheem with ropes around his wrists (he shouldn't have any power at all) holding his arms spread and that being used to show how incredibly strong he is in a completely different way

like every time there were ropes or chains in bheem's hands or around his wrists it meant something, and it was a beat in the rhythm of a discernable arc, but now i can't remember all of them gdi

oooohhhhh there was SO much more symbolism i wanted to talk about but it's so late that i have a headache and this post is so long my computer's lagging like two sentences behind so i should stop and go to bed. sigh.

just go watch this movie, okay? pleae? I cannot IMAGINE who would've read this whole thing,m but if you did, just watch it, all rigth? (and if you happen to know of any site - ANY site - where i can watch it in FUKIN TELUGU kindly drop a link please and thank)

#rrr #queer movies #rambheem #i don't even know how else to tag this #op #rrr movie #ram x bheem #movie recs

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momobani · 8 months

Text

Fire Brigade

THE WAY I hate YOU - chapter 4 - 11.4k

&team Nicholas x fem!reader - arranged marriage AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Sum: as you settle into married life, you learn a lot about what it’s like to share your life with someone else.

Warnings: swearing, sarcasm, mention of food and alcohol, they’re both cranky goofs in the morning idk, allusion to questionable parenting?, depiction of drunkenness

Soundtrack rec: You’re So True - Joseph Arthur (Shrek OST) [there’s just something about this song, i can’t pin point it, just listen. i can just see a montage of their moments together as this plays haha]

Taglist: @nichoswag @seokka0o @sseastar-main @hyuckslvr @ssshasssh

A/N: i know it’s been 84 years, i’m sorry but life was hectic - for some reason my note keeps getting eaten by tumblr (fu!) but basically - life = hard, nicho -> nico (as per his own request on weverse lol), enjoy <3

Being back in your new apartment was strange.

It felt like you’d never moved in in the first place before your honeymoon. You cleaned up a little after you returned, going grocery shopping together for the first time instead of singularly getting your own food and sticking it in the fridge.

At the cashier, you almost asked to pay separately but then you realised how weird that would sound because you were so obviously involved and like who does that really? Nicholas whipped out his card before you could unzip your purse so you let him pay this time.

At least you drove there and back, happily abandoning the firetruck (Ferrari) in the underground parking, much to Nicholas’ pouty dismay.

You still had several days off, mostly because there was a weekend when you returned and you’d strategically planned your time off to encompass that without burning your vacation days unnecessarily.

You had to admit, sleeping in in the morning was nice.

In the morning you took time to watch some TV, sipping your coffee in front of the screen. You decided that you really needed to catch up on some work related stuff because you were going back to the office on Tuesday and you’d better be prepared.

So you spread your papers out on the kitchen table, opened your laptop and got stuck in. It was fairly quiet in the apartment and you thought Nicholas was probably still sleeping.

It’s a surprise when he walks through the front door some time later, a little sweaty and wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless tank top. There’s a water bottle in one hand and you immediately know exactly where he’s been and what he’s been up to.

“Hey,” he greets you, depositing the bottle on the counter. “what are you doing?”

“Working,” you say, only glancing up at him. “what’s it look like I’m doing? Writing a novel?”

“Well, it could be but I doubt a novel-” he wanders past you and peeks over your shoulder. He gets kind of close and you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “-requires a contract for the sale of pharmaceutical supplies.”

“Y’know, you’d be surprised.” you reply.

“You still have days off, why do work?” he asks, genuinely confused. You again imagined what kind of utopia Nicholas’ office must be if he really doesn’t get it.

“It’s not a big deal, it needs doing ASAP anyway. Mind your business, dude.”

“Fine,” he raises his hands in surrender. “but I invited company, I didn’t know you were working.”

“It’s fine, I’ll move.” you say, marking where you’d left off and starting to sort things.

“Okay, but we might be quite loud. The guys are coming over.” he explains. “Are you sure that’s not going to disturb you? We can hang out in my room instead.”

“It’s alright, I’ve lived with pack animals back when I decided to have an authentic college experience.” you shudder, remembering the shit you’d been through. You wanted an experience, and oh boy, did you get one. Between the constant revolving door of strangers invading your apartment to the loud roommates you had, you’d really gotten used to noise.

“Sometimes I really wonder what kind of life you’ve lived.” Nicholas muses, looking at you curiously, as if you were an animal at a zoo exhibit.

You shrug just as your buzzer goes off. Nicholas presses the button that unlocks the downstairs door. You take the first pile of papers and crap to your room, realising you’re going to need two trips to get everything.

You put the first pile in your room but accidentally knock the first stack of maybe twenty pages down.

“Shit,” you mutter, crouching to pick it all up. You shouldn’t have taken the big clip off it.

By the time you come back for the second pile of stuff and your laptop, your doorbell goes off and Nicholas opens the door.

You watch as a group of dudes roll into your apartment, all in their uniform of shorts and t-shirts or tank tops. You recognise their faces from meeting them at your wedding, but you couldn’t match all the names you knew to the faces, except maybe for Jo, who had got the first-come-first-remembered privilege.

“Oh, hey!” one of them notices you and greets you too as they come in. He has a big smile and several ear piercings. You try to place him to a name, he was either Yuma or Fuma but you can’t be sure. The rest of them notice you too and all offer you various greetings.

“Maybe this a good time for proper introductions.” Nicholas suggests. “Guys, this is my wife, YN. YN, these are the guys.” he says unhelpfully. You raise your hand in a wave.

“Hi,” you say. “you must be fire brigade.” you smile. The room full of confused faces almost makes you laugh. Nicholas does ask them to introduce themselves individually though, probably his attempt to dispel your sarcastic take.

So the guy who greeted you was Yuma, not Fuma, who’s ironically standing next to him in a cute Pokemon t-shirt. There’s also Euijoo, who you recognise as Nicholas’ best man, Jo, who shyly gives you a tiny wave, and Kei beside Jo, which makes the two look like twin towers. Make that triplet towers, since Euijoo was next to them too. You wondered if their clique had a height requirement or something because most of them were giants.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you say, finally gathering your things and taking your exit.

“We’ll save you some meat!” Nicholas calls after you.

“Thanks.” you say over your shoulder.

You’re halfway through the corridor when you hear the exclamations fill the room. It reminded you slightly of teenage girl behaviour and you thought it was funny.

“Wow, you guys are getting on better than we thought!” you hear possibly Euijoo say.

“Dude, you didn’t say your wife was so hot!” you think that’s Kei’s voice.

“Kei, you were at the wedding?” Yuma chimes in.

“Yeah, but he was too busy flirting with everyone else to notice.” a deeper voice comes in, probably Fuma.

“Well, I had to entertain myself somehow, the whole thing went on for hours.” Kei replies.

“Yeah! It’s not Kei’s fault he was born a pathological flirt.” Euijoo says in solidarity.

“Bro, never talk about another man’s wife if you want to live.” Nicholas warns, only half joking. You can’t help but crack a smile as you close your door to their ridiculousness.

You kept working, the noise level mostly okay since you were a fair distance and closed door away, but occasionally you could hear their excitement, loud laughter and yells travelling through the apartment.

You wondered when it got incredibly loud, what they were doing, howling at the moon or something? Who knows, it was a group of grown men; who really understands the mysteries of dude-bros hanging out together?

Some weeks passed without incident, your lives finding routine sleeping, eating and working, as you manoeuvred around each other every day. Despite you being worried about living with a roommate again, for the most part you led your lives separately but not completely severed from each other.

You went to work at your respective companies then came home and occasionally had dinner together, sometimes you even watched TV together or did your recycling. There were days when one of you went grocery shopping and asked the other if you needed anything, days where you cleaned the whole apartment, splitting off chores so you could be done quicker.

You were lured into a false sense of security, you had to admit.

And being relaxed didn’t hurt, but accidents did happen.

Like the day of the most important meeting of the calendar quarter.

You were meticulous, setting your alarm, preparing your materials and picking out your attire. Going to bed the previous night was smooth sailing and you conked out with no anxiety in your chest for once.

The morning you had your monster shot coffee and a crispy yet perfectly soft inside bagel while you reviewed the notes you left in the margin of the document drafts. You cleaned up, purposefully leaving the small of stack of papers on the counter where you would see it before leaving the house and take it with you, while you got dressed.

While you did your hair, you did happen to think of something more to add, so you wandered to the kitchen, your hair half-pinned up with clips while you styled it.

Except the pile was gone.

Your jaw dropped open. How could it be gone? It was right there not even fifteen minutes ago. It can’t have just disappeared, could it?

Panic started to rise in your chest as you looked around the kitchen; maybe Nicholas moved it so it wouldn’t get dirty on the counter. You deduce he’s been in the kitchen since you’d left because there’s a washed bowl on the rack beside the sink that you didn’t put there.

You don’t find the pile after a minute of looking, opening drawers, cabinets, scanning the tables and whatever else there was in your kitchen.

There was simply one conclusion - your papers were gone.

You could hear Nicholas was in the bathroom and you decide to just ask him instead.

“Wang Yixiang!” you yell, trying to get his attention. Not a moment later, the door of the bathroom is thrown open and hasty footsteps echo down the hallway, the perpetrator probably horrified of your tone.

Nicholas bursts into the kitchen, still in his pyjama bottoms and a hoodie with nothing underneath; he did that a lot as a random habit of his that you’d noticed. There’s a spattering of shaving cream on one side of his face and the razor is still in his hand. You had no idea what he was shaving off though; he never seemed to have anything on that stupidly handsome face of his.

“I’m sorry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” he says hurriedly before he’s even entered the room. He was clearly on the verge of freaking out at you calling his government name.

“Did you happen to see a pile of papers that was on the counter?” you ask, cutting straight to it.

“Papers?” he seems confused at the idea.

“Yeah, I left a contract here, it was a small stack and had notes in the margin and tabs, but now it’s gone.” you say, starting to feel yourself grow desperate.

Nicholas thinks for a moment, clearly unsure of what exact you’re talking about. How could that be though? He’s the only other person who could know what happened to it.

“Hmm, let me see, I came to get cereal, got the milk out the fridge, then I hit my elbow, ate the cereal and after that I took out the trash since it’s trash day- oh no.” you look at each other in horror, then to the empty trash can beside the counter, brains putting in the missing pieces.

“Oh my god.” you breathe out. Then it hits you for real. “It’s trash day!” you exclaim, feet already moving of their own accord. You had to find that contract before it got taken away.

“Don’t you have a copy?” Nicholas calls out, razor discarded while he stayed on your heels.

“No! I told you, there was notes in the margin, and they’re super important and I have to have it with me today.” you were practically running down the corridor after you’d exited your apartment.

The two of you reached the elevator and you pressed the button, anxiety starting to make you sweat.

“No time, stairs!” You announce, head spinning already, and turn when the elevator doesn’t come. You take two steps but Nicholas grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Are you crazy? We live on the tenth floor!” he snaps, holding you hostage. Before you can rebut, the elevator dings and the door opens. “See? C’mon!” you let him drag you in there, almost jumping out of your skin when you see your reflections in the mirror pane opposite the door.

Your hair was flying in all different directions, half of it styled, the other forgotten, while Nicholas paled as he swiped at the remaining cream on his face with a hoodie sleeve.

“Just so we know what we’re dealing with here, hypothetically, if you didn’t have this contract…?” he says, trailing off.

“The world won’t end but I may as well walk in there wearing a rainbow wig and a big, red clown nose and kiss this deal goodbye.” you describe. “Then I’ll have to answer to my parents, board of directors, and the entire department will be on my ass by the end of lunch because ‘nepo baby’ managed to fuck up the one job she had.”

“They call you that?” Nicholas asks. You look away, counting down with the numbers of the floors that go by.

“Yeah, they do. Even though I have to work hard like them, it is my parents’ company. They’re right though, I’m not even sure what I’m capable of if it wasn’t for my parents making me work there.” you hated that you’d gotten to this subject, especially right now.

“You still worked hard though, getting to where you are tod-”

“C’mon!” you ignore what he’s saying when the elevator finally dings as it got to the first floor and you drag Nicholas out as soon as the door opens.

You race toward the garbage storage space, heart thumping loudly; if Nicholas could just remember where he left the bag, in which container -

You open the door and find the garbage collectors already on the scene, rolling the large metal containers toward the street, where their truck was waiting.

“Where did you throw it?” you ask desperately, looking around and seeing that some of the containers hadn’t left the premises yet. Nicholas looks like he’s about to faint.

He doesn’t say anything but points in the general direction of the containers that are already sitting near the truck. You gulp thickly, realising what that meant. Somehow, it doesn’t disgust you and you act without thinking.

“Excuse me!” you call out, trying to get one of the men’s attention. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but is it okay if we have a look at the trash? We threw away something important and it might still be around.”

The man hears you, turning around, giving you a once over, most definitely confused at your request. He considers it for a moment, then shrugs.

“Knock yourself out.” he says.

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicholas asks you as you drag him toward the containers. “Tell me we are not dumpster diving.”

“Oh, but we are, roomie, we are.” you hum. He stands still in shock. You throw open the first container and flinch at the explosion of smell coming from the numerous black trash bags.

“Are you deranged or something?” Nicholas shrieks when the smell hits his nose.

“Listen, here:” you whip around to glare at him. “I am getting to that meeting with my contract, if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Now, dig, gremlin, dig!” you say through gritted teeth, turning back to the container.

“You know what, don’t answer that. You must be.” he corrects when he sees you grab hold of the side, step up with your leg, and pull yourself up so you can reach inside the container.

Now, normally you’d be so grossed out that you might have thrown up by now, but seeing as you could envision the embarrassment, tirade of disappointed faces of your parents, and sneering jeers of your colleagues, you started feeling up the trash bags without a second thought. You were going to worry about everything else later.

Desperation makes even the most cowardly of dogs brave.

“What are you waiting for?” you bark back at Nicholas, who was just standing behind you, blinking dumbly. “Get in there and start looking!” you instruct. That seems to do it and Nicholas rushes over to the side of the adjacent container and flings it open, gagging at the smell but obediently rummaging around the bags.

There’s a tense minute while you try and feel your way through the container, looking for anything that might indicate paper on the inside, but you’re struggling to find anything.

“Y’know,” you vaguely hear Nicholas grunt as he feels up a garbage bag. “I was just starting to like you but nevermind, I think I hate you.” he says as he squeamishly pushes away yet another bag.

His comment doesn’t make you stop but it strikes a nerve. You knew he was probably talking shit because the two of you were practically knee and elbow deep in trash - in a reversed situation, you would too - but you were a little mad at him for not being more careful in the kitchen, and worse at yourself for ever leaving anything in there in the first place.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.” you reply, just as huffy as him.

You keep digging but find nothing, your world suddenly becoming bleaker and bleaker. You had already decided to call in late for work and try to remedy the situation before the big meeting later in the day. You could think of some of the stuff that was written, but you’d lost some of the most important details. Not to mention your concentration and preparation had all been flushed down the drain.

“Hey, we’re going to have to get going now.” you hear the garbage man say behind you. You glance over your shoulder and he seems like he couldn’t care less about your situation.

“Yes, right, sorry. Just a second.” you plead, desperately reaching into the container in vain.

“We’re already behind schedule, ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from the trash.” he replies. You realise you’re being a nuisance but you can’t help it.

“YN, c’mon, just give up, we can’t find it.” Nicholas materialises next to your container. He sounds tired and hopeless, just as you feel.

“But…I,” you attempt, heart sinking. You know they’re right, you need to go.

“C’mon,” Nicholas steps up to the container and holds out a hand to help you get down. Your shoulders slump but you let him pull you to the edge and practically lift you out of the dumpster, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as he guides your feet to the ground again. “Sorry for the trouble.” he mumbles to the garbage man.

You’re too numb to say anything so you just sort of nod politely at him as Nicholas steers you away and back into the building.

“Ugh, I stink so bad.” he groans, voice cracking. You wait for the elevator and when it comes, your neighbours file out, doing a disturbed double take at the sight and smell of the two of you. You don’t care about keeping up appearances right now, your dejection running too deep.

What were you supposed to do now?

After a moment of silence when you get into the elevator, you feel Nicholas look at you, hesitating at probably how hostile you must look right now. You were fuming, mostly at yourself.

“I’m sorry.” he says gently. “I really am.”

You soften ever so slightly but can’t help the tenseness in your voice.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring back the notes, but thanks for trying to find them.” you say curtly, coldly even. You know it was an accident but it still made a mess. “I’ll make do with what I have.”

You get back to your apartment, Nicholas heading straight to the bathroom but you stop him.

“The smell won’t come out with water.” you warn.

“Then what do you propose?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Vinegar.” you state. “We’ll dilute some with water since it might be too strong and clean the smell off before showering.” It was an old home trick for getting rid of smells; vinegar was practically a miracle worker.

And you do.

Armed with a cloth each, you stand in your bathroom trying to scrub yourselves clean from the essence of trash that crawled on your skin. It had permeated your clothes so those had gone straight into the washer, leaving you in your underwear.

“Can you get my back?” you ask Nicholas, when your arms fall short of reaching behind you with the cloth.

“Sure.” then his hands are in your hair, moving it to sit over your shoulder, while one rests there to stop it from moving back into the line of vinegar. He swipes the cloth over your skin, quickly reaching from the waistband of your underwear to your shoulder where he lingers. “You’re so tense, jeez.”

“Whatever, just keep go-” he doesn’t give you warning before starting to massage your shoulders.

