#ive thrown more money at this problem than i care to admit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song ii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, things are heating up! the phrase ‘dilf dick’ gets thrown around way too much, RJ and taehyung cameo, hoseok, yoongi and namjoon are mentioned, as well as jungkook if you squint words; 12,169

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After Seokjin dropped you off at the station, he and Arin waving you goodbye, it would be two weeks later when you saw him again. Not that you were holding out on it or anything… No way… That would be ludicrous.

The last week of school was always hectic, activities and games top priority now that teaching had come to a standstill. The children were hyper, the teacher’s worn out, but without fail you always looked forward to the summer fate. Head of the committee every year, you and a handful of your fellow teachers organised each game, each stall and each prize. As well as wanting the children to have fun, it was also an opportunity to celebrate their achievements throughout the year with their families. There were an arrange of awards for most subjects, third through to first place for each grade, and this year you’d convinced the principal, Mr. Jung, to include a new creative writing award. It wasn’t technically a subject – you already had the spelling bee for English class, but he’d thought it was a great idea to celebrate the students’ talents in a brand new way.

Of course, there was one child you had in mind when you’d gone to him with the idea – Arin. It was only fair in your eyes, she’d been with you not even three months and hadn’t had a chance like the other kids. The other awards were spoken for but you wanted her to at least get something, just so first grade could end on a good note for her and help her look forward to September.

You were at the entrance of the fate, in casual conversation with Mrs. Jeon as well as greeting the students’ families, when you caught a glimpse of Seokjin. He was hand in hand with Arin who skipped happily beside him. He was wearing a sea green thin sweater, that blew in the light breeze, and black jeans. He was even in sneakers. Way more unbelievable than the slippers. He looked effortlessly good, and you thought you preferred him like this, casually dressed. The suits were great yes, but he looked far more attainable like this. Not that you wanted to attain him.

Damn it.

You tried your best to ignore the strange heat that had seemed to settle in your chest at the sight of him, the faintest flurry of what could only be described as butterflies aggravating your stomach. What the hell? What was wrong with you?

“Hello, Miss.” Arin grinned, giving you a small wave, and you shook yourself out of it.

“Hi, Arin,” you waved back, of course catching Seokjin’s eyes in the process.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted, the hint of a smirk across his mouth. Teasing, again. Two could play at that game.

“Mr. Kim,” you replied, unable to keep a straight face – especially when you heard him laugh as he passed by you.

You watched him walk off, secretly pleased now that you knew he was here. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you’d been hoping he’d be free to attend the fate. To see Arin receive her reward, of course – nothing else. But, okay, maybe you had spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which dress to wear last night. Not that you wanted to impress him, more like… stand out.

“Who is he?” Mrs. Jeon whispered animatedly – hopefully out of earshot and once again knocking some sense back into you.

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t aware of Seokjin’s jaw-dropping good looks – or more so, that they didn’t affect you whatsoever. “A student’s father.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “He is just pure… sex on legs.”

“Eunbi!” You exclaimed, taken by such surprise you used her first name. She burst out laughing, something you couldn’t ignore and ended up in a fit of giggles yourself.

“Behave.” You warned, trying to compose yourself. “You’re a married woman.” You’d attended her wedding last summer, bringing along Soojung as your plus one.

“Looking is still allowed,” she replied, making you both explode into laughter once again.

You were giddy. Really, what was up with you?

The afternoon was a success, the children and their families enjoying immensely, as well as the teachers. It was your job to announce the creative writing reward and it was so heart-warming to see how happy it made Arin to come first place. She held her little trophy and movie theatre vouchers proudly for the camera, Seokjin looking just as over the moon as her. Mr. Jung convinced him to join for a few snaps and you looked on with a polite smile. Other than earlier and a thank you as you passed the prize to Arin, those had been your only interactions with Seokjin for the day and now the fate was drawing to a close. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed, because that would be preposterous, but if those were going to be your only exchanges then it made the times he’d fleeted into your mind these past couple of weeks highly embarrassing…

It wasn’t as if you wanted to think about him, he just kept popping up. First you blamed Soojung, who wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Dilf for a few days after the exchange at his house (mansion), but soon the topic bored her, no new developments to keep her hooked. You on the other hand found yourself imagining instances where you’d bump into one another again. You know, happenstances… Like if he had the time to drop Arin off at school, although you doubted he’d end up in the staff parking lot again… You’d had a good giggle to yourself remembering his face when he’d realised.

Other incidents were less realistic, like maybe he’d drop off a thank you present the students liked to gift to say goodbye, or maybe you’d bump into him at the grocery store, the park – highly improbable, but you found yourself thinking all these things when you were procrastinating or trying to get to sleep.

Even now as you tried to win a prize at the Ring Toss stall – don’t ask how much money you’d already spent – (obviously using your free time wisely before you were needed again), you found yourself disappointed that things hadn’t worked out quite like you’d imagined today. You were being stupid. The guy was supposed to annoy the heck out of you, yet here you were unable to stop thinking about him. It had been a long time since a man had gotten you this distracted. A really long time…

“Can I help?”

You jumped at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, granted you were in deep concentration, about to launch the hoop, but you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if he knew you’d been thinking about him, caught you in the act. You whipped your head up, forcing yourself to relax and smile.

“I’ve been watching you try to win for the past ten minutes.” He chuckled. Great. How embarrassing. He stepped closer. “What do you have your eyes so set on?”

Oh, god. Even more embarrassing. You had a split second to make a decision. Be truthful or lie and choose something else. You know what, who cared? You were thirty and still loved stuffed animals. It wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“The alpaca.” You pointed to the white fluffy animal sat on the top shelf. With his cute round face and a red scarf wrapped around his neck, he was adorable and you really wanted him.

Seokjin wasn’t fazed at all. “He’s cute. I’ll try but don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

You nodded and handed him the hoops. He needed to loop all three around the skittles. You watched him with anticipation, thinking to yourself this definitely wasn’t one of your fantasies, but you liked it regardless. Liked it even better when Seokjin managed to win.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled, his name still feeling strange to say aloud. The man in charge of the game passed you your new ‘pet’ and you held it fondly, unable to stop yourself. Your landlord didn’t allow animals so you’d had to improvise over the years. You’d never had an alpaca before, but you were sure he’d fit right in.

“No problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” He chuckled.

There was a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was new. You were so used to Seokjin joking about you were expecting him to take the lead. Today he was quiet, actually right now he looked pretty awkward.

You opened your mouth to ask him how he was when you suddenly realised something. How stupid of you. You’d been so distracted by the stuffed animal you hadn’t realised a little certain someone was missing. “Where’s Arin?”

“She’s playing with a friend and their family.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck, looking at you, but not really making eye contact. “Y/N, do you maybe want to take a walk? We could find some where to sit and talk?”

“About what?” You could’ve kicked yourself. Why did you have to ask that? You were just a little dazed from hearing him say your name again.

“Uh, just about Arin really.”

You didn’t really know what you’d been expecting so any answer would’ve surprised you, but you nodded, taking him up on the offer. “Okay.”

You knew a bench away from the fate but still on school grounds, and you walked side by side, noticing just how tall and broad he was. His shoulders looked unbelievable in that sweater, and it hugged his chest perfectly when the light breeze of the afternoon hit him, his well-built chest visible. Not that you were staring or anything, you just happened to notice…

You small talked along the way. Not much, mostly about the fate, but it was enough for you to hit your destination without any awkward silence. You wracked your brains as you sat, wondering what he had to say about Arin. Maybe he wanted to discuss her stories more, thank you for the prize she’d won. What you did know though, was that his cologne really did smell amazing. It was woody, maybe spicy, and just plain addicting. This close proximity was wreaking havoc with you again. You sat the alpaca between you both on bench, acting as a barrier for your sanity.

Seokjin patted its head absentmindedly before he side-eyed you, that amused smile you’d become familiar with upturning the corners of his mouth. “You seem a lot less scrappy today.”

You raised both eyebrows, thrown for a moment. “Scrappy?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “a lot less intimidating.”

You? Intimidating? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The sheer power of Seokjin’s brow line alone could bring a person to quivering knees, and that wasn’t mentioning the obvious, like you know, his face. However, he seemed genuine enough. You didn’t really consider yourself feisty, but then again, when pushed to your limits maybe something just snapped inside of you. You had powers you weren’t aware of, obviously. Better own them then…

You gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forgive and forget.”

He chuckled again, genuinely amused, but you sensed some reluctance his end, a slight awkwardness. Was he stalling? You suddenly grew a little nervous. The dynamics you’d grown somewhat used to during your last few encounters had shifted without you knowing. Seokjin was a lot less teasing today. How come?

“So,” you pressed carefully, unable to handle the anticipation. “What was it you wanted to say?”

He lifted his head up, warm eyes meeting yours and your insides did that flurrying thing again. Your imagination hadn’t concocted this. When he smiled you realised how kind it was – how kind it could be when he wasn’t being infuriating. “I just want to thank you.”

Your eyes widened before you could control the surprise. “Thank me?”

He nodded, relaxing a little now, pressing his back into the bench. “For being such an amazing teacher to Arin these past couple of months.”

Of course, Arin. That’s what he’d said in the beginning, right? He wanted to sit and talk about Arin.

“That’s really no problem,” you smiled. It was your job after all. Yes, teachers liked being appreciated for their hard work, but personally, praise sent you a little red in the face.

You didn’t know if he heard you, already continuing, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “It’s been really hard on her, the change – you know, uprooting the life she knew to come and live with me. New school, making new friends. She was incredibly worried, but you made it so much easier for her.”