You groan out loud as he teases out a knot in the muscle immediately. There’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks at the noise that just escaped your lips but Nicholas doesn’t seem to care as he keeps kneading your shoulders with his large hands. You contain most of your noises but a few quiet sighs leave your mouth as he works your shoulders.

“Can I move these?” he asks, tapping on your bra straps. Your brain has already shut down so you just nod.

It was unexpected and even though your first instinct was to stop him and tell him to quit it, your body had its own opinion on the matter, shutting your mouth and relaxing under his touch as he slipped the straps off your shoulders.

Your eyes flutter closed at one point, your body swaying in the direction that your husband applied some pressure to your back. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the warmth of his hands on your skin as he massaged your shoulders.

“Feel better?” he muttered, mouth but a few inches from your ear, as he finished up.

“Much, thanks.” you sigh, coming back to reality. You do feel a little more warm in your cheeks than you should but you show no reaction. You reach for your straps but Nicholas beats you to it, sliding them back up your arms softly, his fingers grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“Okay, now shower before you kill someone with that hair.” he chuckles, lightening up the mood.

“What about you?” you turn to look at him. He shrugs, the bulk of his bare shoulders rising and falling.

“I have nowhere to be, don’t worry about me. Just get that smell out of your hair.” he instructs before vacating the bathroom. You’re left staring after him.

You’d been mad at him just a smidge about the contract but he’d managed to ease his way back into your good graces with an apology and a massage. You guess it made sense; Nicholas was your friend now, and if any of your other friends did the same thing, sure you’d be a little mad but you’d forgive just as easily.

But there was something about the way none of your other friends would have done what he did, touch you like he did, stand close like he did.

You banish the thought and scramble into the shower, aware of the ticking of the clock before your meeting.

You wondered why you’d agreed to come to family dinner at your house alone on Friday night. You should have really dragged Nicholas there so he could suffer with you, although of course, the hope was that with his presence, your parents would lay off you and focus on him, their precious, angelic son-in-law.

He had let you know he’d made plans with the guys and offered you an alternate to family dinning, which you’d regretfully declined because you knew that your mother would never just let it go and would instead invite you to several consecutive family dinners and/or events to make up for the loss.

You really were better sacrificing yourself for one evening than signing yourself up for a plethora of others.

Regardless, you should have known better than to hope this would be a marginally pleasant evening. Without Nicholas there, your parents, mainly your mother, had taken to grilling you over entrées. And the main course. And you predicted dessert.

“Are you being good to Nicholas?” your mother asks. “Have you been cooking and cleaning enough around the apartment?” she continues without pause.

“Yes, mother.” you say. You weren’t lying, it’s just that you had an agreement to share everything fair and square with Nicholas, including all the chores, bills (mortgage too, naturally) and other expenses.

“Are you sure?” she continues. “He’s got no reason to be mad at you, has he?” she inquires, her eyes unnaturally wide.

“No, mom, he doesn’t.” you say, regretting your decision to drive because now you couldn’t at least drown out some of the nagging with alcohol.

“Then why didn’t he come along for dinner? You invited him, didn’t you?”

You almost roll your eyes but hold back because she’s watching you. If she looked away more often, you’d probably get a headache from rolling your eyes. (Growing up under her roof, it had been the most common cause of your headaches. That and tension headaches.)

“Yes, of course I did, but he made plans way before so he couldn’t cancel.” you explain for the tenth time.

“Well alright then, I suppose.” your mother concludes.

Finally, you think.

The whole scene was eerily starting to resemble an episode of Gilmore Girls and you were in the role of Lorelai, fending off your mother.

She was practically treating you like devil spawn and Nicholas as if he was their own son and you had stolen him away and trapped him into a heinous marriage. You half wondered if you had dinner alone with the Wangs, was that how they’d treat you too? You could only guess they weren’t incredibly fond of you either from the way you’d initially refused to marry their perfect son. Clearly, parents, your own or other people’s, didn’t seem to like you very much.

Your father and Maki were also at the dinner table, minding their food, and possibly fearing for their lives. You knew what they were like; if they were chewing, their ears seemed to close off.

By the time you got to the main dishes, you’d fielded questions about Nicholas from your mother, and the apartment, but also work questions from your father, which you skilfully managed to not go into any detail on, lest he pick up on something being wrong at work.

Maki helpfully tried to steer the conversation away too, asking random questions about the company, which your father was more than happy to answer because his youngest was taking an interest in the family business. You were grateful to Maki but you worried this might give your parents the green light into throwing him in there with you.

Your father was plenty capable.

He’d probably also hear about how your meeting had gone in the office - there’d been a lot of back and forth (which you’d instigated) to avoid getting to anything too serious while you still hadn’t recovered details of the contract you’d lost.

It had resulted in scheduling another meeting some time later, giving both parties time to reconvene and finalise their sides of the deal.

By the time you finished the main course, your mouth was dry from all the bullshitting you had to do. As soon as you finish your portion of dessert, you figure it’s time to jet.

“So, I should get going and go home, y’know, to the husband you picked out for me.” you start only half-sarcastically. “Thanks for the dinner,” and the shakedown, you think. “could I take some dessert for your beloved son-in-law? He likes this kind of thing.”

“Well, YN, I’m glad you’ve learned what he likes.” your mother says. You wait for her to finish her sentence before having any hope of even a tiny compliment. “You may take some home, but next time just bring him here for dinner, instead of taking home scraps and left overs, it’s embarrassing. As if you can’t afford a full meal.”

“Mom, I told you, he really had plans and I did beg him to come.” you fib, hoping it sells.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” she concedes. “But you shouldn’t beg your husband for things either, it sets for an awkward relationship and it’s embarrassing.” she continues.

You should have known something mildly positive would be followed up in this manner. You sigh and wait for the house keeper to bring you a box for the dessert.

You get up and get your things by the door, then hug Maki goodbye and ruffle his hair, whispering a quick “Hang in there, kiddo.” to which he just looks at you blankly, dimples popping. You felt bad leaving him there with the hyenas (your mother). “You poor thing.” you lament, patting his arm, as you put on your shoes.

“Drive carefully,” your mother says after you say your goodbyes. “and don’t forget you have that charity event in a couple of weeks. You have to go with Nicholas.”

“Yes, I know. You told me several times already. It’s in my calendar.” you take the box of dessert and open the door. “Goodnight.” you call and leave before anyone can say anything more.

As soon as you get inside your car, you let out a frustrated grunt, hitting your steering wheel with the palms of your hands, releasing a sound that would compete with wild animals. You just needed to get that out of your system because there was only so much pent up frustration you could take.

Once you calm down, you start the engine and go on your way. The dessert sits in the passenger seat as you precious cargo as you drive through the night, windows down, playing some songs you’d curated specifically for after family dinners.

You sing along because the roads are empty and no one’s around to hear you sing like a strangled cat. It’s the exact catharsis you needed, expelling all that energy while the moon hangs full in the sky, so you’re in an improved mood by the time you walk through your front door.

After you kick off your shoes, you go to the kitchen, slippers smacking loudly against the floor as you walk. The sound of your arrival must have alerted Nicholas because he appears while you’re getting a glass of water after depositing the dessert in the fridge.

“You’re back earlier than I thought.” you observe, putting the glass down with a ‘click’ on the counter.

“Yeah, the thing with he guys didn’t last as long as we thought so I came back early.” he explains, plopping down to sit at the counter. “How was dinner? You seem disgruntled.”

“Excellent observation.” you frown, thinking of the best word to describe the ordeal. “It was rather disagreeable.” you attempt.

“Oh? That is most unfortunate, Mrs Wang. Something happen in particular?” he listens attentively.

“Your mother-in-law says hello and sends her regards. Need I say more?” you raise your eyebrows at him. He’s wearing a loose grey t-shirt and looks sleepy already, which you note is odd because if you had learned anything about your husband, is that he was, by personal preference, nocturnal.

“Ah, lovely.” he nods in understanding. “Sorry, I let you fly solo.”

“I wasn’t totally alone, Maki was there, but he can only say so much.” you say. “Anyways, I got you something.” you remember to bring out the dessert from the fridge again.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Nicholas perks up at the sight of the box. You almost laugh at his sudden rejuvenation.

“Dessert. The one with the strawberry sorbet.” you hum smugly when his eyes light up.

“Wah, that’s great. Is it my birthday?” he smiles as you open the box and offer him a spoon. He seems to change his mind in a split second and his face falls, suddenly becoming serious. “Are you trying to poison me?” he interrogates, face full of suspicion.

You tilt your head sarcastically. “Totally. Tis part of my elaborate scheme to become a young widow.” you deadpan and start to take away the spoon but Nicholas stops you and accepts it. “Trust me - if I was going to poison you, you wouldn’t know about it.” you add, gulping down the rest of your water.

“Well, that’s reassuring.” he hums while looking at the contents of the box.

“Bon appetit!” you give him a toothy smile and breeze past him.

To say that mornings with Nicholas were a pain, would be a gross understatement.

From what you’re seen on your honeymoon, your husband was most certainly not a morning person, but you had yet to see in detail just how grizzly the situation could get.

It was kind of ironic because Nicholas was a well put together guy; he knew what he was doing, worked hard at it and did it without a fuss. He seemed like the ultimate catch - young, rich, tall, handsome (others would say sexy too and you would agree, objectively only of course), funny, smart, polite, respectful, well mannered - but of course, nobody’s perfect and it didn’t take a genius to work out that mornings were Nicholas’ weakness.

For the most part so far, the two of you had differing schedules and you barely ran into each other in the mornings, mostly taking turns in the bathroom if anything and giving each other a heads up if you were particularly in a hurry that day or the next day or whenever.

Today however, you had a meeting of the boards of directors for your two companies. It was mostly oversight for the progression of the merger and a chance to hear from the heads of the companies to brief you on the vision for how the merger should go. Your and Nicholas’ presence was without a doubt mandatory and possibly even the highlight since everyone would be talking about you two.

You woke up like clock work, a couple minutes before your alarm and stretched out like a cat before getting up to hunt for coffee (your cavemen ancestors would be shocked). You walked past Nicholas’ room and heard his alarm going off, relieved that supposedly he’s awake.

Supposedly.

The coffee machine whirs quietly as you prepare two cups since you figured Nicholas would want coffee too, but you don’t hear his door opening or in fact, any noise from his room. You pad over to the corridor to listen out and pick up the sound of a second alarm. It sounds promising so you don’t think too much of it and go back to drink your coffee.

It’s been ten minutes when you decide that something is wrong with Nicholas.

You leave your half drunk coffee and his untouched one on the counter and go knock on his door.

“Yo, Nico, you awake?” you call out. You strain your ears to hear a response, leaning onto the door itself. You hear an unmistakeable groan. “I know you’re alive and in there, now get up!” you shout, hoping the louder the message, the more likely it is to get through to him.

You leave to finish your coffee but when he still doesn’t get up, you roll your eyes and stack your cup on the pile of dirty dishes waiting to be put into the dish washer.

“That’s it.” you mutter, determined to make him shift. You fill a glass with cold water, stopping by the freezer for ice and then make your way back to Nicholas’ room.

You were starting to worry that you were going to be late for that stupid meeting since it was already a quarter to eight.

You bang on his door almost violently. “Wang Yixiang, get your dumb ass up or else!” you call to another groan of what sounds like ‘go away’. Your blood pressure spikes and you snap. “I warned you, I’m coming in.”

And you yank the door handle and enter the room.

You find Nicholas in just pyjama pants, sprawled face first in his bed, blankets and sheets tangled up like a war zone while he hugs an extra pillow and a wolf plushie sits on the opposite side of the bed against the headboard. His hair is a mess and splays all over his face and pillow as he still dozes despite your loud attempts at intervening.

You hesitate for a second because he looks so peaceful, then you remember that you have somewhere to be.

“This is a warning shot.” you say and dip your fingers into the water to grab hold of an ice cube.

You launch the ice cube unceremoniously and it plops onto Nicholas’ bare back. He jolts at the contact and a low moan sounds from the back of his throat. Your eyes widen as you feel a wave of queasiness wash over your lower abdomen.

What the fuck did you just do? Did you press the wrong button? Is he malfunctioning? Does he need to go for an MOT check like a car?

The noise sent you reeling and you wanted to run away but the ice cube did nothing. It just sort of slid off of his back and he shuffled a little, getting comfortable again. You sigh and nod to yourself. You hoped it wouldn’t need to come to this.

“Right.” you say. Without another moment to lose, you hold out the glass over Nicholas’ bare torso and tip your wrist so the water comes spilling out.

The water splashes all over his back and it sends Nicholas flying up with a piercing screech.

“What was that for!” he yelps, shaking off the water off his back and reaching for a blanket to wipe it off. You would stay to have a full conversation about this, but you’re already on your way out.

“You’re late.” you chastise. “And if you’re late, then I’m late. Now get up or I’ll come back with a bucket.” you warn as you sweep out of the premises.

“You know you’re meaner in the mornings!” he calls out after you.

“Thanks!” you reply over your shoulder.

Needless to say, you usher Nicholas into your car ten minutes later, him almost dressed as he finishes buttoning up his shirt and does his tie in the car, then styles his hair in the passenger seat using your overhead mirror. You try your best to avoid a pothole but manage to run straight over it by accident. Your car jolts and Nicholas groans in frustration when his hair swishes in a different direction.

“You couldn’t let us be fashionably late.” he mutters.

“I’m never late. Fashionably or otherwise.” you inform him. “Get used to it, hubby; you roll with me now.” you say as you manoeuvre the steering wheel.

“Alright, got it, Sergeant.” Nicholas holds up a hand as if swearing an oath.

“Next meeting, we might even make it on time.” you sass back as you pull up to work and exhale.

This was going to be a long day.

Before you could blink, it was the last day of the calendar quarter and you were dreading it because it’s the day that you and your uncle gather to have coffee and talk about work, less in a boss and employee way and more of an uncle-niece thing. It was the first time you’d ever felt apprehensive to talk to your uncle since he’d had a part to play in your arranged marriage and you were still disappointed in him.

You’d always been closer to your uncle than your parents as far as you could remember. Probably because he didn’t keep you on a leash and command you around but respected your independence. He’d even tried to stop you from going to law school unless it was definitely what you wanted. You had no idea why he’d done that at the time (you were still in high school), but after a few years, you now appreciated the gesture.

Now, you weren’t so sure what he was going to be like after letting your parents push you to Nicholas. You still remembered his face that day; impassive as if he didn’t care about you at all. There was a still a lingering feeling of betrayal when you thought about what your uncle had done.

You took your normal route to company rooftop, your coffee mug hot in your hand as you made your way outside.

Your uncle was waiting at your usual table, the tiny one at the end of the row closest to the edge of the rooftop balcony. From there, you could see out to the city and watch the sun set. It was just after work hours officially ended so the cafe at your company had closed already but you each bought a mug from your offices and sat down.

You walk up to the table as briskly as your coffee would allow you and sit down in the empty chair.

“Hi, uncle.” you attempt. He half-smiles, his fond demeanour unchanged as always.

“Hello, YN.” he replies. “Are you ready for a chat?”

The question hangs in the air, for some reason, you feel it entails more than your usual this and that about work.

“Sure.” you say, cautious.

You end up telling him about some of the finalised negotiations you made this quarter and catching him up on some of the cases you’d been assigned. After a while, it feels natural and you confess that you’d messed up a little with that contract but you don’t tell him it involved Nicholas.

In fact, you don’t mention Nicholas at all and try to move on as if there was no massive elephant in the room. It’s definitely starting to annoy you, skirting around the subject but you try to stay steadfast despite how it irks you.

Your uncle figures it out anyway.

“Something bothering you, dear?” he asks, voice totally unintrusive.

“Not really,” you lie, but your eyes shift to your half-drunk coffee. Your uncle sighs and puts his mug down.

“Listen, YN, I’m not a fool, we should talk about it.” he says. “I know you’re probably displeased with me for pairing you up with Nicholas, but you’ll just have to find it in your heart to accept it.” he continues. “I am not expecting your forgiveness, although I would be relieved to hear it. What was done was for your own good. I hope one day you’ll be able to see that.”

It hurts to hear the same rhetoric from your uncle as it came from your parents; the whole ‘for-your-own-good’ thing made you want to pull your hair out, yet you realise that coming from him, it feels all the more painful.

“I understand that you’ll keep giving me a cold shoulder and I’m okay with it, I suppose, but I need you to remember that everything is temporary.” he meets your eyes. You sense something odd for a moment when he says that, but you don’t react. “Besides, you might even end up liking Nicholas, he’s a good boy.”

That seems to spur you into action.

“Uncle, it’s not about that.” you reply adamantly. “Nicholas is great, he’s really not the problem. The problem is that you still let my parents dictate such a huge decision in my life - I trusted you to not do such a thing. You’re better than that.”

Your uncle pauses for a moment. “You agreed eventually, didn’t you?” he asks simply.

“Well yes, but it was because I was scared they’d do something to Maki. You know they would pick on him if it wasn’t for me.” you argue.

“YN, your parents are complicated people, but they’re not quite as evil as you believe them to be.” your uncle says gently, the way you try to talk to little kids and rationalise a situation which they find stupid (and usually have a right to find as such).

“Well, you’re related to one of them, you kind of have to say that.” you remind him, rejecting his philosophy.

“I’m saying it because it’s true. Try to understand them a little more. Alright?” he pleads.

You look at your uncle and see that he’s trying - he’s trying to be the bridge in this family and you have to give him something to work with.