Looking at you again, sounding so genuine, you found yourself freezing. You stumbled a little over your words before managing to come up with something functional. “Of course, it’s my job to make every student comfortable in my class.” You were sure any teacher would’ve treated her with the same kindness and care. But, yes, truthfully you had become very fond of her in such a short time. You wanted him to know that in a roundabout way. “I’ll miss her come September.”

He gave you an appreciative smile. “She’ll miss you too.”

Serious Seokjin always threw you. Maybe it was because you had to accept that you’d misjudged him completely. He wasn’t the rich pompous jerk you’d first thought the morning he’d hit your car. You had to admit that like this he impressed and intrigued you. It was why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him these past two weeks. Which was stupid because you doubted he was doing the same.

“Thanks for choosing her to win that writing competition, by the way.” His voice brought you back to Earth, concentrating on him again to find that mischievous grin all over his face. “Even if you didn’t like the way it ended.”

You scoffed. Was he ever going to drop that? He knew that wasn’t the case. He’d asked for the damn pointer himself. “Well, if Lewis Carroll did it.”

“Kim Arin can too?” He finished, both of you instantly laughing. Once it petered off, he tilted his head to the side, gazing at you almost. It made you fidget a little, getting flustered. “She’s really fond of you. I meant what I said at the parent-teacher meeting.”

God, you really were horrendous at taking compliments. Especially from a man that already made you feel funny.

“She’s always speaking about how kind and lovely you are.” A pause. "...How pretty you are.” You froze. He hesitated, contemplating something in his head it seemed. He looked you straight in the eyes and said casually, “I have to admit, I agree."

Oh. What?! You felt heat begin to travel up your face, your cheeks burning and you prayed it wasn't visible. You didn't know what to reply, but thankfully (perhaps) Seokjin simply carried on, hopefully oblivious to your awkward reaction. You should bypass it too. It probably didn't mean anything. He was just being polite, right?

“Realising it was your car I hit made me feel even guiltier." He shook his head regretfully. "I really am sorry for all that. The damage, stealing your car."

"It's fine, Seokjin." He hadn’t really stolen your car, you’d been extremely overdramatic there. He'd apologised enough already. You were over it. You had two days left of school, the summer all yours, your mood was much better. Let bygones be bygones.

“Yeah but, I should’ve never gotten your car towed. I realise I was out of line. You said you didn’t want my help but I didn’t listen."

You nodded, listening to him, aware he needed to say this. Again, it seemed as if he'd rehearsed it almost, or maybe it was the professional in him. You were too damn stubborn so he wasn't all to blame. You smiled appreciatively, fighting your hand's strange urge to pat his shoulder. It was maybe best that you didn't touch him. Instead you gave a teasing grin. “But you still won’t let me pay you back?”

He whined – or at least that's the only way you could describe it. It tugged at something inside your chest. Maybe it was more like a wail. Less cute. He couldn't believe you were back on that.

"I'm just messing around," you laughed, trying to compose yourself to let him know something too. “While we're on apologies... I'm sorry for being so short with you annnd for calling you a car thief."

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. Oh, it was pushed back above his forehead again today. You hadn't noticed, too distracted by what? His sneakers? The outfit as a whole? His face? “I deserved it, let’s be honest."

"Maybe in the beginning," you admitted carefully, causing him to laugh harder.

“I was way too preoccupied when I hit you. With work and promising Arin I’d drop her off at school – because shamefully I’d never done it before." He turned a little pensive at that, lost in his own thoughts.

“You must be really busy," you said, voice soft. There was no way he could do it all. Work seemingly six days a week and still try to be there for Arin 24/7.

He looked across at you, an eyebrow quirking slightly. What was he surprised by? That you were sympathising with him? He nodded slowly. “It’s just hard learning to juggle everything. Don’t get me wrong, I love having her with me every day, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You wanted to say it would be summer break soon enough, but then on second thoughts, maybe that would make things even harder.

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, changing the subject back to you. “Besides, me being busy doesn’t really excuse the fact I hit you. I mean, what if god forbid you’d been walking past my car instead, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” He looked beside himself at just the idea.

“But I wasn’t,” you reminded him, “so it’s perfectly okay.”

“You’re right,” he murmured, giving you a small smile that rounded his cheeks.

There was silence then, where you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? To thank you for being a kind teacher to Arin and to say sorry once again for the car debacle? For some reason you felt eager to keep the conversation going. It was an urge deep inside you that acted on its own accord.

“So, what do you do?” You asked, trying your best to sound casual. Not that you weren’t casual. You just didn’t want to make it seem like you were desperate for small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Again, he looked vaguely surprised. What, that you were interested in him? No, that was phrased wrong. That you were interested. He didn’t meet your eyes as he replied. “I, uh, I’m the CEO of LG. I took over from my father about three years ago.”

You swore your eyes bugged out of their sockets you were so overcome with shock. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you as you tried to pull it together. “The LG?”

Like one of the biggest companies in the country LG? He was way too young surely? Weren’t those type of CEOs old and round looking?

Seokjin chuckled, finally looking you in the eyes. “Unless you know another one.”

You were speechless, well aware you needed to actually say something in reply instead of gawping but what? What could you say to that? “I guess that explains why you’re always so busy then.”

God, why? Of all the things, why that? Well done for stating the obvious, Y/N.

Seokjin gave you a modest smile. “It’s difficult, yes. Trying to manage work and being effectively a single dad, but I really am trying.” He shook his head slightly, as if he was telling himself off. “I missed her so much these past couple of years, so to finally have her living with me is a dream come true. I’m trying to be the best father I can but I guess it’s a work in progress.”

You weren’t expecting him to be this open with you at all. But maybe Soojung wouldn’t be so surprised. She and a bunch of your other friends, even acquittances said that you were easy to confide in. That you listened well and didn’t try to solve everything. You didn’t know how true that was but you didn’t mind listening to him right now. Sometimes confiding in a stranger just worked.

“Arin obviously adores you.” You smiled. “I could see that the day I dropped your car back.”

He gave you a tiny smile of thanks but sighed softly. “I just want her to always be happy. I know coming from a broken home may make that statement hypocritical but…”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “If a relationship isn’t working out then you need to do what’s best for your child, and you.” That was important too. “I mean, my parents divorced when I was quite young and I have a million and one happy memories growing up.”

You grew a little self-conscious, thinking that you were oversharing, but he seemed happy to hear it, perking up a little. “Really?”

“Yep. They beat the ones I have of them yelling at one another.”

He gave a bitter chuckle then, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. It’s just…” He paused and you wondered if he was going to carry on. Was it bad that you felt curious? You liked seeing this side of Seokjin, it wasn’t how your fantasies had gone at all, it was better. Things had taken an unexpected turn but it just seemed to fit. It seemed natural. It felt nice to talk to him like this. Suddenly you didn’t seem so different. Despite the contrasts in your job and lifestyle, they weren’t very apparent here on this bench…

“My ex-wife is… she lives a busy life – even busier than mine. But she loves it. She goes looking for it.” Seokjin explained. You listened politely. “That’s why Arin had to start living with me, and even though I’m pulled thin, I still try to make enough time for my daughter, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter anything. Nana doesn’t…”

Nana? That was her name. You imagined someone slim and beautiful, it was only fitting seeing as Seokjin was the man she was married to once upon a time. Beauty attracted beauty.

“Is that why you divorced?” Okay, maybe you were prying now. You hoped he didn’t find it rude.

He didn’t. “There were a lot of reasons,” he answered honestly. “It was as much my fault as it was hers. We were going in different directions and had fallen out of love. It’s been a while now, nearly two years, I’m fine.” He met your eyes at the last part, as if he wanted you to understand that. Or maybe you were reading it wrong. Why would he want you to know that?

“Does she live far?” You remembered Arin’s disappointment that weekend when her mom had cancelled their plans. Maybe she lived a while away and it was hard to commute with Arin back and forth.

“No, just in the next city. It’s not far at all. She’s really high up in an accounting firm there. That’s why when we divorced I moved closer to my building here. See, that’s what annoys me the most,” Seokjin scoffed, an edge to his voice now. Oh shoot, you’d made a mistake with that question. “It’s really no distance at all, so why can’t she spare one single day for Arin?”

You made a sympathetic face, unsure what to say. You decided on honesty. “I’m sorry, I can’t even begin to imagine how all that feels.”

Break-ups and divorces were hard yes, but when a child was stuck in the middle a tonne of other complications arose. As a teacher you understood that very well, but as a long-time single woman, maybe not. It had been a while since you’d opened your heart to someone, your life taking a very different turn to what you’d expected three years ago. Not that you minded, you liked where you were heading right now, comfortable and at ease. There was nothing missing. You had your friends and family and that was enough. You hoped Seokjin had people around him too.

“No, I’m the one that should apologise,” he said suddenly, face tinged with colour, as if he was embarrassed. “I’m offloading onto you, that isn’t fair.”

“I don’t mind.” Honestly, you didn’t at all. It wasn’t even offloading, more so a conversation. You were getting to know him.

“You’re just so easy to talk to and I got a bit caught off guard when you started asking about me.” He admitted, his warm eyes finding yours.

Oh. So now you knew for definite he was indeed surprised by all your questions. When was the last time he’d spoken about all that stuff relating his ex-wife? Had he ever spoken about it at all?

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you today.”

His words caught your attention, interrupting your thoughts and in the process confusing you greatly. You raised a questioning eyebrow. What did he mean?

“When I asked you to take a walk I did want to thank you for being so kind to Arin and to apologise for the car trouble, but there was also something else…” You waited patiently, heart thudding quite roughly against your chest for some reason. He looked nervous again. Nervous and awkward just like earlier, before you’d distracted him.

He chose a new direction. One that left you a little dazed. “Y/N, would I be crossing the line if I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately?” His dark brown eyes searched for any reaction across your face.

“Me?” You asked quietly.

He chuckled bashfully. “Yeah.”

Somehow you found your voice. Well, some of it anyway. “No, it’s not crossing the line.” You wanted to tell him just the same. How he’d slipped into your mind at random times of the day and how you’d secretly been holding out on another meeting. How you’d been anticipating today. But none of that came in your stunned state. Seokjin had been thinking about you? The annoying, exasperating so-and-so hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you?

He instantly looked relieved – and pleased – at your answer. “I’m glad.” A pause as he hesitated. “Do you maybe want to… go out for dinner this Saturday?” He sounded hopeful, adding quickly, “with me, obviously.”

You would’ve giggled at that but nothing was working. You needed to process his question. He was asking you for dinner?

“My way of apologising for everything, my treat…” You guessed he felt the need to explain now, a little panicked by your reaction (or no reaction.) “For hitting your car and towing it away without your permission.”

You laughed then. Just like that your shock dispersing. He was so oblivious it hurt, and now you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He really was that unaware. “So you want to spend more of your money on me?”

You weren’t mad, of course. He knew that, laughing too as he weighed up your reply. “I see the problem.” You snickered, your gaze intimately locking with his in the process. “So, what do you say?” He murmured. “I mean, it’s for a plethora of things really. The car business, all you’ve done for Arin. One massive thank you.”

Oh. You were getting mixed messages here. Was this an apology dinner, a thank you dinner? Or something more? Maybe he read the questioning in your eyes because he was rushing to say more. “As well as just wanting to enjoy your company. I feel like I talked too much about myself today, I’d like to get to know you too…”

Okay, now this sounded awfully like a date… And that word freaked you out. Had you not just been thinking about how happily single you’d been for three years and how all you needed were your friends and family? But honestly, you were getting ahead of yourself. It was one dinner. There was no way to predict the outcome and you shouldn’t even be thinking that far ahead. Sometimes you didn’t need to think. You needed to remember that. Sometimes it was just good to act in the moment. Take cautious to the wind and accept this incredibly handsome man’s dinner invitation, whatever his intention was.

You smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened a tad, surprise visible and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” You laughed and nodded. Really you should be the one still shocked, because despite everything – the misjudgements, the attitude, the way you’d been itching for numerous fights with him, it was a wonder why he still wanted to be anywhere near you. …Maybe he liked that… Maybe he liked you? Or were you absolutely barking mad?

“Can I have your number to arrange everything?”

You went to relay it to him, watching him pull his phone from out his front jean pocket but then remembered something. “Oh, I already have yours, should I just text you?”

“That’s my work phone. Maybe we should swap personal phone numbers?”

You mean, you only had one phone, but it made sense why he had two. You were still stuck on the personal part though. A little dazed (and excited) as he saved your number into his phonebook. Your phone was locked up in your classroom, so you couldn’t take his but no matter, you’d just save it once he messaged you.

Seokjin glanced at his watch – an expensive looking thing, but that was really no surprise now – and hummed. “We should head back, the fate will be finishing soon.”

You made more small talk as you walked back, Seokjin wondering if you had any allergies or a special diet so he could bear it in mind when he chose a restaurant. Luckily for you no, but you found out that he was allergic to garlic and potatoes, which seemed ridiculous and highly unfair. But he did admit that he ignored it sometimes, which resulted in disaster often because garlic made him itch like crazy. You had a good laugh over that.

“So, what are you going to name him?” Seokjin asked, stroking the top of your alpaca’s head who was hooked against your hip as you walked.

“Hm. I don’t know.” You shrugged, turning to him. “You decide? You did win him after all.”

“Hmmm,” he thought aloud. A few seconds later he came up with something. “How about RJ?”

“RJ?”

Seokjin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

Smiling, you had to agree. “Yeah, it is.” You held the stuffed animal up in front of you, tilting your head to the side. “RJ the alpaca. Perfect.”

Still walking as you spoke, you felt Seokjin move in, hovering his hand behind the small of your back in case you stumbled, your attention elsewhere. You felt the same warmth you had the day he’d called you by your name for the first time…

Of course you had to tell Soojung about the events of the day. It wasn't as if you could keep it a secret – and it wasn't as if you wanted to, you just knew what would happen... She was like a dog with a bone, unable to give it up, making you recall every minute detail down to the socks he was wearing (black, by the way, to match his jeans. You had indeed noticed).

“He’s so smart. He waits until you’re not this kid’s teacher anymore and then BAM, do you want to go on a date?”

“Soojung, it’s not a date," you sighed. “He’s just…being nice."

You were still reluctant to call it a date, because well, he hadn't used the word himself. You didn't want to get your hopes up. Although you would never admit that to her, you knew she understood, in her own roundabout way.

“Being nice?!” She exclaimed, scoffing absurdly loud.

You shrugged. “Yeah, thanking me."

She spluttered, as if she found you terribly naive. “What, thanks for being kind to my daughter? SHUT UP, it’s your job! No, he wants to give you that Dilf dick!"

“Oh, my god. Soojung!” You hushed, immediately feeling your face burn. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind because it was so unbelievable.

Saturday was not that long away, the last two days of school flew by, and whilst you were emotional, your mind was also a little too preoccupied with the weekend and what it all meant. Gradually, you’d finally had to admit to yourself that this was probably, most definitely a date. The word sent a fear through your body like no other. Despite being single for three years, you had been on a few first dates in that time, and obviously they had never led to anything. In fact, it had been over a year since your last and that's when you had sworn off dating altogether.

Min Yoongi. That was the last guy you'd said yes too. A fifth grade teacher at Primrose Hill up until last September. (That had nothing to do with you, by the way, he'd just moved cities last summer to pursue a different career. The date hadn't been that bad...) He was easy on the eye and funny, although maybe a little too sarcastic at times, so much so, you hadn't been able to pick up on the signals until he was cornering you in the staff room and asking you to watch a movie with him that coming weekend. Being both teachers, you'd assumed you'd hit it off straight away, but that wasn't the case. It turned out that Yoongi pretty much hated his job, only there for the extended vacations. That was perfectly fine, you guessed, but you realised that a man like that wasn't for you. How could you both love and hate the same job? It just wasn't feasible.

You didn't miss dating, mostly because you hadn't been that into the idea anyway. But now? Now that the idea had presented itself again? After the most peculiar string of events, you had suddenly found yourself being asked out for dinner by the man who had hit your car, and you were… excited. For the first time in forever, you were excited for a date.

You hadn’t felt like this since –

Since Donghae.

Even thinking his name turned your heart heavy. Not as bad as the original heartbreak three years ago, but the memory was still enough to dampen your mood, if even for a moment. You'd met one another during your last year of college and had stayed together for the next five years. He'd been your forever man, the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with – he had proposed to you on your 26th birthday after all... Only, being his fiancé hadn't lasted. Since months later he confessed to cheating on you – repeatedly with a girl that worked in the Starbucks near his work building. It had been the pressure of settling down, that's what he'd told you. He was still young, had been very young when you'd gotten together in college and he wanted to experience life properly. His friends were out clubbing every weekend while he stayed inside playing boardgames with you and your friends. Your friends, as if they weren't his too, as if you all hadn't been joined at the hip in college...

Your life had pretty much crumbled after that. Everything you'd known had been ripped from under your feet and you had no idea what to do or where to go. One day you had been someone's wife-to-be and the next you were a lonely, broken human. You moved in with Soojung, had to take a month off work because you couldn't function properly, and slowly had to learn how to live your life without the love of your life.

It took a while, but gradually you got there. You and Soojung found a new, bigger place to live – where you still lived now – and you found ways to stop thinking about him, went on weekend vacations and started new hobbies. It took just over a year to feel yourself again but dating never seemed right.

Soojung slowly encouraged you to try it out, but the handful that happened in that twelve month period just felt forced – even the one with Yoongi, which had pretty much happened organically (as in, Soojung hadn't set it up…), felt like it was missing something. In a way you knew you were comparing everyone to Donghae, you couldn't help it. You couldn't imagine potentially falling in love with someone else again. He was all you'd known for so long, and once upon a time your relationship had been amazing. He'd been amazing. Getting out of that mindset had been difficult, but there had been an even more difficult one... One you were still struggling with now. The issue of opening up your heart again.

Truthfully, that's why you’d stayed single for so long. Why you'd given up on dating and didn't want to know. The thought of you meeting and falling for someone only to inevitably get hurt again terrified you. You wouldn't say you had trust issues, you knew not every man was like Donghae, but just imagining your world crumbling like it had three years ago was enough to just give up.

It wasn't like you were unhappy though. You’d meant all that stuff about liking where your life was heading. You had your friends and family and a job you loved. Your life was fulfilling, there was nothing missing. But maybe that’s what you’d needed to realise… Life worked in mysterious ways. Once you were happy and content maybe it was finally time to open up your heart again.

The truth was, you were very, very attracted to Seokjin. You felt something, even when you wanted to poke his eyeballs out for being so annoying. Actually, thinking about it, maybe that’s why you’d been so scrappy, your mind was fighting with your heart… Despite the obvious differences between you both, you oddly weren’t fazed by that right now. Seokjin didn’t seem unrelatable in that sense. Yes, your lives were crazy different, but there was something between you. You were sure of it. The way he’d opened up to you on that bench, the way he’d smiled at you, and even the way he’d teased you. It had to mean something.