You nod reluctantly, not because you agree with him or want to understand your parents, but because you wanted to go easy on him for the sake of not creating issues in your family as a whole. Sometimes you couldn’t have compromises and you needed to be more patient and the bigger person.

You knew where he was coming from; of course people are complicated and do things for complicated reasons, including hurting their loved ones. You believed that it was possible that it could be true they weren’t so bad but also true that some people just weren’t nice, weren’t kind, weren’t understanding by nature.

In that line of thought, it wasn’t even about the specificity of your situation. It was that you knew there’s truly nothing completely black and white in the world - your relationship with your parents had always been full of greys, differing shades of blurriness contorting your feelings towards them for your whole life.

You put the topic down quietly and resumed chatting about this and that, the whole thing weighing you down just a bit before you concluded and bid your uncle goodbye, going home immediately after that, although you’d planned to stay longer.

“Fuck overtime.” you hum as you get into your car.

The rest of your evening is fairly quiet, you cook dinner for yourself after Nicholas sends you a text about a haphazard night out with his friends and to not wait up for him. It’s completely fine by you since you really needed some time alone to stew about everything; your conversation with your uncle had sent you spiralling.

Were you being unreasonable? Should you be less angry at your parents for setting you up with Nicholas? You’d meant it when you said he was great, not that you’d say that to his face ever and watch it become smug and delighted.

The thought passes as quickly and fleetingly as it had come. You were dead set in your bones to resent your parents because what they did was wrong - it was about your autonomy as a person and they’d violated that on some level. You acknowledged your agreement only to the point of technicality - yes, you’d gone through with it willingly despite hating the situation.

That was then. Now it was a couple of months later and the extremity of the feelings had died down and you were occasionally forgetting their misdeeds, so your meeting with your uncle had served as a reminder that you shouldn’t forget or really forgive it just because nothing awful had happened. Or at least yet (you knew nobody was insured about anything).

It gets late around midnight before you hear your front door unlocking.

You were just sitting on the couch, watching TV, a rarity in your busy life, when you hear several sets of footsteps stumbling into the house. There’s hushed voices shushing after a particularly loud noise.

“Nicholas?” you call out, switching off the screen and getting up to check out the situation.

“Honey, I’m home!” Nicholas yells loudly before even seeing you. The tone is shrill and very alarming and makes you freak out immediately.

In the hallway you find a quartet of men, your husband amongst his friends, the fire brigade. Nicholas is standing- no- leaning on Kei, clearly out of his mind, as well as a complementary identical Euijoo and Fuma, the latter supporting the former in his arms. Their clothes all seem to have the marks of some drizzle and you deduce that it must be raining outside.

You make a face, taking in the scene. “What the fuck is wrong with him?” you ask generally to the presumably slightly sober parties, already knowing the answer. There are a couple of guilty looks exchanged between Kei and Fuma.

“He’s drunk.” Kei admits sheepishly.

“I figured, how bad is it?” you ask.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Nicholas interjects, eyes glazed over as he leans his head on Kei’s shoulder. “I feel great!” he grins. There’s a wildness in his eyes that makes you worry. You don’t even spare a thought on the name calling.

“He had a bit.” Fuma offers but he seems uneasy to elaborate.

“How much is ‘a bit’?” you push for details, sceptical.

“A glass.” Kei says.

“Of what?”

“Tea.”

“What kind of tea?” you interrogate, already knowing the answer.

“Long island ice tea.” Kei mumbles, lowering his eyes to the floor.

“You let him drink what!” you exclaim, outraged. “Of all the things you could have had, how on Earth did Nicholas end up having a cocktail with four types of alcohol in it?” you shriek.

You look at Nicholas, who has been clinging to Kei, hanging off him like a little koala. Euijoo cringes at the volume of your voice as he seems to doze off on Fuma’s shoulder.

“We’re sorry. It was kind of an accident.” Fuma says, clearly ashamed.

You had never drunk with Nicholas before, save for the tiny bit of wine at his parents’ and the sip of champagne at your wedding, so this was a serious shock. Was your husband a serious lightweight? Did you even know him? Clearly you had only scratched the surface of Nicholas trivia if this had never come up till now.

“Yeah, he’s not really built for alcohol.” Kei says apologetically.

“But it’s okay, we’ll take care of him, and Euijoo.” Fuma adds quickly.

You look at the way Euijoo is basically sleeping in Fuma’s arms, surprised that Fuma can hold him up so well when Euijoo is a few inches taller. Kei on the other hand seems to be struggling with Nicholas’ affection - while you were talking, there was an attempted piggy back that Kei had to gently fend off. On closer surveillance, Nicholas seemed to be a clingy drunk with a bad case of grabby hands.

“No, it’s fine.” you find yourself saying. “I’ll take care of him, I did marry this mess. He’s my responsibility now.” you tell the elder two. You couldn’t imagine the ruckus they would collectively make so you decided it was better that you just take over.

Kei’s eyes light up in gratitude while Fuma seems even more guilty while cradling Euijoo’s head to his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Fuma asks, his voice full of concern. You nod reassuringly.

“You guys can go, I’ll make sure he’s okay.” you insist. Despite meeting them for the third time today, you most certainly were strangers and you didn’t really want them hanging around your house, even if they were Nicholas’ friends.

“You’re a badass, YN, thanks.” Kei gushes while guiding, more like carrying, Nicholas to the couch. You give him a nod of acknowledgement while standing between the hallway and living room.

Euijoo seems to stir, clearly having some kind of sonar or telepathy or something because as soon as Nicholas is a few feet away, his eyes open and he looks around as if he lost something.

“Noooo,” Euijoo whines, trying to follow. “don’t take my bestie away…” his attempt is curtailed by Fuma, who pats his back gently.

“Nico’s home, Joojoo, don’t worry about it. You’ll see him tomorrow.” Fuma explains. “Sorry about this, YN.” he says to you when Kei comes back. Euijoo seems dissatisfied with the current chain of events but pouts about it quietly.

“Right, he’s all yours.” Kei says before going to stand on Euijoo’s other side and take some of his weight off Fuma. “Let’s get you home, buddy.” he puts one of his arms around his shoulder and the three of them start to make for the door.

You open it helpfully and stand aside, letting the two older men half-carry, half-drag Euijoo away.

“Thanks for bringing Nico home in one piece.” you say as you bid them goodbye.

“Good luck.” Fuma gives you a ‘fighting’ gesture with his closed fist in solidarity.

“Thanks, I think I’m going to need it.” you bid them goodbye and close the door, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

In the living room, Nicholas has managed to stay where Kei left him, splayed all over the couch like a pancake, staring upwards. You round the couch and assess the situation; he’s very much out of it, eyes unfocused and mouth ever so slightly opened as if he was fascinated with the colour of your ceiling.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you begin. You decide to get some water and painkillers for the inevitable hangover he’s going to get in a few hours.

There’s a moment of silence while Nicholas shuffles, sitting up but still leaning into the shape of the back of the couch. He seems to register you talking to him, which by the time you stand in front of him with the glass of water, makes him animate suddenly, his body switching gear.

“YN!” he says, as if shocked.

“Yes?” you offer him the glass but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Let’s go dance outside!” he exclaims, his face bright with excitement. He starts to get up but seemingly feels dizzy since he flops back down on the couch, clutching his head. You blink at him, unable to understand the thought process. The request was neither here nor there, really.

“We can’t.” you say simply. “It’s raining. See?” you point toward the window where the drizzle seems to have escalated and the drops are sliding down the glass.

“Yeah, well it rains inside too.” he mumbles when you put his suggestion down.

“Y’know, I’m not sure it does.” you hum, amused at the comment while you place the glass on the coffee table.

“But the shower,” he insists. “it’s inside rain.” he says. You purse your lips, biting back a laugh at how convinced Nicholas seems that the shower is really rain.

“Okay, alright.” you say, nodding to yourself. “Let’s get you to bed, you need to sleep this off.” you start to lean down to take hold of his arm.

“I don’t want to sleep.” he whines immediately. Instead, he takes hold of your arm and looks up at you with big eyes. “I’m hungry.” he pouts.

“Okay, what do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.”

“You will?” his eyes light up with delight. “I’ll eat anything you make.”

The way that alcohol seems to keep its chokehold on Nicholas suggests to you that you should probably opt for something that will ease the problems that would follow.

“Hangover soup it is.” you state, trying to shake Nicholas off so you can get to the kitchen.

When he doesn’t let go, you sigh and tug him up by the hands so he stands up. You help him stumble across the room to the kitchen part and sit him down at the counter where he slumps immediately and rests on his crossed arms, looking up at you, the dopey look resting on his face.

You start to gather the ingredients, which thankfully your fridge contained because you’d been shopping yesterday, but that’s when the babbling starts.

Nicholas seems to have found some new energy because once his mouth opens, it doesn’t seem to close.

“Is that beef? Oh my god, it is, I love beef. Are you going to cook the beef? ‘Cause I know this killer recipe for a beef stew and you just have to try it. I used to have it as a kid but my parents never made it for me, it was always this nanny I had and she was awesome. I really miss auntie, YN, I really miss her. She was the best. Are you going to make the beef like she did? Maybe you can get the recipe from her, oh! You should meet her, she’d love you!” and as much as you wanted to listen to everything, your brain sort of switched off when he got on another tirade as you started slicing the cabbage and other veggies for the soup.

He starts to run out of steam by the time you get to putting the sauce you prepared on the beef and the cabbage and he just sort of leans on the counter, face in the palm of his hands and watches you.

Then comes more absurdity.

Nicholas giggles distinctly and smiles to himself.

You only react out of concern, putting the lid on the pot. “What is it?” you ask.

He shakes his head bashfully and doesn’t say anything but continues smiling.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” you mutter, putting the broth to the beef and adding the cabbage. You’re starting to feel a little paranoid; was he laughing about your cooking? You knew you weren’t a Michelin chef, or even as good as he was in the kitchen, but you weren’t that bad, right?

“Hmm, I’m happy.” he says, fingers squishing his own cheeks.

The statement takes you by surprise.

“You’re drunk.” you correct, unsure what to make of it.

“Don’t you wanna know why I’m happy?” he leans forward, as if trying to get your attention.

You shrug on reflex. “Happiness is fleeting and overrated.” (as is alcohol within your system).

“Boooo! Why are you like this, huh? You’re so cute, you should be happy too!” he insists. You side eye him but let him continue. “My cute wifey should be happy, like me. Let’s be happy together!” he laughs, as if he just solved the world’s problems.

You stare at him, slightly horrified because a) who the hell was he calling his ‘cute wifey’ ‘cause that sure as hell wasn’t you, and b) how would you be happy together when you were living in a loveless marriage?

“Nicholas, I don’t-”

“No! Stop it! I won’t hear it, I want everyone to be happy. End of discussion.” he babbles, clapping his hands together once, as if he’s hitting a slate.

You’re baffled - you’d forgotten what it was like to talk to drunk people.

You hate the way his words pierce through your thick skin and land somewhere soft where it hurts. You knew he was drunk, but he must be drunker than you thought.

If anything, his declarations made you sad because who knew what the future holds? You didn’t dare fantasise these days, for fear that if you did daydream, everything in your life would fall apart and you really would spend a life time with Nicholas instead of finding the love of your life. Would that bring you the happiness you’ve been brainwashed to expect in life?

Despite yourself, you held on to the belief that whoever it was, this figurative love of your life person, they were out there and you might still have a chance to find them even if you were or had been married to Nicholas. The thought was a sick and twisted hope as you prepared the soup, quietly hating yourself for thinking it while you were just hanging out with the man that was for the present circumstances, your husband.

You couldn’t reason with the guilt; its grip was too strong but you were a romantic at heart and nothing that had happened between the two of you had been romantic, at least in your view. Being forced to marry each other wasn’t exactly romantic, was it?

Your soup is finally ready and you turn off the heat, bringing out a bowl. Nicholas has been lying on the counter, his cheek against the cold surface while he sits in one of the tall chairs surrounding your island. The clang of the lid seems to shake him and he straightens up then stares at you suddenly with a newfound focus. You start to think there’s some dirt on your face.

“You’re so pretty with your hair like that.” he notes, as if it just occurred to him. You almost spill the soup in your hands as you process the random compliment. You don’t think much of it though, because this is how you wore your hair almost every day so it was definitely some unconscious thought fuelled by that wretched cocktail.

“Eat up.” you instruct, putting the steaming bowl in front of him. He grins at it, as if it was his first born child. You make a mental note to never bring alcohol in the house.

“Thanks!” he says happily but instead of digging in, he starts to pat his pockets.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, sure you were going to have to solve this one.

“My phone,” he says, searching his pockets to no avail. “but I can’t find it.”

You sigh heavily and reach to your right, picking up the device and holding it out to Nicholas. It had been sitting on the counter the whole time, but how could you expect his drunk ass to see it?

“Ah! Great.” he says and takes it, holding it up to the bowl. “I have to take a picture, my cute wifey made me a meal.” he giggles. You want to scowl at the new nickname but the goofy way he says it makes it hard for you to fight a smile trying to break through.

“Watch it or it might be the last meal I make for you.” you warn, no force behind your words.

You let him eat, just relieved that he’s not saying any more weird things. His battery had run out a while ago so he hadn’t been so bad when he was just resting on the counter. You were already thinking ahead about how you were going to get him to sleep. Drunk people tended to get sleepy after a while so why hadn’t he yet?

The conundrum bothers you while Nicholas finishes eating.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” you test the waters tentatively.

“Nah, I’m not sleepy,” he says while a yawn follows.

“Oh thank god.” you sigh in relief at the yawn. His brain might be saying he’s not sleepy but his body sure was; you just had to wait for his brain to catch up.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” you say quickly. “Well, let’s get you to your room, I won’t make you sleep.” you lie.

It’s barely a trek to his room but you definitely struggle through the hallway because Nicholas for some reason thinks that he’s the size of a tiny lap dog and you practically carry him to bed. You almost manhandle him to lie down, his body falling limp onto the mattress and you pull the blanket over him before he gets any ideas of getting up.

“Hang on a sec,” you tell him, going to get the water, painkillers and a bowl in case any of the iced tea or stew makes a reappearance. “Alright, do you need anything before I go?” you ask.

“There is one thing,” he says after a moment. “come closer.” he says quietly. You worry he might try to snuggle you to death but you indulge him, perching on the edge of his bed. You lean closer, listening. Nicholas looks up at you. “I have to play Mario Kart right now, YN. It’s life or death.” he pleads.

You straighten up immediately, your blood pressure wavering.

“Oh, it’s life or death, alright.” you mutter. “Might kill your dumb ass if I ever catch you drinking again.”

That seems to change his mind pretty quickly and you can almost see his non-existent tail curl between his legs.

“Alright, if you need anything, just shout, I’ll leave the doors open.” you tell him. “Goodnight.” you start to get up but he catches your hand before you can step away.

You’re surprised and think he must have thought of something so you turn, watching him expectantly.

“Don’t go.” he says in a small voice. It was possibly one of the lowest decibels you had ever heard him talk at.

“Why? Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” he admits quietly. His voice makes something lurch in your chest. You gulp, considering his request.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” you promise, sitting back down.

Nicholas nods and cozies up in his blanket, still not letting go of your hand.

You watch him for a moment; his eyes are closed and his chest is falling and rising steadily as if he’s already asleep but you know better from the python grip of his hand around yours. There’s something peaceful though in his expression despite that, the same tranquillity that had made you hesitate before waking him up some time ago.

His words echo in your mind and for a second you let your heart break a little because you knew that you were luckier - you had Maki, but Nicholas was the only heir in his family. You were older but you didn’t exactly remember a time that you didn’t have Maki in your life. You wondered what it was like to grow up alone, missing the presence of a sibling.

After a few minutes, Nicholas seems to drift off, his hand loosening but still wrapped around yours. You want to untangle yourself and go but you worry about waking him, so you slide to the floor and sit against the side of the bed instead, predicting that he’d move around in his sleep and you best avoid that or he could wake up from that too.

What you don’t expect is that you drift off too.

You wake up in the middle of the night for a second but it’s only to shift around, your brain not registering that you’re sleeping on the floor in someone else’s room.

The next time you wake up is in the morning, you can tell by the light in the room, but you’re no longer on the floor. You’re lying in a bed, a blanket thrown over you that you’d been snuggling into. You inhale the smell of the pillow and blanket you’re cocooned in and your eyes snap open.

You forgot this wasn’t your bed.

You flail about with desperation as you sit up and notice that beside you and the cute wolf plushie positioned next to your pillow like a guard dog, Nicholas’ bed is missing its Nicholas. You glance at the clock on the bedside table and do a double take; it’s around eight, on a weekend, and Nicholas was already out of bed?

“Did the sun rise in the west?” you wonder out loud, flicking off the blanket and getting up.

When you open the door of his room and pad into the hallway, you can already hear the distant clattering around in the kitchen. You smooth a hand through your hair and make your way there.

If it wasn’t for the time of day, the image you were seeing wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; Nicholas did spend time in the kitchen cooking too, knowing his way around confidently. Yet, what you were seeing makes you suspicious.

Nicholas notices you coming and gives you a sheepish greeting.

“Morning, you hungry?” he asks.

“Uh,” you let your brain buffer. It felt like a trick question. “I guess.”

“Good, I made breakfast.” he turns back to put the finishing touches on the meal while you sit down at the counter, hesitatingly.

On closer inspection, he does seem hungover - his movements are a little slow and his slouch is visible unlike his usually good posture, but otherwise, there’s no sign of last night’s drunken Nico.