Sometimes it was okay to trust your heart. That warm feeling weaving its way through your chest… Sometimes it was okay to be a little exposed. Not everyone was out to get you.

What was the worst that could happen? The dinner never led to anything else? That would be okay, you’d get over it. But what if it did lead to something more…?

You deserved to find out, right?

Saturday morning you received a text from Seokjin. You were eating breakfast at the small table you had set up in the kitchen alongside Soojung. She had only just woken up and was still a little bleary eyed but still managed to instantly perk up at the mention of Seokjin. She demanded to see his message straight away.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

She squealed. “This guy writes his texts like they’re emails. You just know he’s going to be a good lay.”

“Soojung,” you groaned. She would not shut up about Dilf dick this and Dilf dick that. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s a CEO,” she said simply, eyes wide as if that explained everything. “Of one of this country’s biggest companies. That’s like some type of erotic novel shit.”

You groaned loudly, dropping your head into your hands, but she still continued – sadly.

“But none of that creepy Fifty Shades of Grey stuff. This guy is a real gentleman. Like he puts your pleasure above all else. I think he’d be really good at going down on a woman.”

By this point, you’d stopped feeling flustered by her insane claims. They were just normal now. She was unbelievable. Why was she even thinking of these things and where did she come up with them? You didn’t want to think of Seokjin like that because you really wanted to keep your sanity for tonight. Plus, no way were you ready for something like that yet. You hoped Seokjin wasn’t anticipating something more. You were sure he wasn’t, you hadn’t gotten those vibes. Soojung was just being dumb.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t half talk some shit.”

You wanted her to point out how cute his text was instead. Like how he’d said he was Arin’s father, you know, just in case you’d forgotten who he was in two days, but no, she was too caught up on potential erotic novel titles.

You slipped to the side with a start when Soojung nudged your shoulder, getting all up into your personal space as she teased you. “I’m right though, huh?”

You pushed her back. “This is just a dinner. Not the start of an erotic novel.”

She shrugged. “I’d read it.”

“What would you read?”

Taehyung’s voice appeared from the doorway and you both looked up to see him leaning against it, eyes still pretty much glued shut, his thick hair pulled all ways.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Soojung greeted, standing up to make her way towards him. You watched her wrap her arms around his middle, nuzzling into him. She’d only left him in bed not half an hour ago. Seeing your best friend in love was odd but nice. You weren’t used to sappy Soojung, but you had to admit it suited her well. They were cute together.

Taehyung wrapped one arm around his girlfriend and lifted the other to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “What are you guys yelling about down here? You woke me up.”

“Y/N’s date tonight,”

“Oh, Mr. Dilf?” He sniggered, perking up.

Soojung screeched and joined in. “CEO Dilf dick.”

“You told him?!” You whined, standing to dump your bowl in the sink.

“Of course.” Taehyung smiled smugly. “She tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yep.” She grinned. You watched in minor amusement as Taehyung leant down to peck her mouth, Soojung gagging loudly. “Your breath stinks.”

You replied to Seokjin promptly – well as soon as Soojung and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen – and not long after that he messaged back with the restaurant details, asking if it was okay to pick you up at 7pm. You sent him your address, almost immediately freaking out. You knew his wealth hadn't fazed you that bad, seeing as he was so easy to talk to, but your place and his place were on different planes of existence. You knew it wouldn't bother him, he wasn't like that, you knew that now, but you were still a little self-conscious. It was probably the nerves regarding today. The reality was setting it. The slight doubt…

Soojung wasn't helping.

“There’s steaks on the menu that are more than our rent a week," she awed, looking down at her phone.

Why had you given her the name of the restaurant again? You would never learn your lesson. She had already googled his name when you’d told her he was the CEO of LG and she had been this close to searching his net worth before you’d stopped her. You didn’t want to know, not only was it incredibly invasive, it made you feel slightly faint. Seeing his image pop up online was enough for you . A professional headshot, he smiled kindly into the camera lens. It was crazy to think that it was the man you’d be going to dinner with.

Soojung would be good for one thing though – helping you decide on an outfit for tonight. Taehyung had gone home a couple of hours ago, needed at the bar he owned so she had nothing else better to do. Not that she was listening to you though…

She shrugged. “What did I expect? This dude is a billionaire."

“He’s not."

Billionaire seemed a lot more intimidating than a millionaire, but in reality what was the difference? He was unbelievably rich and you were just... you. You shook your head, attempting to claw yourself out of the anxiety hole you'd found yourself in. His job didn't matter. The restaurant he'd chosen didn't matter. You were going for dinner with him to enjoy his company and get to know him better. The finer details were irrelevant.

“Come on! If not he must be a multi-multimillionaire." She rationalised. "His dad is the billionaire."

You groaned. "Will you stop making me nervous and help me pick something to wear?"

You decided on the midi dress you'd actually worn to Eunbi's wedding last summer. It was the only fancy thing you had – or at least fancy enough to dine at a restaurant that sold insane dollar steaks. But wait, the restaurant wasn't supposed to matter, remember?

You still wanted to look nice though. The dress was modest in itself but maybe the colour was a bit eye-catching – a deep red. Soojung said it was perfect and you'd knock his Dilf socks off. By now you were getting sick of the word. You told her as much.

"What if I don't want to sleep with him?"

"As if." She scoffed. "Your dry spell has gone on far too long. You deserve this." She caught the look of apprehension on your face. "When you're ready of course."

"Don't make me –”

"Nervous, I know" she finished for you, sighing loudly. "There's no need to be. Mr. Dilf is whipped for you, I just know it."

How did she know? She hadn't even met him, but you appreciated the sentiment. You did not appreciate it when she was being a clever bitch though.

"I'm just trying to work this out." She said, watching you apply your mascara in the bathroom mirror. It was much later in the day now, about forty minutes before Seokjin was due to pick you up. You were dressed, hair up, makeup nearly done, and sick to your stomach with anticipation. You hummed, letting her know you'd heard her and to continue.

"You were mad when Dilf spent money on your car but you're okay with him spending mad money on you at this restaurant?"

"Soojung," you warned, staring at her reflection in the glass.

She held her hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. Is it okay when it's food?"

You sighed. You knew it didn't really make sense, you guessed, but well, you'd said yes to the dinner. You hadn't said yes to the car being repaired. That was the difference.

"I'm not going to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

"Well, don't just order a side salad, he'll think you're weird..."

You simply stared at her. Her input was so appreciated.

“He’s here, oh my god, he’s here!” Soojung screamed, spying through the voile curtains in the living room. "Ten minutes early. I love that."

“Soojung, move away, now." You told her sternly.

“The fucking car–” She cut herself with a muffled sound. As if she was trying to stifle her own screams. You guessed he'd gotten out of said car. “What the fuck, what the fuck, he’s SO hot. I’m going to pass out."

“Soojung!" Dropping your phone into your purse you slipped on your heels, nearly tripping over in the process. You gripped onto the back of the couch just in time. "I swear to god if he sees you."

She spun around, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You never said he was that hot."

You shrugged. "You never asked."

"I asked every goddamn second of the day. You lucky bitch." She walked towards you, fixing a piece of your hair that had fallen into your eyes. “How come you get hot billionaire Dilf and I get the man-child whose special talent is making cocktails."

"Shut up," you scoffed. She loved Taehyung and his cocktail making skills. That's how they'd met after all. She drunk at the bar three days a week for a month straight until he asked her out.

The doorbell rung and you froze, remembering how nervous you were. Soojung's antics had distracted you for a while but now reality was setting in. As you turned to leave she tapped your ass. “Get that Dilf dick, girl!”

"Soojung, I swear to god –”

"I won't wait up."

Ha. As if. She'd be glued to that window until Seokjin dropped you off back home. You knew her all too well, you'd been best friends for over ten years.

In the entryway now, you didn't have time for breathing exercises. Although, you wished you'd had once you opened the door to see Seokjin stood there looking devastating handsome.

“Hi," he smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey," you managed to squeeze out, cemented to the ground.

He was dressed in a double breasted navy two piece that must have been tailored to fit his body down to the millimetre, a crisp white dress shirt on underneath. His hair looked shorter, falling just above is eyebrows and parted slightly in the middle. He looked good enough to eat. Or good enough to make you pass out. Either one.

“You look beautiful," he awed, rendering you pretty speechless.

This was a date. It really was a date.

"Thank you," you managed to reply, needing to return the compliment. But what could you possibly say?! “You look…really good."

Oh god. How embarrassing.

Especially when Seokjin burst out laughing, that familiar squeak to it that you'd heard at the parent-teacher meeting. "I'll take it. Thanks." He tilted his head. "Are you ready to go? I'm a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

You nodded, clutching your purse tight to your side. "I, uh... I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing." You raised your voice a little so she'd hear you, but on her best behaviour she stayed deathly silent. Well done, Soojung.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but you figured you'd fill him in inside the car. "It's fine," he shook his head.

Seeing you stepping forward he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to invite you to lead the way. You did, making sure not to look back towards the living room window, because you knew for a fact you'd see Soojung pressed up against it.

“This is all new for me.” Seokjin admitted, sat opposite you as you waited for your dessert. “I haven’t been on a date for years.”

To say the night had gone well would be an understatement. At first you’d been too nervous to even breathe, especially with Seokjin looking like that just a few centimetres away from you as he drove. It didn’t help that he seemed to be some type of regular at the restaurant, getting greeted as if he was an old friend of the manager and led to his ‘usual’ table; a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle. It turned out he co-owned the place with his brother, looking mildly embarrassed as he told you. It was cute, but he had nothing to be self-conscious over, this was his life, normal to him. I hope you don’t see it as a cop-out, he confessed, causing some confusion your end. Why would you see it that way? This restaurant was beautiful, certainly popular, and you couldn’t wait to try the food. You told him as much and he laughed about feeling nervous now.

You tried lobster for the first time ever – his recommendation. It was kind of messy, but he ordered the same so you were both in it together. You laughed, you joked, you got to know one another more. Conversation came easy, both relaxed in one another’s company, and after the main you both decided to share a dessert, too stuffed for anything more.

“Snap,” you grinned, silently happy that was the case, although rather amazed. Seokjin was, well… him, who wouldn’t want to snap him up? However then again, he was a busy, divorced father. Dating probably wasn’t high up on his list. You were so distracted by his confession, you didn’t even comprehend he’d used the word ‘date.’

“Really?” Seokjin’s eyes bulged slightly. Why was he so surprised?

You shrugged casually. “It’s been well over a year since my last date.”

Seokjin’s mouth curved, amused. “Try over ten.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you laughed, but yes, he indeed had you beat.

He laughed along, the arrival of your lemon cheesecake interrupting you both for a moment. It was a few bites later when the conversation got back on track again, Seokjin’s tone careful as he looked across at you, both of you reaching for another bit of the cheesecake with your dessert forks. “You don’t mind me calling this a date, do you? This isn’t the part where you tell me you’ve been in a relationship for five years and you just thought this was an innocent thank you dinner?”

You giggled softy, shaking your head. “No. I don’t mind you calling it a date.” You brought the fork up to your mouth, taking your time to chew before you continued. “Soojung was adamant it was but I… didn’t want get my hopes up?” You wanted to be honest. This night was about opening yourself up to the uncertain.

“Soojung, your best friend? The one you live with?” He asked.

You nodded. You’d already told him all about your best friend, about how you lived with each other. Seokjin hadn’t bat an eyelid, which was nice. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but the differences in your living arrangements were stark. He thought it sounded fun. He still remembered living with his best friend Namjoon back in college and how entertaining that had been. He’d definitely be up for it again if they weren’t both dads now – divorced at that, but hey ho, that was life.

“Well, she was correct.” Seokjin continued. “I thought I made it clear but I guess I was too cryptic.”

“So, which one is it?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow in interest. “Not an innocent thank you dinner or not an innocent dinner?”

You were feeling brave, however your heart still thudded inside your chest, adrenaline whooshing through your veins. There was something about Seokjin that made you act so out of character…

Seokjin failed to conceal the visible surprise across his features and you watched him swallow before he composed himself, a smirk appearing on his lips immediately. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were flirting with me right now.”

You shrugged. “I’m just checking if your intentions are innocent or not?” You took another bite of the cheesecake.

His smirk grew, and you watched him drop his fork onto the plate to lean back in his chair. “I would say they are, however, I did have plans to kiss you on the cheek tonight, so maybe, busted?” He chuckled then, at himself – he liked doing that you’d noticed. It was kind of cute.

The butterflies were back. Now there was no need to ignore or try to explain them. You took them as what they were – a good sign. Humming aloud, you tilted your head to the side and pretended to contemplate. “I think I can let you do that.”

Seokjin laughed. “You can? Okay, that sounds good.”

You reached for your glass of wine, needing a sip just to calm the flurry inside of you. Seokjin tucked his chair closer, still laughing but quietly now, more like a chuckle. “Honestly, I was pretty much shitting my pants today.”

You snorted into your glass, taken by surprise at his choice of words. “Sorry,” you apologised, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the sound that had just left your nose. He didn’t same fazed. “I was nervous too.”

That seemed to settle him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing the brim of his glass. “I guess we were being silly.” His lips parted to say something else but he hesitated. You watched him take a quiet exhale, then he continued. “My therapist has been begging me to try dating again for months but the thought has always been pretty terrifying.” He gave a small shrug, his warm eyes locking with yours. “Until I met you.”

You could feel your heart rate speeding up, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He was pleased, grinning back, posture visibly relaxing. “She said I should face up to my fears and just ask you out.”

There were a lot of thoughts whirring through your mind right now. The fact he felt comfortable enough to disclose with you that he had a therapist, and the fact that he’d even mentioned you to her, that she had encouraged him to ask you out. The fact he’d liked you enough to want to take the plunge at all. After two years of being alone, you were the woman who had made him want to try again… It felt comparable to your own thoughts, to your feelings… and that’s why you felt so relaxed tonight. It just felt right.

“I like you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I know we don’t know one another very well, but I hope that this is just the beginning.”

Despite his words sending your butterflies crazy, you kept your cool, trying to stunt your smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.”

He chuckled. You let yourself smile at the sound. “Not so bad. I’ll take it.” He picked up his fork again, taking a bite of the cheesecake you’d both forgotten about. His voice was careful, genuine to match his expression, when he carried on. “Despite the circumstances of how we met and what followed, I don’t know, I haven’t felt a spark like that in forever.” He reached for a sip of his wine, laughing. “What do you think? You can call me crazy if you want.”

“I think you’re right.” There was no doubt about it now. You’d been adamant in the beginning that was nothing there – no spark, no flirting, insisting Soojung was wrong, but now you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction. You’d immediately bounced off one another that evening during the parent-teacher meeting, despite your annoyance the day before.

You grinned. “You frustrated me to no end but I felt something too.”

He tilted his head to the left, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Frustrated you? How so?”

“You know how,” you laughed. “I may or may not have called you an exasperating bastard in my head.”

He couldn’t contain himself then, taken back and genuinely amused. “Oh god,” he practically wheezed. “I like that one.”

You laughed along, unable not to when the sound he made brought you such joy. You reached for another forkful of cheesecake, the dessert nearly coming to an end. Just like the date, you thought. You didn’t want it to end, you were enjoying yourself too much.

“What about now?”

You looked up at Seokjin, eyes widening in question. What did he mean? He was staggeringly composed now, although his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned and explained. “Do I frustrate you now?”

You tried to stunt your own smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Not tonight.”

“At the fate?”

“Nope.”

He nodded his head, seemingly happy with your answers. “I guess things are looking up then.” He picked up his glass again, about to take a sip before he paused and added, “Although, I must admit, I liked frustrating you. You look so cute when your mad.”

You felt heat immediately burn its way to your cheeks, hoping the lighting in this restaurant was dim enough not to make it obvious. He took a swig of his wine. “Watch it, Mr. Kim.” As he chuckled it muffled inside the glass.

You went for the last piece of cheesecake, figuring you were owed that now. You looked across at him as you chewed, knowing that if you really wanted this to happen again you needed to let him know. Face up to your fears of opening up, telling people how you really felt. “I’d like to get to know you better, Seokjin.”

“Really?” He sounded hopeful, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass again.

“Mmhm.” You nodded. “You seem like a lovely man if we ignore the car stealing...”

“Hey,” he whined, “you apologised for that already, you can’t bring it up again.” You held your hands up in silent defence, chuckling silently, watching him lean closer. “But please, go back to what you were saying about me being a lovely man. Stroke my ego, it’s been a long week.”

Had it? You were curious, concerned really. You thought to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but you guessed the last thing he’d like to do was discuss work on a date. Instead, you decided to tell him about what attracted you most to him. The thing that had inevitably made you change your mind and realise that maybe, quite possibly, you’d misjudged him.

“Arin really adores you and I can see how much you dote on her. Any man cherished by his child is a good one in my eyes.”

“Oh.” He simply replied, possibly at a loss of words. He looked touched – happy, but ultimately unsure of what to reply, so he bypassed it in a way, raising an eyebrow. “So is there some kind of checklist?”

“What do you mean?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Like, ‘kids like him – check.’ ‘He knows how to clean dishes – check.’ – I can by the way. I’m really good with a pair of washing up gloves and some dish soap.”

You burst out laughing, not quite believing your ears. “Yeah, okay.” You admitted. “There’s a list.” Didn’t every woman have one?

“Let’s see how I fare then.” Seokjin said, sounding sure of himself as he leant back in his seat, hands behind his head – the image of casual. Maybe you were into this cocky Seokjin… It was sort of hot.

“Okay so…” You began, leaning forward. “Family man – check.” You’d already approved that one. “Loves animals?”

He scoffed. “Easy. Animals are so much better than humans.”

Okay, more points his way… “Uhh.” You thought aloud, racking your brains. “Does he make me laugh?”

Seokjin mulled it over. “That sounds like a decision you have to make, but I think it’s a yes? I mean, you’ve been laughing all night. Unless you were just being nice.”

“No, you are funny,” you confirmed, although you were unable to miss an opportunity to mess around with him. “You have that, what should I call it,” you pretended to think, “that old man type sense of humour.”

“Hey. I’m not that old,” he huffed.

You chuckled quietly. True, he wasn’t old, but you were still surprised when you’d found out he was turning 38 this coming December. Some people were blessed with ageing gracefully. Of course he was one of them. The man looked amazing for someone two years away from forty.

“What about you?” You wondered. “Do you have a checklist?”

He sat upright again, setting his elbow on the table to drop his chin in his palm, giving you his full attention. “Yes, and you check them all.”

“I do?” You laughed in disbelief. Either he was easy to please or he wanted brownie points.

He shrugged, as if to say of course. “You’re funny, caring, can be kind of scary at times – which I’m sort of into, to be honest.”

“I’m not scary,” you protested, pouting slightly. However, what? He was into it? That made you feel funny…

He smirked. “I beg to differ.”

You rolled your eyes. “What else do I check off?”