You’re presented with a cup of coffee from your machine, just the way you like it, then a plate of fruit cut up and arranged neatly and finally a pretty large stack of pancakes with a little chocolate sauce that spells out ‘sorry :(’.

“I really am sorry.” Nicholas adds for good measure, twiddling his thumbs opposite you at the counter.

You can’t help but smile at the pancakes a little because they really were cute.

“You’re forgiven.” you say. “Just please never consume alcohol ever again, thanks.”

“You got it.” he promises.

more memes!!! chapter 4 edition <3

A/N: thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated <3 yn finally met the fire brigade! yes i know i didn’t write in taki and harua, that was deliberate, it’s not that i don’t love the babies, it just doesn’t make sense for them to be in this chapter haha, they will appear, i promise. also the vinegar thing is true - it’s good for getting rid of smells, just fyi.

#&team #andteam #&team nicholas #wang yixiang #nicholas x reader #&team x reader #&team fics #&team imagines #&team scenarios #momobani.writes

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the-ultimate-bookworm · 6 months

Text

Just listened to “Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo (I’m OBSESSED with her), and as it is the only song (as far as I know) in the soundtrack released from the movie “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” (which comes out November 17th, I can’t wait!), which is an adaptation based off of the prequel of “The Hunger Games”, if you didn’t know.

Spoiler under the cut, cause this song is literally just *chef’s kiss*

If you haven’t read the series yet, you should.

First of all

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

youtube

There’s the song.

Second,

Can we take a moment to appreciate this song?

Like, it describes the book, like perfectly.

I’m literally going to a deep examination of this song and point out every single reference to the book. Peeps who’ve read the book can add stuff.

“Shadows of us are still dancing

In every room and every hall”

Olay, I don’t think Snow and Lucy Gray ever danced in the book, but this feels like a direct reference to the fact Lucy Gray was a performer, and SHADOWS OF US.

Their broken relationship, obviously.

“There’s snow falling over the city

You thought it would wash away”

Now, a normal person wouldn’t think anything of that, but I, am not a normal person.

Direct reference to “Snow fall on top” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then, in the trailer and the book, Dean Highbottom is like “Do you hear that? It’s the sound of snow falling” or something like that.

“The bitter taste of my fury,

And all the messes you’ve made”

Do I really need to explain this one?

Snow’s just messed up.

“Yeah, you think you got away

But I’m in trees, I’m in the breeze

My footsteps on the ground

You’ll see my face in every place”

LUCY GRAY AND HER MOCKINGJAYS

Also “Wordsworth’s Lucy Gray”

“But you can’t catch me now,”

I don’t know if this is a reference to “She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again” which is Snow not being harmed by Lucy Gray.

Or, if it’s Lucy Gray not being able to get under Snow’s words and lies anymore, and he can’t hurt her anymore either.

“Through wading grass, the months will pass

You’ll feel it all around

I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere”

Wading grass gives me “Deep in the Meadow” vibes, and the months will pass is like, even though it’s been months, years even, Snow’s guilt will be there. He might not show it, but it’s there.

Lucy Gray’s haunting him.

“Bet you thought I’d never do it,

Thought it’d go over my head”

Okay, so here, it’s like, where Lucy Gray is hiding from Snow. She could’ve ignored the signs pretend that she didn’t know, but she chose to show that she knew, because that is Lucy Gray Baird.

“I bet you figured I’d pass with the winter

Be something easy to forget

Oh, you think I’m gone cause I left”

Lucy Gray lives on in District 12, through her songs. Not her name, but her songs.

“You can’t, you can’t catch me now

I’m coming like storm into your town”

This is more in the beginning of the book, where Lucy Gray comes to the Capitol. She made a giant impact, in my opinion, especially with her reptile show.

“You can’t, you can’t catch me now

I’m higher than the hopes you brought down”

Obviously, Lucy Gray’s just better, and Snow is… certainly something

“There’s blood on the side of the mountain,

It’s turning a new shade of red”

Lucy Gray disappearing after we presume Snow shit her, which might’ve caused her death.

“Yeah, sometimes the fire you founded

Don’t burn the way you expected”

This definitely feels like a reference to the OG series, you know “catching fire”, “fire you founded”.

It definitely feels like Snow had something to do with sparking the rebellion, and it got out of hand. The Hunger Games, especially the 75th one, was to prove the Capitol controlled the districts, but the rebellion was sparked because of the and tore it down completely.

“Yeah, you thought that this was the end.”

It wasn’t. You know, Katniss and the rebellion. The mockingjays really could hurt Snow again.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #cant catch me now #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #olivia rodrigo #lucy gray baird #Lucy gray is an icon - you can’t convince me otherwise #omg omg omg #the hunger games #Youtube

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vargskelegore · 1 year

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okay wait—shuri and reader at a college party??

STOPPP OKAY WAIT this has always been on my mind... what if it was a 90s THEMED COLLEGE HOUSE PARTY!!!!! LIKE WHAT!!!!

i’m currently writing this headcanon while listening to let the beat hit ‘em by lisa lisa & cult jam and crush on you by lil kim ft. lil cease & biggie.... but my other playlist is a great example of what i think would be played at this party: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aVTa1pDTD4dUcUPcgQJY8?si=bcb0cd1b5c64493a

again, i switch between 2nd and 3rd person when i do headcanons. so sorry if its confusing!! and as always, this is black reader.

imagine reader is getting her the perfect outfit for it tho..

reader is a cheapskate and would absolutely take her to the thrift store

tbh reader just like me fr

anyways the perfect 90s outfit is made for shuri at the thrift

we talking about a whole ass tracksuit as we have seen before

not that goofy shit thats usually costume pieces, a real ass vintage tracksuit

WITH THE SHADES LOL

fine as hell.... giving stud zaddy amen.

as for reader, i think they are channeling their inner lil kim... change my mind.

reader is a bit of a thickie in my eyes so its just perfect

especially since they’re a majorette

so fast forward to the party itself

shuri just does not leave readers side bc reader knows this stuff better than her

it’s all fun and games til reader is approached by one of her fellow majorettes

“girl i think you should go do the dance battle!”

shuri is quite literally about to choke on that damn punch (reader told her ass not to drink it but because shuri is shuri, she did it anyway.)

“..shuri are you okay with me going down there?” reader has these puppy eyes, they’re a bit worried about leaving her alone, but shuri reassures them that its ok

“no, it’s fine! go have fun-- i’ll just be here.” she has this cute ass smile on her face and thats all reader needs before she goes out on the dance floor.

the song that’s playing??? why you get funky on me by today (obviously from the house party movie soundtrack, duh!!! that movie is iconic)

the dance battle is against this freshman

that’s actually pretty good at dancing

but reader is better, obvi. they’re the leader of the majorettes.

that battle is pretty intense.

and if you thought shuri wasn’t looking

why would you think that

you already know shuri was staring mad hard at reader behind those shades.

we talking ‘why is the room suddenly getting so hot????’

shuri you know damn well why.

anyway, this dance battle is obviously something reader wins.. why wouldn’t they???

when reader goes back over to shuri, she is trying SO HARD to make it seem like she was casually watching

the tension between them now? unreal. crazy. reader definitely thinks its giving slowburn fanfiction.

and of course come & talk to me by jodeci is playing. u must be out of yo damn mind if u didn’t think it would.

everyone else is on the floor dancing but reader and shuri are just standing in a corner with cups in their hands, staring at each other.

who tf is gonna speak first now????

“...”

“i hope you enjoyed the-”

“i thought you did really well.” not reader and shuri speaking at the SAME TIME. so cliche but needed.

the giggles that escape both of y’alls lips??? ugh unmatched so cute

that entire time shuri is really wondering if this’ll be more than just a friendship. because she hates to admit it, but shes falling for you HARD.

every night she goes to bed thinking about reader but this just made it worse.

now shes gonna be thinking about reader and their gyrating hips (not like she wasn’t already tbh, reader is a majorette after all and shuri goes to every damn game LOL)

as the night is coming to a close, you two leave the party at around 2 am.

shuri drops you off at your room first before walking to her own dorm.

the moment shuri gets into that bed, shes cursed with those thoughts about you.

and don’t think reader wasn’t thinking the same.

the tracksuit and shades combo had them in a chokehold.

more than reader would like to admit.

#sam answers asks #sam is obsessed with shuri #shuri #shuri udaku #shuri udaku x reader #shuri x reader #shuri headcanons #hbcu!shuri

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actuallyidontgiveadamn · 1 year

Text

Really out of nowhere but I rewatched some of fma03 eps and im gonna rant

I'm just so done with smiling politely saying that fma03 and fmab are both great sorry i cant anymore. Just no

So if you in love with fmab im warning you it probably won't be a good read for you, so feel free to ignore this, block me or idk read this and give it a thought

0. I really dont understand the glorification of manga over anime adaptations. Like people who are making the adaptation are not artists and creators themselves? What makes mangaka better than others and absolutely indisputable, seriously?

1. 'Oh no long introduction and fillers' that actually allowed for Hughes' character development before his death. Seriously if i mention his death among my homies I'll get lots of faces clearly going through some ptsd level flashbacks, it was that impactful. I still need to take a breather when im rewatching before diving into that ep.

2. Nina. Yet again got more time to grow on us and thus aquired higher trauma inducing levels.

3. Ishval massacre and aftermath are WAY MORE VISIBLE in fma03. First of all Ishvalans are depicted as human beings, and not some background, and we get lots more on their sufferings, raids on camps, racism towards them, etc etc etc

4. Scar. Oh boi how do i even go about this. So without raging much about that beefy obviously wrong dude who got 'sense' bitten into him and started working with the oppressing gov in fmab, we have a wronged and tormented survivor of a genocide, who was justified in his vengeance and rage, was depicted as an attractive person of color despite his antagonistic role and was seriously almost cheered on in his actions by the narrartive. His interactions with his people and his moral dilemmas made his character possibly the deepest and most thought out one in the series.

5. The Rockbell doctors being killed by their own government. That's a waaaaay more interesting and damning detail on our government affiliated protagonists than just dumping their murder on a delirious patient.

6. Homunculi had their own will and desires and a way more developed story arc that had a huge impact on protagonists' morals. Being created by the humans who were desperate to bring back their loved ones and both parties are getting tormented by it?? Characters strongly driven by their own goals and staggered by their relations to their creators vs some indifferent goons in fmab. Just compare Sloths and their impact on the stories and protags.

7. Final conflict being a fight with god and his intricate plans in fmab, versus final battle vs a selfish pretty much usual person who had thrown everyone under the bus in pursuit of immortality. Adds so much more desperation flavor. Suddenly your hero journey doesn't end in epic battle for the sake of the mankind, as you would like it to be. It's just to oppose one awful person with too much power and zero care about anyone else. That's raw and that's way more plausible and relatable in our mundane lives.

8. Overall darker tone and themes of the fma03.

9. MUSIC. I dont remember a single track from fmab, but i went really out of my way in my teenage years to find internet access and pirate fma soundtrack and cry listening to it

10. ART. Sorry but don't tell me fmabs flat colors are anything to 03's soft tones and lighting

So yeah sorry, but I'll take the dark and gritty tragedy over just another shounen with doubtful messages each and every time

#fma #fma03 #fma 2003 #anti fmab

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bored-writer101 · 1 year

Text

Sam Winchester X Reader|Supernatural Rewrite|1.Pilot

A/N: well, the time has finally come. i’m finally posting my supernatural rewrite😂 huge shoutout to @uncouth-the-fifth for inspiring me (she also has a supernatural rewrite that is absolutely phenomenal that you guys should definitely go check out). i’ve been trying to start a rewrite basically ever since i started writing fanfic for this show, but it has never worked out. but i’ve finally figured it out! (kinda lol, i’m doing my best😂😭). i hope you all enjoy! (i wrote this with female reader in mind but i use gender neutral pronouns) {also here’s a supernatural themed spotify playlist if y’all want a soundtrack while you listen <3}

Words: 13,673

Series Masterlist

(image from pinterest)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA | October 31st, 2005

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted upright in bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You didn't get much of a chance to do that though. Your phone began to ring loudly from your bedside table, making you flinch. You reached out and fumbled around in the darkness for a few seconds before your fingers wrapped around the cold metal. You used your thumb to flip it open and held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you could hear the shake in your own voice.

"Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?" you immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"I'm alright, Dean. I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"The usual one?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response.

"Well, we can do all our usual remedies after I pick you up," you could hear in his voice that he had a huge grin on his face.

"What? I thought you were in New Orleans?"

"I was. I had been waitin' on my dad, but he never showed. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a few weeks," Dean told you.

"So? There were plenty of times that we weren't able to get a hold of him on a hunt when we were kids," you said, skeptical that John was truly missing.

John had always been one to drink a few too many in celebration of a hunt well done. You, Sam, and Dean would think something terrible had happened to him, but he would eventually stumble back in a few weeks later. The longest he had left the three of you alone was almost three months. Bobby stopped letting John take you on hunts after he found out about that.

"This is different. Somethin's happened, somethin' bad, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

"Are you sure he's not just out on another bender?" you asked, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm sure, Y/N. I can explain more after I pick you up. Please, I need you to trust me on this," Dean pleaded through the phone.

You were hesitant to say yes. Usually you'd hop at the chance to go on a hunt with Dean, but this was different. You could hear in his voice that Dean believed that John was missing, and that he was worried. You trusted Dean, but you didn't trust his father. It could be another one of his 'hunter trials' to test if you were worthy to be hunters. He hadn't orchestrated one of those in a long time, but maybe that meant you were due for another one.

"Y/N? You still there?" Dean asked when you didn't respond.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still here. Just thinkin'."

"Ya' really gotta think that hard about it?"

There was another moment of silence while you desperately tried and failed to find the words. You had so many thoughts swirling in your mind that you didn't even know where to start. Before you could complain that you had just woken up, Dean's voice was in your ear again.

"Come on, Y/N," he was not helping you think.

"Fine! I'll come with you," you relented, giving in to the sad puppy dog eyes you couldn't see, but you knew he was doing.

"Well, good... Because I'm only an hour and a half away," you heard him chuckle, and you decided you were going to smack him upside the head when he got here.

"And what were you gonna do if I said no?" you questioned.

"Kidnap you. Obviously."

"Like I'd let you."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said with a chuckle. "Just be packed and ready, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you mocked him playfully, "See you when you get here."

"See you when I get there," he said, ignoring your teasing.

You heard the click of the call ending, then silence. You were frozen in place at first, and the memories of your nightmare came flooding back; your father's eyes closing and never opening again... You shook your head free of the image before finally dropping your hand holding the phone into your lap. The light from the still open screen hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust to the sudden light. You sat there for a few more seconds before pushing the covers off and forcing yourself out of bed. You got dressed in comfy clothes, knowing that you'd be spending a lot of time curled up in the passenger seat of the impala.

You tried to be quiet as you crept around the house, but you should have known better than to try and sneak around a hunter's home. You were leaned down in front of the open fridge, thinking of what to write on the 'see you later' note you were going to leave behind, when you heard someone clear their throat. You stood up straight and spun around quickly to face them. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a deep frown, and furrowed brows that made the creases in his forehead all too prominent.

"Good morning?" you said hesitantly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked; he had never been one for nuance.

"Um, out on a hunt," you told him with a little more confidence than before.

Even though you were twenty three, Bobby's gaze made you feel like you were sixteen again. It made you feel as if you were sneaking out to meet Sam and Dean for a late night joyride in whatever rust bucket that Dean had found(hot wired). You knew Bobby wasn't going to stop you from going, but you still didn't want to piss him off before you left. You weren't sure when you'd be back.

"Dean picking you up?" he asked, his tone a bit softer than before, but he was still frowning.

You nodded at his question, "he should be here soon."

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll be careful. And that you won't let Dean talk you into anything stupid," Bobby wagged his pointer finger at you as he said this.

"I'm always careful," you told him, even if that wasn't entirely truthful, but you'd say anything to reassure Bobby you'd be alright; the last thing you wanted him to do was worry his head off, "also I'm usually the one talking Dean out of doing anything stupid," this statement had a little more truth to it.

Bobby didn't look convinced. Not that he ever did, but you didn't want to leave him annoyed with you. You took a couple steps forward and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden hug. It didn't take long before Bobby hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

"I love you, dad. I'll be back before you know it."

Bobby sighed deeply, "I love you too, kiddo," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Bobby wasn't your biological father, but he had stepped up and been your dad for over a decade. Any other day, he would have scolded you for calling him dad. He would tell you it isn't fair to your father, that you shouldn't try to forget or replace him. You always reassured him you would never forget though. What you don't tell him is that you'll never be able to forget the image of father dying in your arms as you beg for him to keep his eyes open. Before you could dwell on the dark memory for too long, you heard a short honk of a car horn outside. You pulled away and stood up straight in front of Bobby, raising a brow at him as if to silently ask, 'you gonna be alright?'

"Just go. Don't forget to call every once in a while so I know you're still alive" Bobby gestured toward the door.

"I will," you said as you walked to the front door, picking your duffel bag up off the floor, "bye, Bobby," you turned and waved to him with a smile, opting to not call him dad this time.

"Bye, Y/N," he waved back halfheartedly.

You turned back and headed out the front door, a rush of cold air biting at your exposed skin. If you were gone long enough, there would surely be a thick blanket of snow covering the junk yard by the time you got back. You noticed the impala in the driveway before looking up at the sky. You shut the door behind you as you admired the fiery shades of red and orange that were painted across the sky by the sunrise. You admired it for a moment before stepping down the porch steps. The gravel crunched under your boots as you walked over to the passenger side of the impala. You opened the back door and threw duffel bag in before getting into the passenger seat.