He didn’t need time to think. “You’re insanely beautiful.” Your dumbfounded expression made him second guess himself. He pulled a face. “Yikes. Too cheesy?”

You grinned, getting a hold of yourself. “Maybe, but then again, maybe I like that.” How could you not like being called beautiful? How could you not like receiving a compliment? Especially from him.

He smiled, gazing into your eyes as he leant forward. You felt immediate warmth when his hand cupped yours across the table. This was the first time he’d touched you, right? Your mind was a blur right now, unable to recall two hours ago, let alone two weeks ago. When he spoke, you only felt warmer, the soft timbre of his voice fluttering through your whole body. “I’m really attracted to you, Y/N.”

And what could you say to that? You swallowed, wetting your throat, realising it had become dry. He was waiting for a reply, amused by something – your blank looking face most probably. He had the ability to render you speechless, and he knew it. He liked it.

Well, no, not on your watch. You’d get the last word. You’d win.

Composing yourself, you slipped your hand from under his, tapping it lightly, as if you were consoling him. “I’ve said it once already, but you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Kim.”

Taken aback, he chuckled quietly in bemusement, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me wrinkles.”

A man of his word, he did kiss you on the cheek after the date was over. He waited until he had driven you home and opened the door for you to step out of the car – ever the gentleman, you’d teased. You stood by the little gate that lead a pathway to your front door, and that’s where he’d leant down to place his lips ever so lightly against the top of your left cheek. You smiled shyly up at him, unable to play it cool this time.

He looked a little rosy in the face too, unsure as he smiled. “I had a lovely time tonight.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “Can I take you out next time?” You surprised yourself by the offer, that kiss must have shot some confidence into you.

He looked surprised too, but into it, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked down at you. “Where do you suggest?”

“My place?” Okay, so it wasn’t ‘taking him out’ but you liked the idea best. Soojung could stay over Tae’s. She owed you one. “I can cook for you,” you offered, a hand unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jacket, straightening it for him. “To you know, return the favour of you paying for dinner to say sorry for paying for my car to get fixed.”

His hand clasped around yours, dropping it between your bodies to hold it as he chuckled.

“This is getting a little confusing now.” He swung your hand gently and you curled your little finger around his loosely. You could get used to this physical contact. It felt ordinary, like you’d been doing it forever. “Can’t we just call it dating and have done?”

You rolled your shoulders with a sigh, sounding casual and unbothered. “I guess, if it’s easier.”

Seokjin’s laugh got lower, his face closer. His eyes kept looking between your eyes and lips, and you realised your heart was beginning to beat slower, or was it faster? You couldn’t tell anymore, but you could hear it pounding lightly inside your ears. You were in the middle of playing the same game – eyes then lips, eyes then lips – the seconds feeling more like minutes as he leant in closer and closer, but then –

You spotted Soojung in the window as you happened to glance behind Seokjin’s shoulder. She had now totally bypassed the voile curtain, thinking she was Miss. Inconspicuous with the lights off. The street lighting was as bright as anything though, and all you could see was her face glowing like a ghost as she ruined the moment entirely. You were not having your first kiss with Seokjin in front of her prying eyes.

Seokjin realised your attention was elsewhere now, awkwardly pulling back to scratch his neck with his free hand. You clutched at the hand that was holding yours, not wanting him to think you’d blown him off. He didn’t say anything though, just continued your conversation with a bemused smile. “Um, so what are you going to cook?”

“What do you like?” You asked, only half your attention on him. Maybe you could silently signal to Soojung, tell her to get the hell out of the window before Seokjin noticed.

“I’m easy,” you heard him reply. “What’s your speciality?”

“Uh…” Think Y/N, think. Distracted you said the first thing that popped into your head, still trying to force Soojung away with just your eyeballs. “Lasagne.”

“Lasagne?” He sounded interested.

You finally met his eyes for more than five seconds, feeling a little panicky. “Yeah, my World Famous Italian lasagne.”

Oh no.

Seokjin laughed, dropping your hand to cup your cheek instead. Earlier, if this had happened you would have spontaneously combusted but now you had a case of the Nosey Friend and you couldn’t concentrate to save your life. “Okay, now you’re just talking big.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes attempting to dart past his shoulder again. He noticed – he’d probably noticed this entire time, an eyebrow of his raising. “What is going on over my shoulder?”

You tried to stop him, clinging to his elbow, but he turned around anyway, eyes falling on Soojung immediately. You saw her instantly panic and jump back, dropping the curtain in front of the window again. “That’s just Soojung,” you sighed. “Ignore her, she’s an idiot.”

Seokjin was deeply amused, laughing as he turned back to you. “So, is next Saturday okay?” You pressed.

He grinned. “Saturday sounds perfect to me.”

As you said your goodbyes, Seokjin turned to the window and gave a small wave, chortling to himself. You couldn’t see Soojung anymore but you just knew she was still spying. But relieved Seokjin didn’t seem fazed, you made your way inside, giving Seokjin a wave by the door as he pulled off, feeling happy, yet a little sad the night was over already. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d enjoyed yourself like that.

It was only when you were inside did you remember what you’d just done, too preoccupied to think properly beforehand. Oh God, the lasagne. Saturday night was going to be a disaster.

Soojung came running into the entry way, interrupting your freak out. “He saw me! He saw me!” Her voice was shrill, and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed or excited.

“That’s what happens when you spy, idiot,” you swiped, kicking off your heels. The instant relief brought you no comfort. “Soo, I’ve done something stupid.” You admitted.

She instantly looked worried. “What? What have you done?”

You sighed, already feeling like a fool. “Okay so, I invited him over next weekend and said I’d cook for him.”

“Girl is horny for that D–”

“Shut up, that’s not the problem,” you stopped her. She looked puzzled. “You were distracting me!” It was all her fault. You weren’t taking the blame. “He asked me what I was gonna cook and I told him I make a World Famous Italian lasagne!”

Your best friend was silent for an extended second, making sense of your words before she burst out laughing. Highly dramatic, practically doubled over, splitting her sides. Even more dramatic than you for freaking out over a damn lasagne.

“You have never made lasagne in your entire life!” She exclaimed. “What were you thinking?”

“It was your fault!” It was also her fault you didn’t get to kiss Seokjin properly too. But you weren’t going to bring that up now, unable to bear the constant teasing that would ensue.

“My fault?!” She laughed. You just rolled your eyes. She did not appreciate that at all. “Whatever. I can’t wait to see your “World Famous Italian lasagne.” Make sure to save me some, won’t you?”

“Right,” you huffed. “For that, I’m not telling you how the date went.”

She soon changed her tune, needing all the details just to be able to sleep tonight…

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#jin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

1K notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 141

141

Keith was tucked up in bed, saline IV drip in his arm. Lance had been jerking them off when Keith threw up across him. Orgasm, puke, panicked Keith. Moment ruined. Getting Keith up, showered, the bedding stripped and changed, his boyfriend was finally asleep. So much for coming back with a level head... Matt wasn’t Keith sitting ever again. Still, he was kind of cute when he was sleeping and sprouting nonsense. It wasn’t even funny nonsense. Their twins had been upgraded to cupcakes... so that was kind of funny, but Keith obviously not his limits both alcohol wise and mentally.

Heading into the living room, Rieva was back. He really wished they use the front door rather than balcony hoping

“How’s yours?”

“Had to put an IV line. Yours?”

“Tequila hit and he’d acquainting himself with the toilet”

“Did Matt say much?”

“Only that Keith was pretty much babbling by the third shot and obliterated by the 5th shot...”

“Surprised he made it that long... Am I... I did this, didn’t I?”

“Matt did. He wasn’t supposed to take Keith drinking while Keith was upset”

“Keith was upset because of me”

They’d got a lot done with Keith and Matt gone. He’d drafted his will, two copies, one in case Keith didn’t come back, which was now shredded, the other Rieva acted as his witness for. He didn’t have much, but if something happened he wanted Keith and the twins to be provided for. Everything but the coffee machine left to his boyfriend, which went to Pidge as a joke. Keith would decide how to split his assets and if there was something in particular their two best friends wanted Lance was confident Keith would let them take it. Shiro and Curtis to raise their twins if something happened. He hadn’t told Keith, because Keith didn’t want to think about things going wrong. He had a copy of his mother’s will, she’d tried to leave him things but he knew his siblings would contest it. The one thing he knew Luis would want would be Mami’s wedding and engagement ring set, to pass on. He’d slipped it off her finger before they flew back to America, then slid it back on at the service. Even if Luis wanted it, it was where it belonged. Where their Papi had slid it into place all those decades ago.

“Keith was upset because you’ve barely had time to talk about anything properly. Matt did mention you may wish to avoid the hotel lounge. Keith got a bit vocal about your sex life”

Lance groaned. Drunk Keith was a slut. Matt should have known better

“He’s lucky he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning... He’s also lucky Coran sent me back with extra medical supplies. Grab an IV bag if Matt needs one”

Rieva shrugged a shoulder

“He can suffer. I expected more maturity”

“I don’t know... Pidge turns to alcohol to solve all her problems”

“Yes, well. I only popped over to see how you were handling Keith. I can smell vomit in the air”

“Puked all over me. Gotta admit, as gross as it was, it was nice to not be the one throwing up all the time”

Not that Lance wanted to see Keith throwing up. He was pissed at Matt for letting Keith get into this state. Rieva was lucky he could see her and only smell Matt. His ego wanted to punch their friend in the face. Rieva screwed her nose up at his words

“At least mine made it to the bathroom. My plans for a swim are cancelled. Shall I pick you up something for dinner?”