"Morning," you said to Dean once you had plopped down.

"Mornin'," he replied, wasting no time in pulling out of the driveway and back onto the road, gravel crunching loudly under the tires all the while, "I brought you some breakfast," he pointed to the fast food bag sitting on the seat next to you.

"Thanks," you mumbled as you grabbed the bag and pulled out the breakfast sandwich Dean had ordered for you.

You unwrapped your food and ate silently, the only sound coming from the Bob Seger tape that was playing softly through the speakers. You recognized the song to be Against The Wind. You thought back to the last time you saw Dean, and you realized it had been a few months. You kept in touch over the phone the best you could, but he had never been good at that, and you weren't much better. The last time you had seen him was about four months ago. You had gotten into a fight over John. Most of your fights revolved around him. It had been a simple misunderstanding during a hunt that made John flip his shit, and you were never one to take shit from him. Dean had barely made a move to defend you, and it hurt. He had apologized to you later, but it had been a Winchester style apology; a halfhearted one. You couldn't help but remember that fight now. Dean cleared his throat loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel has he hummed along to the music. You crumpled up the sandwich paper and threw it in the bag.

"So, we have a few stops to make," he told you with a grin, obviously trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, raising a questioning brow at him.

"Yeah, the first being a gas station. You can pick out some snacks for our drive."

"Good, because you always grab barbecue chips," you complained teasingly.

"What's wrong with a little BBQ?" he said, enunciating each letter in 'BBQ.'

"There's nothing necessarily wrong with barbecue, but eating them for every road trip can get a little boring."

"Fair enough. You still have to grab me a bag of them though."

"Yeah, will do."

Dean pulled off the main road and into the gas station parking lot. He pulled up to a gas pump and turned off the engine. He took out a few fives from his wallet and handed them to you. You said a quiet 'thanks' before you both climbed out of the impala.

"Don't forget my BBQ!" Dean called after you as you headed into the convenience store while he went to the gas pump.

It was only a few minutes before the two of you were back in your seats. You handed Dean his barbecue chips and a root beer before dropping your own snacks in your lap. Dean tore into his chips like a hungry bear, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh at him as you opened your own snack.

"So, you gonna tell me why you think John is missing?" you asked, once he had chewed and swallowed.

"I know he's missing. He was hunting something that was killing men, and he left me a concerning voicemail that had some EVP," he explained, "I can let you listen to it when we get to our next destination," you furrowed your brows at his words, but you had a sudden realization.

"You wanna pick up Sam," you said simply.

Dean looked over at you with wide eyes, "how'd you know? You read my mind or somethin'?"

"We're gonna be in California, and we're gonna pass his place anyway. Just an educated guess," you shrugged, "also I'm not a mind reader, I'm a medium," you added.

"It's all the same to me," Dean said with a shrug as he started the impala and pulled out of the gas station; you decided not to lecture him on the differences between psychics and mediums.

"What if he says no?" you asked the question on both your minds after a few moments of silence.

Dean didn't respond, but you knew he had heard you. You looked over to see him expressionless, staring out at the open road.

"Dean?"

"You sure you're not a mind reader?" he tried to joke to change the subject, but you didn't laugh, and he frowned at your furrowed brows, "he won't. Dad's missing and we need his help. He has to say yes," you wondered how many time he had told himself that.

You were at an impasse, which frequently happened when you had to get in the middle of Winchester family drama. A part of you didn't want Sam to say yes. You knew he wanted to give up hunting for good, and you didn't blame him. You only wanted what was best for him, but there was another part of you that wanted him to say yes. You missed him every day. You tried to tell yourself you weren't pulling him all the way back into hunting, that you were just looking for John. A small voice in the back of your head knew better though. You knew this life loved to sink its claws in and never let go. Only a lucky few were able to fully detach themselves from the hunting lifestyle. Even then, it was impossible to scrub the stain of the hunting life off your hands. You weren't sure which answer you wanted Sam to give.

You and Dean sat in silence for awhile, both caught up in your own thoughts. You glanced over at Dean as the song that was playing came to an end. You took in Dean's tense posture, and how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You recognized the beginning of Black Dog by Led Zeppelin playing quietly through the speakers, and you immediately reached out to turn it up. You were the only person Dean allowed to touch his radio. You rested your arm on the back of the seat and leaned your body into his side slightly.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move. Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove," you sang along loudly into his ear.

You played the air guitar and you saw Dean glance at you from the corner of his eye. You could see him trying to hide his smirk.

"Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thang. Gonna make you burn gonna make you sting," you continued to sing along, gently nudging Dean's side with your elbow.

You saw him start to drum his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat as you continued to play air guitar.

"Hey hey baby when you walk that way. Watch your honey drip, can't keep away," you and Dean sang in unison.

You sang along to the rest of the song together. You occasionally played air guitar while Dean pretended to play the drums; you had to remind him to put his hands back on the wheel a few times. The song eventually came to an end, and the next song began playing. Dean reached out and turned it down slightly.

"I missed that," you said with a smile.

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me now," he said with a groan.

"What? No 'chick flick moments'?" you said sarcastically, making air quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. No chick flick moments," Dean repeated seriously.

"Whatever you say... Jackass," you said quietly with a smirk.

"Shithead," Dean was quick with his comeback, and he reached over to pinch your side, but you quickly swatted his hand away while laughing.

There wasn't much tension between you to begin with, but the little bit that had been there faded away with the end of the song. The rest of the long ride was filled with boring games of eye spy and spotting out of state license plates. You were glad to be in the impala with Dean again. You wished it was under better circumstances, but you were excited to see Sam again too.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

The sun had long since set by the time you arrived at Sam's apartment building. You had your window rolled down, the humid California night air made your exposed skin feel sticky, but you enjoyed the breeze. Dean pulled into the parking lot and parked up close to the front door of the building. You both unbuckled your seatbelts, but he put his hand out to stop you from opening your door.

"I'll go get him," he said with a mischievous grin on his face, so you nodded and sat back in your seat, "I'll be quick," he said before hopping out of the impala.

You watched Dean creep up to the front door of the building before he slinked inside and out of view. You leaned out of your open window to take in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't a great time to be alone with your thoughts, since all you could think about was that you were seeing Sam again after two years. You had kept in touch over the phone, but it wasn't the same as meeting up in person. Living almost across the country from each made it hard to hang out. At least that's what you told yourself. Sam had asked you to come visit a few months ago, but you had declined. You didn't think you'd be able to face him alone.

You didn't have to be left alone for long though. Before you knew it, you could hear the distant sounds of the brothers bickering. You knew those sounds all too well. You could hear them arguing about something, but you couldn't make you any words. You were about to yell at them to come out when the door finally opened. Dean came out first, Sam following close behind. Sam was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke, and Dean rolled his eyes. You opened the door and stepped out of the impala, causing both of them to turn and look at you.

"Y/N?" Sam uttered the moment he saw you.

You smiled wide as you shut the passenger door and started walking towards him. It only took Sam a few strides to meet you in the middle with open arms. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight and almost lifting you up off the ground. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him back just as tight, cherishing your first hug after two years apart.

"It's so good to see you," Sam said before pulling away; his smile was gentle and sweet, and you forgot how much you had missed those dimples of his.

"I didn't get a hug when I picked you up," you heard Dean mumble from behind you.

You turned away from Sam to face him. He was stood there pouting slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. You shook your head with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry Dean. Did you want a hug? I can give you one too," you said a bit teasingly, but only because no matter what answer he gave, you were hugging him.

"No, it's fine-" you had your arms wrapped around his middle before he could finish speaking.

You hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms loosely around you. He gave you a quick squeeze before patting you softly on the back. You pulled away and he shook his head at you with a small smile before turning towards the trunk.

"Anyway," he mumbled before popping the trunk and lifting the spare tire hatch inside to reveal all his hunting equipment, "where the hell did I put that thing?" he said to himself as he rummaged around the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he leaned against the side of the impala to watch Dean rifle through the disorganized mess.

"I was workin' my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans" Dean replied without looking up.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"I'm 26, dude," Dean deadpanned, and you laughed.

Sam looked over at you with raised brows, which made you laugh even harder, "shut up, both o' ya's. Alright, found it," Dean picked up a small manila folder and pulled a small stack of papers out.

"Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" Dean handed Sam a piece of paper off the top of the stack; Sam took it and held it out for both of you to see, "they found his car but he'd vanished; completely M.I.A.," there was a photo of a middle aged man next to an article about his disappearance.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested.

"Kidnapped by a ghost maybe," you joked as you nudged Sam with your elbow.

"Yeah, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92," Dean slid a paper off the stack for each year he said, "ten of 'em over the past twenty years," he reached out and snatched the paper from Sam's hand, throwing it back on the stack, "all men, all same 5 mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean reached out and grabbed a tape recorder from off the top of the mess. He pressed play and you could hear John's voice come through the speaker, but it was staticky and garbled.

"Dean.... something-starting to happen...-think it's serious... I need t-... figure out what's going on... Be very careful, Dean.... We're all in danger...," a chill went up your spine as you listened to the message.

"You know there's EVP on that?," Sam said the moment Dean pressed pause.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean said with an amused smirk, and Sam only shook his head at him.

You couldn't focus on their banter, because you knew what was coming next. You stared expectantly down at the tape recorder in Dean's hand. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral.

"You think you'll be able to get anything from a recording?" Dean asked.

"I might get something, we'll just have to see," you replied with a shrug.

"Alright," Dean said before pressing play again.

"I can never go home..." a woman whispered through the static, and you felt another chill up your spine, but this time it was accompanied by a wave of grief and intense anger.

Your hands gripped the edge of the trunk so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Dean looked over at you expectantly but you shook your head at him.

"Nothing helpful," you muttered as you continued to shake your head back and forth, trying to shake away the invasive feelings.

"It's alright," Dean reached out and rubbed your back soothingly for a moment before tossing the tape recorder back into the trunk.

Sam quickly took Dean's place as he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and rubbed your bicep gently. Dean closed the trunk and stood up tall. He looked up at Sam expectantly, who only sighed deeply. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek.

"Alright. I'll go," Sam said finally, "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," he let his arm fall from around your shoulders and you shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam turned to head back to his apartment.

"I have an interview," Sam said simply as he turned back to look at Dean.

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate" Sam explained slowly.

"Law school?" Dean asked with a questioning smirk.

"We got a deal or not?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question.

"Yeah, fine," Dean said after a moment of silence, and you noticed him clench his jaw in annoyance.

Sam nodded and turned to head back into his apartment building. Dean sat on the closed trunk and looked over at you with furrowed brows.

"Did you know about this law school thing?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I did," you told him, honestly.

"You guys talk regularly or something?" you heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

"Not all that regularly. We just update each other on major life events occasionally," that wasn't entirely true, but you'd rather not have to sit in a car with the brothers being silently angry at each other.

Dean didn't say anything else, instead he looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with his shoe. You knew Sam and Dean hadn't talked since Sam had left for college. Dean missed his little brother, and you didn't blame him. You just wanted to smack him upside the head for being so stubborn. He certainly wasn't the only Winchester you wanted to knock some sense into.

Sam came back down a few minutes later, emerging from the door of his apartment building carrying a duffel bag that mirrored your own. He tossed his in the trunk as you opened the door to the backseat. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the drivers door.

"You don't want shotgun? You had it first, you're welcome to it."

"Nah, I'm alright. Sam always gets shotgun anyway," you said, and Sam shot you a grateful look.

You smiled back at him before getting into the backseat. You pushed your duffel bag to the floor, then you slid to sit in the middle seat, like you always did when it was the three of you. The brothers got into their respective seats before Dean started the impala.

"Alright, get comfortable kids," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

A FEW MILES OUTSIDE JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a car door opening and closing. You blinked rapidly as you tried to let your eyes adjust to the sudden light. You lifted your head up off your makeshift pillow that you had made from your balled up jacket. You rubbed your sore neck as you cursed yourself for forgetting a spare blanket or pillow. You somehow always forgot to bring one.

You looked around at the scenery outside the impala. Not that there was much scenery to speak of. It was a clear day, no clouds to block the sun's warm rays. You turned to your left to see a rickety old convenience store, then turned to the right to see a couple gas pumps that looked like they had seen better days. Sam had his door propped open with his foot as he went through Dean's box of cassette tapes that sat on his lap. You could imagine the disgusted face he was making at all of Dean's classic rock tapes. The warm breeze felt refreshing as you worked on waking up.

"Hey," you heard Dean call out, and you turned to your right to see him through the window, "you want breakfast?" he asked Sam, holding up a few beef sticks and a bag of chips; your stomach growled as you saw the food in his hands.

"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head before going back to the box of tapes, "so, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam called out to Dean.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied as he placed the nozzle back in the gas pump.

"You guys probably shouldn't be talking so loud about hunting and credit card scams," you said, loud enough so Dean could hear from outside the car.

The drivers side door opened a moment later and Dean climbed inside, continuing to talk loudly, having not heard or cared about your advice. You looked around and realized there didn't seem to be anyone else at the gas station. You just hoped the clerk didn't hear Dean's noisy confession.

"Y'know, all we do is apply for the cards. It's not our fault they send 'em."

You rolled your eyes at him. He set a soda down in the cup holder, and you reached out and snatched a beef stick from his hand. Dean silently handed you a bottle of water that you hadn't even seen him holding. You took it gratefully before setting it down next to you so you could rip open the wrapper of the beef stick.

"What names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, a bit quieter, taking your advice as he swung his long legs back into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal," Dean said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"That sounds about right," Sam said before looking back down at the box of cassette tapes in his lap, "I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection," he said with a sigh.

"Why?" you almost laughed at how defensive Dean sounded.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" Sam paused, grabbing a cassette and holding it up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" he held up a cassette for each band he named, "it's the greatest hits of mullet rock," you were a little offended, considering the fact that you loved those bands too, but you knew Sam was only teasing Dean.

"House rules, Sammy," Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam's hand, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," you couldn't stop your laughter as Dean slotted the tape into the radio and pressed play.

Dean dropped the cassette case back in the box before he reached out and snatched the box from Sam. He tossed it back to you. You caught it with ease, setting it in the seat next to you. You smiled at the masking tape labels and crude handwriting on a majority of them. You spotted one that read 'Happy 21st B-Day D!' and it made you smile.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam started, ignoring your giggles as he turned to Dean, "it's Sam, okay?" he demanded, but in a gentle way that only he could manage.

The music had already began to play, Battery playing softly through the speakers. Dean reached out and slowly turned the knob to increase the volume. Dean raised his voice along with the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Dean said as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY, CALIFORNIA

Sam gave you the task of calling the hospital in the area for anyone matching John's description, while he called the morgue. It didn't take very long before you hung up the phone, having received the information you needed. You noticed a sign that read 'JERICHO 7' whiz by as Sam ended his call.

"Alright, so there's no one matching dad at the morgue."

"Or the hospital," you added.

"So that's something, I guess," Sam said.

You suddenly felt your chest tighten, and your heartbeat quickened as you seemed to be nearing a bridge. You could see it in the distance, and the only clouds in the sky covered the entire length of it. The dark clouds contrasted against the blue sky. You felt your heart drop at the sight of police cars parked near the bridge. Dean seemed to notice too as he glanced at Sam, then back at the road ahead. You could see a couple cops stood around a blue car that was parked sideways, blocking off the bridge.

"Check it out," Dean said as you neared the action.

Sam leaned forward with narrowed eyes to try to make out more details. As you got closer, it felt like a hand was being wrapped around your throat. You shivered despite the warm California air that was making you sweat. Dean pulled off on the side of the road a couple yards away from the bridge, and you were finally able to take a deep breath. There was a cloud of death that hung over that bridge.

You all sat there and watched for a few moments before Dean turned off the impala. Suddenly, he reached over and opened the glovebox. He grabbed out a small box full of fake ID cards that had his and John's pictures on them. You sighed and leaned back in your seat.

"They're gonna get suspicious if all three of us go up," you said as Dean rifled through the box.

"Then stay in the car," he answered quickly, not looking up.

"I have to get to the bridge to get anything."

"Then just go to the edge of the bridge and do your thing while Sam and I go talk to them," Dean said as he pulled out an ID from the pile before shoving the box back in the glovebox, "let's go," he said as he opened his door and climbed out of the impala.

Sam turned to you with his mouth hung open in surprise, "fake ID's? Really?" he asked, obviously annoyed with Dean.

"They're helpful," you said with a nod, "I don't like using them all that much, though," you added quickly when he shook his head disapprovingly.

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of the impala. You couldn't pinpoint how many people had died on that bridge, but you knew it had to be many. At least one, by the looks of the empty car and confused looking cops. Sam's door shutting loudly made you force yourself to start walking. You and Sam caught up with Dean, and you took your usual place in-between the brothers, walking quickly to keep in stride with them.

"You guys find anything?" you heard a man on the right side of the bridge yell down to what you assumed were men combing the river.

"No! Nothing!" was the distant and echoed response.

Once you reached the beginning of the bridge, you slowed and departed from the brothers, heading to the left. Sam and Dean continued walking toward the blue car and the cops. You heard them begin talking with the officers, but their voices faded away as you neared the edge of the bridge. You reached out and placed your hands on the railing, using them to brace yourself as you leaned over to look down into the rushing river water.

A wave of anger washed over you, similar to the one you had felt before, when you listened to the EVP on John's voicemail. It was accompanied by a bitter sadness, and this time it was much more intense. It suddenly shifted into grief, then all you felt was cold, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the river water on your head. You shivered as a name appeared in your mind. You turned quickly to look for Sam and Dean, spotting them walking back toward the start of the bridge. You began to speed walk over to them. You watched Dean take step in front of Sam, and turned to face him as they stopped walking. They looked like they are arguing again. You shook your head as you stomped over.

"I need a pen," you demanded as you walked up to them.

"Woah, are you okay?" Sam said as he look at you, concern etched into his features.

"I'm fine, I just need a pen," you repeated, "I got a name."

"Y/N, you're crying," Sam said as he pulled his sleeve up over his thumb and wiped your left cheek while you reached up and wiped you right; sure enough there was a trail were tears had streamed down your face.

"I didn't even know I was. I don't think it was really me crying, anyway. She made me feel how she felt before she died, if that makes any sense," you rambled on as Sam wiped the rest of your tears away before taking a step back, and you didn't fail to notice the raised eyebrow look Dean gave you and Sam.

You were about to raise your hand to hit Dean on the arm, but you heard an authoritative voice come from your right that stopped you, "can I help you three?"

You turned to see the sheriff with two tall FBI agents standing behind him. All three of them stared down at you through their sunglasses. You typically didn't let cops rattle you, but the FBI were a different story. You did your best to stand up tall and stare them down right back. The sheriff looked the three of you over, his eyes landing on you.

"No, sir. We were just leaving," Dean told him.

The FBI agents didn't seem to have time for you, as they ignored Dean and walked around him, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean joked as they passed him.

You wound back and slapped him in the arm. He laughed and rubbed his bicep as the three of you walked past the sheriff. You could feel his eyes on you as you left. Dean finally pulled out a pen and handed it to you as you walked back to the impala. You spread out your palm and wrote down the name you had been given earlier.

"Constance Welch," you said to them as you held your hand out for both of them to see.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"The girl who made me cry," you tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed; he never liked when the ghosts affected you like that, "I think she's the spirit that's killing the guys," you added, quickly.

"Well, we'll have to go dig up some more information. They mentioned something about the girlfriend of the kid who died. We can go talk to her and ask her a couple questions, try to figure out why he was killed," Dean explained as the three of you got into the impala.

"Are we gonna go wave fake badges in her face?" you asked, not sure if that was the best idea, "maybe Sam and I can talk to her while you go look up Constance," you suggested, and Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror before nodding.

"Alright, fine. But I better not get stuck with the busywork next time," he said with a huff.

JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

The sidewalks were mostly empty as the impala slowly rolled down the main road of town. It was still fairly early in the day, but you expected more people to be out. It was the weekend after all. When you saw the sign above the closed movie theater, it made sense why the streets were mostly barren. 'EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING; SUNDAY 8 PM; BE SAFE OUT THERE,' was the message to all the townsfolk.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean nodded to a girl taping a pink paper on the brick wall just to the left of the theater.

Dean drove a few more feet before pulling up to the side of the road. You and Sam hopped out, and you leaned down to look at Dean through the open passenger door.

"I'll call you when we're done," you told him and he nodded.

You stood up straight and Sam shut his door. You turned and walked the few steps toward the girl. You tried not to seem too intimidating, but with Sam standing at 6'4, that was a bit of a challenge. You hoped his young face and signature puppy dog eyes would help your cause. She taped a missing poster to the wall that read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE' underneath a smiling photo of Troy. You noticed the other missing posters that were hung up too, and you quickly realized they were all of the pervious victims you had seen in Dean's file.

"You must be Amy," you said as you approached her.

"Yeah," she replied flatly, not looking up as she secured the paper to the wall with another piece of tape.

"Yeah, Troy must have told you about us. I'm his aunt Y/N, and this is his uncle Sam," you explained to the girl with a smile.

"He never mentioned you to me," she said before turning and walking away, but you were quick to walk in stride with her.

"Well, that's Troy I guess," you said, adding in a fake chuckle, "we're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said as he took a step in front of her to stop her from walking any further.

Another girl came up to Amy, gently placing a hand on her arm, "hey, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Amy said with a nod, never taking her eyes off Sam.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked her, and she nodded.

Amy and her friend, who introduced herself as Rachel, led you down the street to a diner. It was mostly empty, other than an older couple sitting at a booth in the back right. You also noticed a seemingly bored waitress standing by the counter. She barely even noticed the four of you walk in, too busy looking down at her cellphone. Amy and Rachel slid into a booth in the far left of the diner. You and Sam slid into the side opposite them. Amy waved down the waitress and you and Sam ordered coffee, while the girls ordered sodas.

"What happened the night Troy disappeared?" you asked her gently.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did," she told you, on the verge of tears.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

Amy fidgeted nervously with the charm of her necklace; it was a black pentagram. Sam took the words right out of your mouth before you could speak them.

"I like your necklace."

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," She laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

You and Sam both chuckled. He glanced at you, and you shared a look of understanding.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam explained to Amy.

"Did Troy believe in or practice anything satanic? Or was the necklace just a harmless gift?" you asked her, trying to get any sort of lead.

"It was a just a gift. I think he ordered it off the internet," she told you with a shrug.

"Well, the way Troy disappeared, somethin's not right. If either of you know anything..." Sam trailed off.

Amy and Rachel slowly turned and looked at each other.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel replied.

You and Sam spoke in tandem, "what do they talk about?" you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed Sam always knowing what you were going to say.

Rachel paused, glancing over at Amy before she rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, speaking quietly, "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," the name Constance Welch flashed in your mind as Rachel spoke, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever," you glanced over at Sam who was listening intently.

"Well, let's hope it's just a legend, yeah? Thank you for answering our questions. If you think of anything else that could help," you paused as you grabbed a napkin from the holder and pulled out the pen that Dean had given you earlier, "don't be afraid to call," you wrote your phone number down on the napkin and handed it to her, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said and you almost laughed at how diplomatic he sounded.

You and Sam slid out of the booth and headed for the front door. The bell above the door dinged as Sam opened it, letting you go through first. You noticed the sun starting to slowly slip below the horizon. The breeze didn't do much to cool you off, the humid air making your forehead slick with sweat. You used the back of your hand to wipe off as much moisture from your face as you could. You gestured for Sam to follow you as you started walking down the road toward the motel you had seen earlier. You pulled your cell phone out as you walked and flipped it open, quickly finding Dean's contact. You pressed call and brought the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he picked up.

"You get anything?" he asked you eagerly.

You didn't think twice about his lack of greeting, instead you answered his question immediately, "you probably got more than we did. We got told a local legend of a woman who was murdered on Centennial, and her ghost hitchhikes and picks up poor suckers who never get seen again," you told him, but you had a feeling he was going to fill you in on the missing pieces.

"They almost got it right. Funny how much a story can change over twenty years" Dean said, more to himself than to you.

"Hold on," you said before pulling the phone away from your ear and putting him on speakerphone, "What actually happened?" you asked him.

"She committed suicide. Jumped off the bridge where they found that kids car."

"So it's gotta be her... Did it say why she did it?"

Dean sighed sadly, "the article said she left her kids in the bathtub and they drowned. She had called 911 but it had already been too late. They found her an hour later in the river."

"Geez, no wonder I felt so much grief," you muttered, more to yourself, but Sam heard it all too clearly, "did the article say where she's buried?" you asked, deciding to ignore the concerned look Sam was giving you.

"No, but it had her husbands name. Joseph Welch. If we find him I'm sure he can tell us where she's buried."

"Alright. It's getting late, though. We can meet at the motel we passed earlier and get a room for the night," you said, realizing how much your body was aching.

"Want me to head back and pick you guys up?"

"Nah, we're almost there. I can see it. Just meet us there."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you soon," you echoed before closing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke, "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam knew how drained you could feel after channeling a ghost like you did on the bridge, especially an extremely vengeful spirit like Constance. The more you thought about how exhausted you were, your limbs felt heavier.

"I'm alright, just tired," you told him, but you could see in his furrowed brow expression that he didn't believe you, "a few hours of sleep should fix me right up," you added, somewhat sarcastically.

You had just made it to the front office when you heard the all too familiar roar of the impala's engine. You turned to see Dean pull into the parking lot and park in the first parking spot he could find. He hopped out with a gloating smile, happy that he had uncovered more than the two of you. You wanted to remind him who got the name in the first place.

"Lets just get a room," you said before Dean could start gloating aloud.

The three of you walked into the office of the motel. An older looking gentleman was stood behind the counter with a polite smile. Dean pulled his fake credit card out of his wallet and dropped it down on the counter.

"One room, please," he told the clerk, his proud smile still spread wide across his face.

The man picked up the fake credit card, looking down at it before glancing up at Dean, "you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Which room was it?" you asked sweetly, hoping the man didn't get too suspicious.

"Number one. I only remember because he was so damn adamant about having it," he told you as he ran Dean's credit card and handed it back along with your room key.

"Thank you," you said before practically dragging the brothers out of the office, "let's get settled into our room, then we can check out John's room in a little bit. That guy might be keeping an eye out."

Sam and Dean agreed. The three of you grabbed your bags from the impala before bringing them to your room. You waited for the sun to fully set before the three of you started getting impatient. You were the first one out the door, checking to make sure that the coast was clear before the brothers followed. You walked down to the door of room one, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, your backs to the door as Sam knelt down to pick the lock. It only took him about thirty seconds before you heard the lock click from behind you. You turned as Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, yanking him back into the room. You stepped in quickly after. Sam shut the door behind you as your eyes scanned the room.

"Woah," you mumbled as you both looked around the room.

There were newspaper clippings, printed articles, and photos hung on almost every inch of the walls of the motel room. There are books and papers scattered across every surface. Dean flicked a lamp on, leaning down to sniff a discarded burger underneath the light. He recoiled in disgust.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean observed.

"I think you're right," you replied as you walked to the far wall, making sure to step over the salt line that blocked the door.

Sam leaned down and poked at the salt on the floor, "salt, cats eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he said as he stood up straight, before walking over to stand by Dean, "what have you got here?" Sam asked his brother, who was looking at a line of papers hung up on the wall.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replied, looking over the obituaries to make sure there weren't any he'd missed, "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Sam crossed the room to stand next to you as Dean spoke, "there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

You and Sam noticed the photos and papers hung on the wall in front of you, and it confirmed what you had already been suspicious of. Sam reached out and turned on the lamp in front of you.

"Dad figured it out," Sam said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he turned.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch," Sam said, pointing at the article hung on the wall.

"She's a woman in white," you said when Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You sly dogs," Dean said as he looked back at the articles of the missing men.

"The caption of the photo says Joseph Welch was thirty. The article dates to 1981, so he must be..." you paused, doing the math in your head, "sixty-four!" you said, hopeful.

"If he's still alive," Sam spoke what was on all your minds.

"We can worry about it tomorrow. I need at least a couple hours so I don't fall over," you said, a yawn enunciating your words.

"Didn't get enough beauty sleep in the car? You had the whole backseat to yourself," Dean teased as he walked to the door.

"That backseat is not as comfy for sleeping as you think it is," you protested as you stepped over the salt line.

"Better than nothing," Dean was just trying to piss you off, but unfortunately it was working.

"Well, no shit, jackass. But my neck is killing me and I'd love to sleep in a real bed," you pushed past Dean and out the door, checking to make sure no one was outside before leaving.

You got into the room first, taking your opportunity to enter the bathroom and have a quick shower before Dean used up all the hot water. You had the water running and the door closed when you heard Sam and Dean enter the room. You could heard Dean's muffled voice from the other side of the door You heard only a garbled mess of words until you heard your name. You quietly crept up to the bathroom door, pressing your ear up against it. Their voices were quieter now, but you were sure you had heard Dean say your name. You decided it probably wasn't best to ease drop. You couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. You gave up, stepping away from the door and continuing with your shower.

Dean was already passed out in one of the two king sized beds by the time you were out of the bathroom. You chuckled at his loud snoring as you stuffed your dirty clothes into your duffel bag. Sam was sat at the small table near the window, looking down at his phone. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands as you contemplated what to say or do.

"The bathroom's free if you want to take a shower," you said finally.

Sam jumped slightly, looking a bit startled. He hadn't noticed you come out of the bathroom. Were you that sneaky or was he that distracted? You guessed it was a bit of both.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm good."

"Alright," you glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, "I don't think you'll want to share with him, so you can share with me," you felt your ears warming up but you did your best to ignore it.

"After having to sit in the front seat with him all day, I'd rather not have to deal with him hogging the covers all night. Thank you," Sam said gratefully, but he made no move to get into the bed, instead looking back down at his phone.

You nodded before walking over to the empty bed, laying on the right side. You left the side facing Dean's bed for Sam.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on the floor, your father's head in your lap. Your hands are slick with his blood as you hold the sides of his face.

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted awake, sitting up straight as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes met Sam's as he stood next to the bed, his hand on your shoulder.

"Nightmare?" you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears.

You nodded as you took in a shaky breath. Sam's hand moved to your back, rubbing in soft circles. It actually helped ground you, and you were able to catch your breath fairly quickly. Dean came out of the bathroom as Sam let his hand fall from your back.

"You okay?" he asked you and you nodded quickly.

"I'm just gonna get ready," you mumbled, feeling awkward having both of them looking at you worriedly.

You stood and walked over to your duffel bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. You could hear Sam and Dean's hushed voices as you got dressed. They went silent a few moments before you exited the bathroom. Sam was sat on the bed as he listened to a voicemail from who you assumed to be Jessica. You watched Dean pull on his jacket.

"Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," he replied.

"Aframian's buying," Dean joked.

Sam only shook his head, and Dean sighed, turning to you.

"You hungry? Wanna go get some greasy diner food?" he asked enthusiastically.

"For breakfast? I'm hoping for some pancakes or something," you said as you looked around for your own jacket, "we'll see you in a bit, Sam," you stopped yourself from calling him 'Sammy,' but you can see in his eyes that he caught your almost slip up.

"Mhm," he hummed in response as you and Dean headed out the door.

You walked with Dean across the parking lot toward the impala. You looked to the right when you felt someone looking at you. You saw the motel clerk talking with a couple cops. The clerk pointed at you and Dean when he saw you.

"Shit," you muttered as you turned to face away from the cops.

Dean mirrored your movements, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he pulled his phone out, "dude, five-o. Take off," you heard Dean say into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean closed his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket before the he spun around to face the cops, bumping your shoulder with his to make you turn around too.

"Problem, officers?" Dean said with a shit eating grin that you wanted to smack right off his face.

"Where's your partner?" the cop crossed his arms over his chest as he looked from Dean to you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The cop jerked his thumb toward your motel room, silently ordering his partner to search the room. He obeyed, walking to the door before opening it and going inside. You felt your palms begin to sweat as you watched him enter the room, worried that he would come back out with Sam in handcuffs. Your eyes darted back toward the cop standing in front of you. He stood still as a statue, staring you down. You did your best to stand your ground and try not seem a nervous as you were.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" the cop asked Dean.

Dean paused, as if debating his response, "My boobs," he finally replied with a toothy grin that showed he was satisfied with his answer.

The cop shoved Dean's shoulder roughly, forcing him to turn around. He pressed his hand in between Dean's shoulder blades, slamming him down against the hood of the car with a thud while his other hand went to his belt to grab his cuffs.

"Turn around with your hands against the hood of the car, please," the cop ordered you through gritted teeth.

You did what he said, not wanting to piss him off anymore than Dean had already done. He cuffed Dean before cuffing you, pressing your cheek against the hood of the impala. You must have looked incredibly annoyed, because Dean's slightly amused smile quickly disappeared.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the cop read you your rights as you continued to glare at Dean.

You always hated dealing with the cops. Everytime Dean got the two of you arrested, you hated them even more. Cops didn't believe in monsters and ghosts, so they were always a hinderance, rather than a help. You had a funny feeling that this sheriff was going to get on your nerves. They had thrown you and Dean in separate interview rooms. The sheriff had asked your name and age, which you gave fake answers to both. He had left you to go interrogate Dean.

He was gone for a few minutes before he entered the room again. He was holding a file box full of papers and folders. You assumed they were the things that had been hung up on the walls of John's motel room. He dropped it onto the table before dropping down a notebook in front of you. You immediately recognized it, but you did your best to make sure your face didn't reflect that.

"So you want to give me your real name?" he asked as he leaned against the table.

"I already told you. It's Sandra Nugent," you reiterated to the sheriff, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

"You could be in a lot of trouble here, you know that? Unless you cooperate with me. If you tell me what your boyfriend and his partners have been doing, maybe I can help you out," you wanted to laugh at how desperate he sounded.

"You don't have any evidence on us," you replied stubbornly.

"Ya'll got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You and your buddy in there are officially suspects."

"Right, because when the first one went missing in '82, before I was even born," you deadpanned.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Y/N is it?" you must have looked surprised, because he opened John's notebook that was sat on the table and began flipping through it slowly, "I thought that might be your name. I got Dean's name fairly quickly, but yours I wasn't so sure about. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," he flipped through until he was almost at the end, stopping and leaning back so you could see the page he had flipped to, "but I found this, too."

You looked down at the page. It was mostly blank other than Deans name scrawled in John's handwriting, along with 35-111 underneath it. The message was circled hastily.

"No one is going anywhere until one of you can tell me what the hell that means," he tapped the message on the paper with his index finger.