“Yeah. That’d actually be great. Keith’s going to need food to soak up all the alcohol in his system. He still smells like a walking tequila bottle”

“He’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Alright, I’ll pop back soon. You should try rest too. You’re looking a little washed out”

“Try washing Keith when he’s crying, apologising, and groping me all at the same time”

“Nope. That’s a hard pass. I really am sorry for Matt’s actions”

“It’s fine. I totally owe you for today, so I’ll call it even”

“On the plus side, Coran’s fitting the drinks bill...”

He didn’t see that as a plus side. He’d have to pay something towards the room tab before they checked out. The rooms were something like $350 a night and he’d already been there twoish months... or was it three? He didn’t quite know where Keith got three months from. Maybe drunk Keith would tell him?

“... anyway, I’ll see you soon!”

Rieva was back out the window and across the next balcony before Lance could sigh. They were going to get busted for it. All it’d take was someone looking up and opening their big mouths over it. Just another reason why supernaturals shouldn’t be mixing with humans.

Heading back to Keith, his boyfriend was still in the same position Lance had left him in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his hand on Keith’s hair, letting the soft locks flop over his fingers. He didn’t know what Keith was thinking. Him taking the bite? What kind of crap was that? Keith would probably die before turning. If he turned, he’d have none of the benefits that came with turning young. He was trying to sign up for a life he knew wasn’t as glamorous as Hollywood made believe. He wasn’t going to take Keith’s warmth from him. He wasn’t going to curse him to their weird life. He loved his breathing happy human boyfriend. The feel of his strong heartbeat. The softness of Keith’s warmth as if cocooned around him. His scent. His smile. His ability to function without coffee. Humans were fragile, but he wouldn’t let Keith take the bite. One lifetime with Human Keith was as good as a million with vampire Keith who risked insanity and the troubles of ego. The constant risk of blood borne infection. Their egos might not even get along. Keith’s might outright reject the parts of him he’d liked as a human, and Lance might never recover from the guilt he knew would come if he turned him.

Stroking Keith’s hair, he wished they’d stay like this. Together. He shouldn’t have kept things from Keith, but Keith severely miscalculated how low Lance was. He’d barely started recovering when Mami passed. Yeah, he knew Keith hadn’t had a fun time, but... yeah. He’d fucked things up. The pat on the head and the reassurance he craved came from Rieva. She’d gone to get herself a glass of water from the kitchenette, seeing all the injections and stuff Coran had him taking on top of fresh blood, that he now definitely assumed had been cut off thanks to Keith coming, though feeding from Keith was dangerous. A full feed would leave him weak, his body not able to keep up with his desires to feed Lance as much as he needed. He supposed vampires would simply call in pets to entertain other breeders, that wasn’t what he wanted at all. Love was worth more than blood. Could a human not love a vampire? Or was Keith struggling with the idea of mortality?

Then there was what he’d said. Marriage. Um. Lance wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t feel he had to be married to be with Keith. It went against his romantic heart, but he also didn’t want an engagement ring out of duty. Things like marriage should wait. They hadn’t been together a year, rushing to sign up for the rest of their lives without ironing out the teething problems asked for trouble. Werewolves were different with their concept of marriage. Vampires different again. Vampires generally didn’t marry humans. Humans were generally only ever pets. Keith was not his pet. Did Keith not see them as partners? Did he really see Lance as out of reach permanently if he didn’t take the bite? He hated the thought. The thought he’d drifted so far away from being human in his boyfriend’s eyes. Why couldn’t what they’d had and would have be enough?

Falling asleep against Keith, Rieva woke him gently. Matt hanging back, looking like shit

“I’ve brought dinner up if you’d like to join us”

It was food time already? His nap schedule ruined, and his body making it’s dislike known. He’d barely had anything to drink either. One day back with Keith and he acting like a kid

“Yeah... smells good”

“Chicken and rice. Extra for Keith”

“Thanks. I’ll give you the money...”

“We already decided we’re even. I know I told you to nap, yet, I can’t say you seem too rested”

“I got too caught up in taking care of him that I might have forgotten to eat”

Rieva took him by the arm, pulling Lance off Keith who whined in his sleep, patting around for him. Leaning back, Lance kissed Keith’s cheek, his boyfriend’s breath hideous, but trying to brush Keith’s teeth didn’t exactly work when his boyfriend wanted to suck on the toothbrush

“Babe, you awake?”

“Ngggh...”

Nope. He needed sleep. The more sleep the better. He was going to be hung over as fuck

“You just sleep. I’ll be back soon”

“Unmg”

“I know. You regret your life choices. It’s okay, just sleep it off”

“Mhndssf”

“I love you, too”

The three of them left Keith sleeping, Matt throwing himself down on the sofa with such force Lance was worried it was about to break

“I’m amazed you speak drunken Keith. He stopped making sense to me”

Lance shook his head

“Thanks for that. I don’t, and I don’t appreciate you getting him drunk”

“Trust me, dude. No more tequila for him. no mas tequila”

Matt’s Spanish was like nails on a chalk board, making him cringe. He’d even thrown in a very bad Spanish accent trying to sell the three words

“Did he try hitting on you? He’s a slut when he’s drunk”

“No. That would have been easier to deal with. It was all “I love Lance!”. “Lance likes it when I hold hips down and fuck him!”. “Lance is perfection!”. “Lance is life!”. I want my cupcakes!””

Lance groaned. He’d never be able to face any of the hotel staff again

“You shouldn’t have taken him drinking...”

“I know! He just seemed like he needed to let loose”

There was any number of things Matt could have taken Keith off and done...

“Then take him for Karaoke. Give him like two shots and he’ll get up there... Do you have any idea what he’s been saying?”

“That he’s serious about being with you?”

“That the wants to be bitten”

“Ah. He’ll get over that”

Matt waved it off dismissively

“That doesn’t seem like something he’ll just get over, Matt”

Not when Keith had this idea of forever being unnaturally long

“He had something like 8 shots. He won’t remember”

“That’s beside the point because I remember. Couldn’t you have picked something else to talk about?”

“Trust me, I tried”

Rieva interrupted the pair of them

“Aaaaaanyway, Lance, you need to eat. One full blood bag and your food”

“I will”

“You’ll do it now or you’ll forget”

“I don’t forget. It’d be so much easier if I did”

“I don’t care for your excuses, eat, now”

He wasn’t trying to make excuses. He’d come out to eat with his... pack. He was just trying to learn about what Keith had said while drunk. Not putting off eating. This was why he had a hard time accepting the help of his friends because, despite wanting the best for him, he now felt slightly smothered.

Thanks to the feeling of being smothered, Lance was distant through dinner. Before he knew what happened he found his plate emptied. Matt and Rieva also having finished eating, with Matt looking too well after the greasy chicken

“If you’re going to puke, please try to make it to the bathroom”

The scent of Keith’s vomit was bad enough. He didn’t need Matt puking, he was liable to start vomiting at any moment as it was. The chicken looked good, tasted good, but the amount of oil coupled with the scent was definitely not good.

Matt nodded, chicken bone still his mouth

“I think I’m going to eat and run before you start sucking down that blood”

“Matthew!”

Matt shrugged

“He said to go if I’m feeling sick, I’m feeling sick, take care of meeee”

Eh. Close enough. He had Keith to nurse as it was

“I’m sorry, Lance. Matt’s banned from drinking until we get home”

Good luck with that one. Matt not drinking was like Keith not having coffee. If he wanted to drink, he would. That was just how Matt was

“What? Babe. Nooooo”

“You should have thought about that before you ruined our plans. You reap what you sow”

“Lance, please tell me we’re on the first plane out of here tomorrow”

He got it. He was interrupting their lives. Yep. He knew it. Rieva and Matt should be back in America. He’d lasted long enough on his own. He could manage

“You guys can go if you really want to, but I want to spend some more time here”

Rieva elbowed Matt

“Lance, we’re not leaving until you are ready”

Open wound. Pour in salt. Bam. Same feeling as what he felt at Rieva mothering him

“I’ll think about it some more. Thanks for the help earlier. It felt good to get things organised”

“You’re very welcome. Don’t stay up too late”

That meant no walk along the beach alone at night. Too bad for Rieva that he was going to. Lance supposed it was a bit weird, but to him it was like a treat for making it through the day. He could walk the beach, swim if he felt like it, breathe in the salt air and just let go

“Alright. Off you both go. I’ll take care of the clean up”

He’d said alright. Not that he’d promised to. It’d been far too long since he’d been swimming and he’d always loved the water. Going home meant returning to dry inland heat and not a pool in sight. Why couldn’t people just trust him to make the choices that made him happy and his head less busy? No one bothered him. He bothered no one. He always dressed warmly enough... He’d wake Keith up and let him know before he went. No one could be mad at him for that. This was why he’d been keeping so much to himself. Because he knew his mental health was being a little shit and his ego a flaring arsehole. He’d asked for time, not for love to be shoved down his throat at the first possible instance until it choked him.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

6 notes · View notes

mammon-sama · 4 years

Text

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms. This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr. If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here. I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title:

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary:

No summary, really. Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC and being dumb. Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel. Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note:

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox. As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day. As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC: You called?

MC: What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon: MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon: I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC: Important things? Like what?

Mammon: WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion. Paid? Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash. It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this. You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away. You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away. As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think. The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around. “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you. “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod.

You cock your head curiously. The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty. “Is something wrong?”