"I don't know what it means. It looks like it might be a locker combo or something," you said with a shrug.

The sheriff was getting red faced, and you were sure Dean had told him the same things. This wasn't your first rodeo. Before he could question you any more, there was a knock at the door. It opened a second later. A young cop stuck his head into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road," he told the sheriff.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked you.

"No," you replied.

"Good."

He promptly cuffed you to the table. You struggled against the cuffs slightly, the metal digging into the skin of your wrist. The sheriff left and shut the door behind him. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, you could see all the cops scrambling to leave. You looked around, trying to find a way out, when you noticed a paper clip sticking out of John's journal.

You reached out and grabbed it. You unbent it and used it to pick the lock on your handcuffs. You did your best to remember what Sam taught you, and soon you were free. You grabbed John's journal off the table and crept over to the door. You peered through the small window and waited until all the cops had cleared out before trying the door. It was surprisingly unlocked. You went to the interrogation room next door, opening it to reveal Dean handcuffed to the table.

"Well look at you, ya' little escape artist! How did you manage that?" Dean asked as you entered the room.

You held up the straightened paper clip for him to see before getting to work on unlocking his handcuffs. He laughed in amusement as you freed him.

"He made it pretty easy," you said with a shrug, handing him John's journal, "now come on, let's get outta here before they come back."

The two of you crept through the police station, careful not to let anyone see you. It seemed like they had all hands on deck though, because the place looked almost deserted. You managed to find your cell phones on the sheriff's desk. You were sure the receptionist would still be at the front desk, so you searched around for window or a back exit. You quickly found a window that let to the fire escape.

You unlocked it and pulled it open before climbing out onto the fire escape. You gestured for Dean to follow, and he did so without hesitation. Dean climbed down first before you climbed down after him. The two of you made sure the coast was clear of any cop cars before walking down the sidewalk, headed for the town exit. You weren't sure which way Sam had gone or where he was, but you needed to get the hell out of dodge before the cops found you again. The sidewalk ended at the exit of town, and Dean pulled his cellphone out to call Sam.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal," he said as he put it on speakerphone so you could hear Sam too.

"You're welcome," Sam's voice came through the shitty speaker of Deans phone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started, but Sam was quick to reply.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam explained.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to stop his brother from speaking.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," you told him.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said.

"What's it say?" Sam asked.

"The same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam said, immediately understanding what Dean meant, "Where to?"

"We aren't sure yet. We didn't have much time to look while we were running from the cops," you said, annoyance evident in your tone, but it was more directed at Dean.

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?"

You heard the screech of tires skidding on the road through the phone before a quiet thud.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone frantically.

"Take me home," you heard Constance's soft voice come through the phone, and your hand flew up to clutch your head as the image of a house appeared in your mind.

"Y/N? What is it? Are you alright?" Dean stopped walking to put his hand on your shoulder.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you examined the house. It felt like a memory, but you knew you had never seen the house before. You quickly realized it had to be a memory from Constance. It must be her old house where Sam said she was buried.

"The house," you said, "We have to go to the house. That's where she's taking him," you said as you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look at Dean.

"We don't know where the house is!" he cried out, more in fear than in anger.

"I do. Follow me," you didn't elaborate and instead you turned and started jogging, knowing the house wasn't too far from you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked as he easily caught up to jog next to you.

"I'm fine, but Sam isn't gonna be if we don't hurry up," you said before picking up the pace.

You and Dean were now running as fast as your legs could manage. You eventually cut through the tree line, coming out into a clearing. You could see the house in the distance, with the impala stopped out front. You could see Sam sitting in the front seat. As you got closer, you could see the ghostly figure above Sam. You quickly recognized the long wavy hair to belong to Constance.

"Cover your ears!" Dean shouted as you ran.

Your hands flew up to cover ears. You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if one of them said to do something, you did it without question. You heard the muffled sound of a gun shot as you saw the front windows of the impala shatter. Constance disappeared for a moment before reappearing, turning to glare at the two of you. You felt your spine shudder in fear at the anger that radiated off her. Dean continued to shoot until she disappeared for good. You had just made it to the impala when you saw Sam sit up. He reached out and turned the keys in the ignition, making the car rumble to life.

"I'm taking you home," he said breathlessly before he pressed on the gas.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him as the impala lurched forward and smashed through the front wall of the house with a loud crash.

You and Dean ran up the porch stairs and through the now giant hole in the side of the house. You stepped over the rubble and toward the impala that had stopped in the middle of what looked to be the remnants of a living room.

"Sam?" Dean called out as he ran to the passenger side of the car, "Sam! You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in through the window.

"I think..." you heard Sam say from inside the car as you walked over.

"Can you move?" Dean asked as he tried to get the passenger door open.

"Yeah. Help me?"

Dean yanked the passenger door open before leaning inside the car and reaching out for Sam. He pulled him out and up onto his feet and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

"There you go," Dean said.

The three of you turned and saw Constance on the other side of the room, holding a large framed photo. She finally noticed you, glaring daggers as she threw the picture to the floor. It clattered loudly as the three of you stared dumbly. Suddenly, her hand lifted and she made a gesture that caused a dresser to slide across the room and pin you against the side of the impala. The wind got knocked out of you as you tried to push the dresser away, but there was an unseen force holding it in place. Sam and Dean were too stubborn to stop trying. Constance took a step forward, a look of malice in her eyes. You were anticipating her next move, when suddenly the lights flickered and buzzed. You watched Constance turn and walk to the base of the stairs that now had water pouring down them like a waterfall.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," you heard a boy and girl say in unison.

Suddenly, the spirits of Constance's children appeared behind her. They wrapped their arms around her in one final hug as the lights surged. You shielded your eyes as Constance screamed. You watched from under your forearm as the three of their spirits sunk slowly into the floor, disappearing and leaving only a puddle of water behind. Sam and Dean pushed the dresser over, and it clattered loudly to the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust that made you cough. You walked over to examine the puddle, Sam and Dean close behind you. You all stared down at the floor in silence, trying to collect your thoughts. You were trying to brush off the residual rage that Constance had left behind.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam confirmed.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean clapped Sam on the chest where Constance had dug her fingers into his chest, presumably to rip out his heart; Sam laughed through the pain it caused him.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," you added.

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean said he walked over to the impala, leaning down to inspect the damage, "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" he turned to point at Sam menacingly, "I'll kill you," Sam laughed as you gave Dean a 'what the fuck?' look.

"You literally shot the windows out! I doubt Sam did more damage than you did to your own car," you said as you walked over to stand next to Dean, noticing the busted out headlight.

Fortunately, the impala still ran. The front windows were shattered, and the right headlight needed replacing, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. She'd been through worse, is what Dean had said.

~~~~~~~~~

You were leaned over the backrest of Sam's seat, looking at the map he had sitting open in his lap. He was trying to find the location of the coordinates that John had left. It didn't take him long to circle a spot on the map.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by tonight!" Dean said excitedly.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam trailed off, and you sat back in your seat, knowing where this was going.

"You're not going," Dean said simply.

"The interview's tomorrow morning. I gotta be there."

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

You had the sudden realization that your bags were still in your motel room. It wasn't difficult to convince Dean to drive back to the motel. You and Sam managed to sneak in and grab your stuff without being spotted. Dean sped to the highway to make sure the cops didn't catch you again.

None of you spoke for the rest of the drive. It was only a few hours, and the sun had set by the time you had arrived at Sam's apartment complex. Dean stopped out front and Sam opened the door and got out, shutting it behind him. He turned to lean in through the window as you climbed over the backrest to sit in the front seat. Once you were sat, you looked over at Sam, noticing how close he was.

"Call me if you find him?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" his eyes went from Dean to you, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, all right," Dean replied, still frowning slightly.

Sam patted the door twice, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up straight. He turned around and started to walk away. Dean set his arm on the backrest behind you, leaning forward slightly to look out the passenger window.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"You know, we all made a hell of a team back there," he said with a smirk, glancing at you.

Sam nodded with a small smile before Dean turned back to look at the road as he pressed on the gas. You didn't dare turn to look, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of Sam in the crooked side mirror. You could see his tall figure looming in the shadows. There was a sense of foreboding that you couldn't shake as you drove away. You were only on the road for a few minutes. Sam's apartment building had just barely faded in the distance. You turned and saw Dean's furrowed brows as he glanced between his watch and the road.

"What?" you questioned him.

"I think my watch stopped working."

A wave of dread washed over you as your heart dropped into your stomach. It felt like every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps. You swallowed hard around the lump rising in your throat.

"Dean, turn around and go back. Now," you said firmly.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He immediately pulled a u-turn and headed back toward Sam's apartment. You could feel the evil radiating off the building even before you saw it come into view. Dean pressed down on the gas harder, going well above the speed limit. He pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the door. You both hopped out of the impala but he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said quickly before turning and running into the building.

You looked up to see flames and smoke emitting from an upstairs window. Your stomach churned as you pulled out your phone to call 911. You put the phone to your ear, and spoke to the operator about the fire, who told you they were sending a fire truck. You could hear the fire alarm going off before Sam and Dean even made it outside. Just as your chest was starting to ache with worry, you saw them emerge, Dean practically dragging Sam along. Sam fell into your waiting arms, and you used all your strength to keep him somewhat standing. He had wrapped his arms around you and had shoved his face into the crook of your neck. Dean stood a few feet away, coughing loudly. He put up his hand and made it into a faux phone, shaking it next to his ear with furrowed brows, silently asking if you had called the police. You nodded as you hugged Sam tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair softly with the other.

The fire fighters didn't take long to get there. They managed to tame the flames fairly quickly, leaving most of the apartment complex intact. Sam had detached from you before they had arrived, wiping his eyes and sitting on the trunk of the impala. He didn't speak a word to you. Only when Sam was talking with the cops was when you got part of the story from Dean.

"She was... on the ceiling," he told you slowly.

"Like... Like how your mom died?" you asked gently.

Dean nodded and you felt your chest tighten as your heart rate quickened. You shook your head as you looked over to the building. Smoke was still billowing out into the night sky, blocking the few stars you could see from view. You and Dean were stood side by side at the back of the crowd of onlookers that had grown at the edge of the police tape. The red lights of the fire truck were still flashing, and they were starting to give you a headache. You turned away from the building to head back to the impala. Dean had pulled it off to the side of the road a few yards away. Sam was stood in front of the open trunk. You saw him loading a shotgun as you approached.

You didn't want to pity him, knowing it would only make him feel worse. When you saw the tear stains down his cheeks, you couldn't stop the sympathetic smile you gave him. He smiled weakly at you. Dean walked up next, giving Sam a look you couldn't place. You knew all the Winchester looks, but this one was foreign to you. Sam nodded at him before letting out shuddering breath, obviously knowing what his brother's look meant. You appreciated them getting along, but you didn't like to be excluded. Under different circumstances, you would have pestered them until they told you what telepathic messages they were sending each other. Instead, you stayed quiet, watching as Sam threw the now loaded shotgun into the trunk.

"We got work to do," he said before slamming the trunk shut.

#userbored-writer101 #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural season 1 #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #john winchester #bobby singer #supernatural rewrite #supernatural x reader rewrite #pilot #female reader #gender neutral pronouns

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blazehedgehog · 4 months

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As someone who I know is intricately familiar with Genesis music and the FM synth it uses; why is it that many people (including myself) enjoy the Genesis era Sonic music but when Jin Senoue tries to emulate that sound using Genesis synth samples (Sonic Superstars being the most recent example) it just doesn't sound very good? I know it's literally become a running joke in the community that Senoue uses the Genesis synth too much but it's not like Sonic 1 or 2 had bad soundtracks even though they used the same instrumentation, and Senoue is obviously a very talented composer, so I don't really understand why his attempts to emulate the Genesis soundtracks always turn out so mid.

The general theory I subscribe to is that with the soundtracks to Sonic 1, 2, and presumably even Sonic 3, those games were composed by people who were just writing "real" music. They would pick out real world instruments and write for that sound.

If you've never heard it before, for the 20th Anniversary, Sega put out a compilation soundtrack for Sonic 1 and 2, which included the original demo tracks Masato Nakamura wrote for those games.

youtube

Now these are basically just MIDI files, because they didn't need to be anything more than that. But you can tell he was thinking in terms of horn sections, bass guitar, and so on.

Nakamura would submit these MIDI songs on cassette to Sega, and Sega's sound engineers would transcribe those instruments into something that sounded appropriate for the Genesis hardware.

youtube

Now, Jun Senoue did the same thing, to a degree. Jun's first major Sonic soundtrack was Sonic 3D Blast on the Sega Genesis, and Jon Burton (of Traveler's Tales) revealed Jun's own demo cassette. If you listen to Jun's tracks, they're all done on the Honky Tonk/Rhodes piano. There's no attempt to utilize real world instruments or have any kind of sound diversity. [1] [2] [3] [4]

Instead of writing music for a band, he wrote music for an individual playing a keyboard.

Worse still, it has eventually been revealed as of Sonic Origins that Jun Senoue had very little awareness of how to make Genesis sounding music. Again, he only submitted his songs on cassette. He was not responsible for the FM Synthesis conversion, just the raw notes, which were all written on, and for, a keyboard.

(throwing the rest of this ask under a "read more" tag because it embeds a lot more videos and even some images)

So when it came time for Sonic 4, and they had Jun Senoue do the retro style soundtracks for those games, he was probably pretty out of his depth. He was writing for style of music he did not really have a nuanced understanding of.

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So we get this crunchy, grating, disassociated "this is what the Genesis sounded like, right?" sort of sound. The musical equivalent of one of those early 2000's "How to Draw Manga" books: somebody who thinks they know what they're doing, has actual talent in other adjacent areas, but doesn't actually get this particular niche.

This is one of the reasons why I'm actually a little warmer towards Classic Sonic's music in Sonic Forces -- it's not Jun Senoue. Somebody on that project understood enough and had Naofumi Hataya handle a lot of Classic Sonic's music. He has actual experience with chiptunes and wrote something that feels like it belongs in a Sega System 32 arcade game or something.

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Not every single one of Classic Sonic's songs are stone cold bangers in Forces, but at least they sound more authentically retro than Jun's attempts, because they were written by someone who knew what they were doing.

Beyond that, I don't know why Jun doesn't just, like... do better, in a sense. I suppose I don't know his composing environment and how easy or hard it is to slot in what he'd need to sound more "authentic." I just know from my own perspective how easy it is to grab a VST or a soundfont for common Genesis/Yamaha instruments.

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But even then, more authentic instruments aren't going to solve the problem that this style of music doesn't seem to be his strong suit, even if somebody at Sega keeps pushing him to do it. Thankfully, I think somebody finally realized it, given how Sonic Superstars seemed to be full of his Sonic 4 style fake-retro music and most of it got replaced at the last second.

#questions #biggnife #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #jun senoue #music #masato nakamura #naofumi hataya #tomoya ohtani #lots of video embeds

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papercupids · 2 years

Text

the road not taken - lee chan.

pairing -> dino x reader

au -> best friends to lovers

genre -> angst, romance, fluff, pining.

summary -> 2 years ago, you let the love of your life and your lifelong bestfriend leave without ever confessing your love for him and now that he's back again, you have a second chance. but the only problem? he's leaving in two weeks

note -> chan's character, in my imagination has finished uni and is now leaning towards training to dance full time and then later, open his own studio.

The reader is in their last year of uni as well.

warnings -> chan has nightmares, some curses here and there but that's about it.

word count -> 4.3k

mildly inspired by the kdrama, 'soundtrack #1'. i'd also recommend listening to the ost to have some music while reading the fic.

+ dorothea & 'tis the damn season by taylor swift

;

“chan,” you shake him gently. The said person was grunting and turning around violently in his sleep, which at first due to the veil of the door between you, you regarded as some late night video game match or something but it got way longer and way unnatural that there was no way he was consciously doing it. Knocking at his door, the door was open and here he was, clearly having a nightmare.

He doesn’t budge, his eyebrows are still furrowed and sweat beads cover his forehead.

“chan,” you repeat again, “wake up,”

And he wakes with a jolt, knocking you backwards and scaring you and himself both.

As his eyes adjust to the light and his breaths go back to normal, you look at him cautiously, “chan, are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

He nods slowly, still processing the fact that he was awake.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, you know where to find me if you want,”

And you’re leaving when he calls out to you, “thanks for checking up on me,”

“Ofcourse,”

chan had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, from teaching you how to tie your laces to sharing almost the same music taste, it had always been him. And it was just natural that you agreed to help him out with the living situation since you were already renting out an apartment and here he was, in the bedroom adjacent to yours.

When he came back from the US, he came unannounced, for a “surprise” visit to his parents but only to find out that they were going away to some cruise and no last minute reservation could be made for their son.

Not wanting to be alone at home with nothing to do, he asked you if he could tag along with you to the apartment you had rented near your university.

besides it was just for about 3-4 weeks, it wasn't going to be a problem, was it?

---

“Hey, good morning,” you yawn, it was a lie, you had a headache and a quiz you were definitely not prepared for. It wasn’t a good morning.

But the smell of food and some coffee and you could see it somehow.

“What you got there?”

“My famous blueberry pancakes and of course, coffee,”

It was either monday, wednesday or friday, which was chan's turn in the kitchen. And the blueberries were everything you ever needed, you’d been practically begging chan to make them since the past month.

But to your surprise, when you sit down and open your phone, it's a thursday.

“And he literally took all the credit for it! Like no, I didn't waste 2 weeks on this “group project” for you to claim it as yours.”

You let out a laugh at your best friend's plight, “did you tell the professor?”

“Obviously, and he knew because there was no way that nuthead could have made it based on his record,”

“Good for you,”

And silence envelops the breakfast table again, the soft sound of chewing and drinking from your mug, keeping it back on the table are the only sounds heard.

“chan,” he looks up with and raises his brows and lately your heart’s been doing this weird thing where it skips a beat sometimes when he looks at you, it’s not everytime just sometimes and it leaves you feeling all red-pink inside.

But you shake your head.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?”

He turns away his face from you, “it’s okay, i’m fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ofcourse,”

“If you say so,”

---

After a long day with all the classes you had and your social battery nearly drained for almost the entire week when it was just Thursday, you want nothing more than to watch some old sitcom with chan. You didn’t care what you had for dinner, you just knew you had to finish it up with some ice cream.

And sitting here, as his eyes are fixated on the screen you can see his features lit up by different lights depending on the scene because its a dark room. And you know you want this forever, he smiles a little when someone cracks a joke and looks at you to offer you a bit of his ice cream, thankfully you look away fast enough so he can’t suspect you.

You shake your head but this is your cue to offer him yours and he digs in greedily.

“Why don’t you just buy the cookie dough flavour?”

‘It’s way more fun to eat it from yours, i love that annoyed face of yours even more than the actual ice cream,”

To which you just roll your eyes and grab the ice cream back from him.

“y/n, do you remember-”

“No.”

“Let me finish?”

“Every memory you have of me is traumatising for me, so no.”

“I’m gonna go ahead anyway,” he pauses the show which was already forgotten, “so remember when you had a crush on seungcheol and you were about to confess to him but instead-”

“Yes, i poured strawberry milkshake all over him, yes, i remember,”

But he’s too busy laughing to notice your playful disgust at him bringing it up, and it’s this way every time it gets brought up - whether it's by him, by seungcheol or very rarely, you.

Thankfully, Seungcheol didn’t mind the milkshake and understood the anxieties of a twelve year old confessing to their crush, and he was still friends with you.

Later when you’re on your bed, you finally confess it to yourself, you might be deeply or not too deeply, in love with your best friend.

It felt like some path that was right there to take but you’d take the other one and then return right here because neither did you have the guts to choose the path and nor the heart to just let it go.

and you couldn’t afford him getting to know about it because it’s just something that wouldn’t work, it’s impossible. it’s the worst time you could have chosen to fall in love with him, but somehow, you still wanted to take the road not taken, it just seemed too hard to stay away now.

---

you try to bury your feelings as you close your eyes, hoping the slumber will ease your thoughts and provide some rationality in the morning.

“I can’t sleep alone.”

He stands beside your bed in a dishevelled state, his eyes are swollen and hair completely out of place. It takes you a few seconds to process that this isn’t a dream, chanis standing in front of you and he’s talking to you.

“Oh, chan,” you sit up straight, “what’s up? What happened?”

He sits down on your bed uninvited, his back to you. “It’s the nightmare again.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No, i’d rather not. But can I just sleep beside you here?”

“Ofcourse,” it wasn’t weird for you at all, you’d first slept in the same bed when you were seven and after that there was no looking back, from not being able to sleep even when the lights were out and blowing raspberries at each other in an attempt to annoy the other, here you were, trying to save your best friend from his nightmares, this was completely okay, right?

And he settles beside you comfortably, bringing in the faded smell of his perfume and his body heat.

It was not awkward, it was almost like something that was supposed to happen had happened; some puzzle piece which you’d forgotten was even a piece had made a masterpiece.

You wished the moment never ended.

“You make everything so much better, y/n, how did i get so lucky that i have a friend like you?”

Yes, friend. Friend was all it was, and all it was going to be. Get out of your head.

---

chan was petrified, he never thought he’d make it this far. The fear of nightmares had retired to a back corner of his mind, he was more focused on the fuzzy feeling in his stomach as he settled beside you, laying on his back. He didn’t look at you but he knew you’d be looking at the ceiling, thinking about something even when you’d just been woken up.

It was the mattress here maybe but he was way more cosy here than the guest room and the temperature was way more warmer and the sheets were way more silky and the smell of your shampoo was perfect and-

And you had turned to his side.

He was wrong this time, you weren’t thinking, your eyes were too heavy from the day to do that anyway.

And your arm was resting on his chest.

chan came here to sleep, having an uncomfortable sleep because it was someone’s else’s room after all but as his mind slowly switched off, he was convinced this would be the best sleep he’d get in years.

---

When you wake up it’s raining, and raining hard. That’s the first thing you hear. But as your other senses come alive, you feel that your arms are wrapped around something that is way too warm and feeling way too much like actual skin to be a pillow and you’re trapped in something of that sort as well.

And as you open your eyes, it’s chan.

chan, deep in sleep, with his arms around your waist and yours around his torso, it fits.

And his hair falls on his face, his features are so pretty and peaceful as he sleeps and the way his chest expands and drops. And in this moment you wished you had some kind of a phone with you, a camera to capture this feeling, this moment forever, freeze it.

You can trace the way the threads of his vest intersect, and you want to touch the fabric, feel it. But you’re scared that if you move, the dream will end, you’ll wake up.

---

“I like you,”

You swallow hard as the character on the screen confesses to her crush, looking to dino sheepishly to see what his reaction would be.

He has a poker face on, way too engrossed in the scene for a romantic movie.

It’s the weekend, and all you have is a week left to do something about the feelings you had about your best friend because you had no idea when you’d see him again after that. He’d sleep in your bed every night and you got addicted to the quality of the sleep you got with him, the feeling was engraved in your guts now, the comfort mixed with the mild anxiety of him being just beside.

You had even asked him what perfume he wore under the pretext of liking it so much that you’d buy it yourself but you know you’re gonna sprinkle it around on your pillow and pretend it’s him after he’s gone.

It’s almost unreal that he was here, and that he was going away again.

Two years ago, it was the same situation.

“Do you really have to go? Don’t we have good dance studios here?” you were leaning on his suitcase at the airport, his parents went away on the excuse of “getting some water” but you knew what it really was, they wanted you to convince him to stay, confess your feelings to him.

“y/n,”

“No but, it’s like you’re choosing this, you’re choosing to go away and i just don’t like it,”

You wished you said that, instead you went with :

“I mean, if you’re doing what you love then, it’s what you should go for,”

And as he disappears behind glass doors and the crowd, you wished you said it. You lean on his mother’s shoulder, not wanting to cry but your eyes are glossy and you know it.

---

You could go through it again, but you weren’t sure that it wouldn’t break you apart. chan was here for the year. He came during Christmas, to his parents’ and to your hometown.

Thankfully, you were there as well, for the holidays, and he didn't even tell you he was coming.

“Surprise,” he whispered on the phone when he asked you to open your front door. And there he was like all those times in the past that were imprinted in your memories in golden ink.

Like the night of prom, when you both didn’t have (or in your case, rejected a lot of promposals) and decided to go together (as friends, obviously) he was right there, waiting for you to go in. you had his jacket ‘round your shoulders, the smell surrounding your nostrils as he waits for you to go in, an endearing smile on his face and it felt like he wanted to say something and he did, call out to when you turned towards the door.

“You know, you looked really pretty,”

This was the third time you were hearing this in the span of four hours.

“Thank you,” you bow fauxly.

Or the countless times you’d go out to dinner with him and see you going in just like that.

Such a random place like a doorstep was special with chan.

---

“Do you think he’s cute?” Karina was sitting on the floor, her back to your sofa as she scrolled on her phone, typed something then scrolled again. chan's eyes were glued to her screen as he attempted to find out the cute guy you had been talking about all day, and karina was currently trying to get into his instagram.

But actually, you had actually broken down to karina about your feelings for chan, and she had made it a mission to make chanstay and it was apparently a single step plan, to get him jealous. It was the only step and according to her it could make him get around in the duration he was staying here and he wouldn’t go away.

“He’s not cute, what the fuck, y/n, you can do better than him obviously,”

The picture he was being shown right now, the instagram account belonged to a certain liu yangyang. He can’t be called an “ex” but you were in the talking phase with him and only drifted apart because he could sense that you were not really into him and it was on a good note thankfully.

“He’s cute, i don’t care what you say,” you sat down on the sofa, mild sweat sticking to your forehead as if you just baked brownies. Before you could eat though, you were too busy checking the instagram account too as well as the other two people with you.

“He’s cute,” Karina seconds your statement.

“I just feel like you can do better,” he picks up his phone and lies down on the opposite side of the sofa, legs to your lap.

“This reaction was totally in contrast to what his reaction was to me finding yangyang's instagram, he was so curious,” she was standing near your window while you lay on your bed, scrolling through chan's instagram, chan had gone out for some air.

“He’s jealous,”

“Karina, what if this doesn’t work?”

“It will, babe, it will,” and she looks at her watch as she grabs her purse and dashes for the door.

“We can always just kidnap him, you know?” she winks as you look out your door and the elevator closes.

---

The next morning, Chan was up early, sitting at the dining table with a coffee in his hand and another at the table, seemingly for you.

“You’re up early?”

“Oh well, i just thought i could drop you off today,”

“Um, okay,”

And you’re in the car with him, he finds the morning beautiful for some reason and you don't know but its only because he almost accidentally brushed his hands against yours while fumbling with the ac.

You have a hunch that this sudden urge to drop you off has something to do with the introduction of yangyang into the story.

But it’s like the universe has it out for you as early as eight in the morning because you spot yangyang parking his car right where chan is supposed to drop you off.

And as you dreadingly get out of the car, he smiles politely and in an intent to walk with you to your class, approaches you. You wave at chan so he doesn’t look at yangyang but he’s already getting out of the car.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, you decide to introduce yangyang to chan.

And the former holds out his hand for Chan to shake.

You can feel chan stare until you disappear from the view and internally screaming at whatever fate it was, he’s probably gonna think that even yangyang has feelings for you and just-

Karina’s idea sucked.

---

“chan,” you call out to him. He's sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and he looks up at you as you approach him with two bowls of pasta in your hands.

“make way,”

and he clears out the pillow beside him and smiles slightly as you place his bowl on top of the cushion he's placed on his lap.

As you sit down, hungry and ready to just dive in, you look at chan, who is waiting for you to eat.

and you grin at him, “i love you,”

the said person is taken aback by your sudden love and raises a brow but before he can ask anything you're correcting yourself, oh, and also mentally slapping yourself as hard as you can, "as a friend obviously, chan, why'd you have to get all flustered?"

"oh, right, right, as a friend. in that case, i love you too,"

unbeknownst, to the other, both of you felt heat in your cheeks and if you didn't have your dinner right in front of you and it wouldn't complicate things to just run from here screaming, you'd have already been thin air.

“So, um, how did it go with yangyang today?”

“Oh, well, chan,” how do you tell him you’re not even the least interested in that guy?

“Good, it was good,”

“He’s looks way better in real life, i’ll give him that,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

“The pasta’s great by the way, it’s way better than the last time we had it.”

“It’s all about practice,”

---

That night as you get ready for bed, and wait for chan to lie down with you as usual. You feel a stabbing pain in your chest that tomorrow was the last day you’d have with him for a long time. He’s going back as much as you don’t want him to.

And you trace the pillow beside you, wondering when it’d be that he comes again and stays with you this way.

It’s exhausting, the unrequited love in your heart, but for some reason the pain is lesser than the fear of getting rejected and losing him forever, so you just keep on hoping that once he leaves, you’ll try your best to get over him.

But for now, you love him, you think as he slips in the covers beside you.

You shoot him a smile as you both lie straight on the bed, “what do you think you’ll do when i leave?”

“Hmm, i’ll have no one to sleep with to stop my nightmares, so i guess i’ll need to call karina,”

chan turns to you and pokes his tongue out.

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Hmm, well then, seriously, i need to concentrate on uni so that’s what i’ll do,”

“Good, i’m proud of you,” and he faces you again, this time patting your head.

You draw the courage too, to face him and as you do, his eyes are just magnetic, you can’t stop looking at them and he doesn’t look away either, you just stay there, his hand in your hair and you’re staring at him.

And you shake your head suddenly, turning away again.

“What will you do there?” you ask quickly, to avoid awkwardness.

“I think i need to train more, but after that i’m thinking of coming back here and opening up a dance studio,”

That serves as a relief to you. at least he's coming back.

---

a loud voice wakes you up from your sleep and you shoot up straight to find chan in the same position you did a few weeks ago, struggling and grunting with sweat covering his head and his expressions uneasy.

“chan, you’re safe,” you gently shake him. He eases but doesn’t wake up.

You don’t know what else to do, so you slip your hand into his, “chan,” you whisper slightly.

And he blinks, and in a second he’s up. Intertwining his fingers with yours.

He turns to you, relief painting his face. “Oh, y/n,” he holds your hand tightly as he attempts to completely regain his consciousness.

But he’s dishevelled and you can’t do anything but slowly envelope him in a hug. “You’re safe, chan, i’m right here,”

he’s never been as safe as he was there, he wants to cry but realises he’s already made you worry as it is, he slowly hugs back.

And you don’t know when you fall asleep, both of your arms wrapped around the other, comfortable as ever.

It’s only when your second alarm rings and the sunlight hits you right in the eyes through the undrawn curtains do you realise that your face is just inches apart from chan's, and he’s peacefully sleeping unaware of the fact that you’re yet again watching him sleep, this time a small tear passes through your eyes and thankfully, doesn’t touch chan, because with your closeness, it could have.

You slowly get up, thankful for the fact that once chan sleeps, he sleeps like a rock.

And the room is lined with his clothes and stuff overflowing out of the suitcase because of his habit of putting off everything until the last minute.

when you turned on the coffee machine, a pair of slow footsteps came behind you.

"one for me too,"

"oh, you're up early,"

"your alarm woke me up, and i don't find the bed comfortable without you so,"

his back is to the kitchen and he looks at you work, you're scared he'll say something, something that's gonna make you dread today more.

"y/n,"

"yeah?"

"do you want to know about the nightmares?"

you nod.

and you rest your hands that clasp the coffee mug on the balcony railing. the sun is slowly rising, and the sky is a beautiful mix of pink, orange and purple, steadily becoming more orange.

"its okay, chan, you can tell me some other time,"

"I really thought I was ready to tell you, and I would but I just, i don't know."

"it's okay, really," you place a hand on his which is resting on the railing.

and the sunset's pretty beautiful but the chan's eyes are magnetic, you can't look away from them.

your hand is still on his, the coffee long forgotten on the table you've placed on the edge of the balcony.

"chan,"

"yes?"

the eye contact still doesn't break, and you're afraid you might cry.

"chan, don't leave,"

in a slow but swift motion, he turns to you, and wipes the tear on your cheek with the thumb of the hand that isn't that one you're grazing your fingers on.

"i'm right here, right now,"

and you bury your face in his chest. it was just painful to go through the same kind of hurt again, to promise each other you won't drift apart but still become ghosts that aren't mentioned unless for memories. it was painful to not let your love be known to the other especially when you had the grim realisation that anything could happen anytime and the feelings would just remain like ashes of a fire that once burnt.

his arms wrap around you as you start to have a nasty breakdown which feels long overdue, and he feels like home. home you didn't want to let go of. and you hug him just like that, clasping his shirt as if you would just not let him go.

and as you pull away, wiping the snot with your t shirt (it was going to be washed anyway) chan does something you could have never imagined he would have.

he cups your face, just near the jawline, and leans down, eyes closed.

and you kiss him back.

the thing you've been wanting to do since you were like, what, 14? and you saw your friends do it, feel good about it and none of the people you ever kissed felt right. but this?

This felt like finding the one last piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had been lost for years.

but due to the tears earlier, you lose your breath quickly and the moment you wished you could have frozen ends in about a minute.

"uh," you retort.

"it's okay if you don't feel the same way-"

"how is it going to work, chan? you're leaving,"

"i-"

"and you'll leave even if I tell you today that I've loved you for the past 7 years. heck, maybe even more, you're going to leave, chan. and it's okay i'm not asking you to stay but please don't make this hard for the both of us," the path that was in front of you had seemed foggy in front of you for the past few minutes was suddenly clearing out, it didn’t seem like it would work. Maybe, the road not taken should stay that way.

as you turn to leave, he holds out your arm.

"the nightmares….. you were falling off a cliff and i was holding your hand but you were slipping, which is why when i slept beside you i could wake up and find you there and that would comfort me,"

it's his turn now, to cry.

"oh, chan,"

"i don't want to lose you, not again, and i thought leaving would make it better, would make it hurt less, but it doesn't. nothing makes it better like you,"

and you hug him back again, letting your head rest on his shoulder as he cries.

this was plain hurt but for some reason, comforting. your feelings were out in the open, nevermind the fact that you can't do anything about it.

and he's stopped crying after a bit but still holds on.

"it's nice to just stay like this,"

"it is,"

"your flight, chan, your flight leaves today," you begin to pull away.

but he puts a gentle finger to your lips.

"do you want me to stay?" he asks in a whisper, tracing your lip with his finger, the feeling ticklish on your lips.

you nod.

"but-"

"no buts, i'm not losing what we can have over something I don't want to do anymore. besides, someone once told me, there are really good dance studios here,"

"you can go, i'd still be wanting to be with you, long distance works, you know,"

"can we not think of that right now? i just want to look at that face and adore the love of my life,"

he places your head against yours.

"i love you, i'll never leave again, i promise,"

and you look at your intertwined hands, he squeezes your hands. "i promise."

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