He looks down and shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you. “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry. “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.” He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him. By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen. What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look. He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash. Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor. You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that. Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel. It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes. “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path. “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side. “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence. Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen. You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses. Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door. You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that. Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is …

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform. You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon: HUH? How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon: Getting paid means I’m going shopping! And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon: Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon: Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon: I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh. Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook. “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands. “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look. No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet. “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go. Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear. “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.” He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up. “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC! You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content. That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping. “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours. “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag. “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on. “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through.

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more. “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too! It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive. The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that. It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!”

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.”

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.”

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers.

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door. Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said. You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls.

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer. You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars. “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?” You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods. “Go for it.”

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game. “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know? He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother. “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss. “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym.

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders. Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you. “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously. “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head. “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him. “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top. You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through. “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier. The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too. You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans. “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic. “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.” Beel takes a deep breath. Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical. After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook. He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front. Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it. Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder. “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical. He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses. “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize. “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs. “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.” He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead. “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too. Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up. “Really, MC? You’d do that?”

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement. “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack. You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him. “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat. “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.” He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head. “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen. “I haven’t eaten many human foods before. Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.

“Haha,” he laughs. “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”

You smile and turn to the following page. The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday. Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

“Those look good.” Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow. Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse. “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head. “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning. “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy. You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you. You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother. “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him. Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time. To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap. He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘.

“Yes, you should!” Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way? This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!” He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger. “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?” He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles. “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo! And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.” He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo. “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown. “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you. “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.” Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen. “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly. “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes. You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC! Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah? Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me. I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited. “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips. He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook. “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides. He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher. “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross. Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes. “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures. He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese. He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC? I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen. He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan. “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?” You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go? Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book. He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto. Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes. He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these. They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time.

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto. “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar. One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by. “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red. “Asmo!” He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen. “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you. “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.” He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him. “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink. “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal. “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes. He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to. He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them. Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.”

THE END

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date mammon #obey me shall we date beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date beelzebub #obey me beel #fluff #humor #brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #adverbslut_writes

48 notes · View notes

agentwallflower · 3 years

Text

Supernova 16

Bad news, I didn’t get any writing done!

Good news, I’m halfway through 16! Let the good times keep rolling... until I run out. Then I’m in trouble.

Anyway, life sucks. I am a bad caregiver and an even worse student of the arts. All I want to do is sleep, but there are pants that need washing and cans that need cleaning. Please let me sleep...

Good news though, I finished editing my other novel. Now it’s time to let my readers read it to tell me what I did wrong and the countless things that need fixing. Can’t you tell I’m thrilled?

...

Right. Anyway, next chapter goes up February 6. I’m going to go sit down until I have to get dinner ready. Then I gotta get laundry ready... and then I can do my homework. This is why I don’t want kids.

Thanks for reading, see you in two weeks!

“I already told you, you're not getting my damn helmet off.”

“But you might have-”

“If a psychic doesn't know their own brain, we got bigger problems. It’s staying on.”

It was bad enough that they'd made him take his damn clothes off. Angel had done his best, but cracked ribs were cracked ribs that needed x-rays. Among other things, that had meant shrugging out of his binder. It had been made easier by the fact the damn thing ripped in two when he tried to shuffle it off.

Guess he'd need another one... good thing he had all that overtime from working with Andy.

“I'll come in with the form stating you turned down an MRI.” there was a chill to the tech’s – nurse? Fuck if he knew right then – voice as they turned to leave the room. “Don't try to move, we still need to suture your wounds.”

Yeah, he had a lovely case of road rash that was going to need some serious antibiotic lotion, and his back was kind of fucked up. He had seen it in the mirror – looked kind of burned to him. No doubt it was going to leave some kind of nasty scar when it finished healing. Oh well, it was where nobody would see it.

Unlike his old facial ones. Pro-tip for young heroes: wear a mask before learning to fly. Birds are nasty.

“God, it's good to hear you snark at somebody.”

A comfortingly annoying voice buzzed in his ear. Scanner's link was open still, had been when the nurse had come in with the crazy idea of getting his helmet off. They had been going over the footage while waiting to hear about Ember and PT. From the sounds of things, everyone was going to make a full recovery. That was the important part, though if it took too long they might need outside help.

God, he hoped it wasn’t going to come to that. The Toledo Union was asshole city, and don't even get him started on Pittsburgh... he may not have liked football, but tossing them a 'go birds' just to make them froth at the mouth was worth it.

“Good to be able to do it.” He adjusted his helmet. “So, what's the damage?”

Keys clicked in his ear. “PT's got a nasty concussion, but that's nothing new for her. Don't know if she'll make it to the synagogue this weekend, but I think her rabbi will understand. Ember's completely lucid, so whatever Blasto did to her wore off. They're still doing a brain scan anyway, though. Apparently, they can do those with disguises on now.”

There was a note of teasing to the tech's voice that made Angel roll his eyes as he leaned back in the hospital bed, waiting for someone to tell him when he could go the fuck home. No doubt the attack was all over the news now, even at the late hour. How could it not, when one of their own had turned on them and nearly gotten half the city killed?

Maybe that was why he hadn't pulled his punches with that rock. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. A cloth one's a little different from my setup.” He sighed in relief at the report. “Well, that means we'll only be down two. I'm no HR expert, but I think Richter's fired.”

He should've been on fire, but that was a different matter entirely. Oh well, once Ember and PT were better, they could handle that. He hadn't been around much anyway, so him going to jail for being an asshole – and you know, threatening to kill a bunch of people and almost getting away with it – didn't cramp their style too badly.

At least the overtime would pay for his GRE scores. He really needed to get his math percentile up if he wanted a shot at grad school.

“That's putting it mildly.” Scanner's tone shifted. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but they sounded softer the next time they spoke. “By the way, I appreciated the jerk ex comment but let's keep it on the DL around Andy. She doesn't need to know.”

Angel nodded – oww, big mistake. He might not have a concussion, but the overuse of his powers had given him one hell of a headache. That was enough to make him close his eyes as he bumped the back of his dirty helmet against the bed frame.

“Mum's the word, Scan.” He frowned. “Where is she anyway?”

There was a pause in the typing. Scanner didn't say anything for a good couple minutes, causing Angel's blood to run cold. Despite his pounding headache and the sudden urge to throw up, he sat straight up in his temporary bed.

“Scanner, where is Andy?”

“Paladin's got her in one of those rooms they use to tell people their grandma didn't make it. The FBI's en route now to pick her up.”

His feet hit the floor – oww. “Damn it, Scan, give me a location. We can't let them get her!”

Images flashed through his mind, stolen from the psychic he had thrown down with days prior. His imagination ran wild with it, showing off steel tables and knives sharp enough to cut through rocky surfaces. It made his stomach churn as his battered brain tried to come up with a way out.

“I'm two blocks from the hospital now. Paladin asked me to bring the book.”

Angel stopped moving. Time stopped too. The only thing that convinced him that the universe was still spinning was that his heart was beating. He was alive, but right then the only thing he could focus on was the thought of the book.

“You're serious?”

“Sounds like it's our only option. She's on the third floor and we need a witness so get there ASAP.”

ASAP was a little hard when he was under observation, but Angel didn't care. He made a grab for his pants, head spinning as he pulled them on over his hospital gown. At least he wasn't attached to an IV as he booked it out of the room, a nurse yelling in the background.

If Scanner was bringing the Book, it was as serious as he thought.

---

Though it was her first time in the hospital, Andy already knew she didn't like them very much.

“You've caused quite a stir on Twitter. People already like you.”

Uncle Leo was in the chair next to her, absent-mindedly scrolling his phone. The case was covered in pictures of his family – a present for his last birthday. With his brain he didn't need it, but it wasn't like they had ever really covered how much they knew about his pre-cancer days. It had never really been her business to question what they knew about him anyway.

Normally, Andy would have been dying to get a glance at the internet, especially if nobody was going to be monitoring her. But she stayed there in her chair, flexing her fists back and forth. She could still feel the power radiating from her core, making the air shimmer. At least she wasn't giving off heat, though – that might've made the old man uncomfortable.

She had done it.

“Mom's not coming, is she?”

Honestly, the alien wasn't sure why she was even asking. Once her mother made up her mind, she didn't change it. Their final words had probably been just that, especially after Twitter had gotten a hold of it. If the internet knew about her, that probably broke just about every rule they had set for her from the time she had first emerged.

Leo's eyebrows knitted as he put his phone aside. His warm hand found hers, squeezing gently more so he didn't break anything. For humans, that was probably a comforting gesture. Thanks to the lack of skin, it didn't really do much for her, but it was the thought that counted in the end.

“I tried to call her... she hung up on me.” He frowned. “I'm sorry, but I think she meant it.”

How was she supposed to feel during a moment like this?

“Andy?”

She supposed she should have been upset really. After all, her mother had finally broken and abandoned her like she had always threatened to when things got difficult. In a way, it was amazing she had stuck it out for almost 21 years. Had she had money to put on it, Andy would've bet after the divorce for sure. In a way, she was surprised she had lasted so long. Could you congratulate a parent for not giving up on you until you were over 20?

So… maybe she wasn’t all that upset when it came to her case. Really, she was worried about the ones she had left behind. After all, Amanda was going to take it out on someone eventually. Her oldest sister was the prime target for sure, but Jen was still just a few doors down. That thought made her core bubble up as she sat there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t that either, though…

Despite everything... Andy had to admit her biggest feeling was that of relief. Threats of turning her over to the lab – or worse – for bad behavior no longer hung over her head. If Amanda was washing her hands of her, then in a way she was free. Of course, that kind of made her property of the federal government... but that wasn't the first time either. Now that she was bigger, maybe she could go toe to toe with them if they tried anything funny.

Or hell, they might just turn her over to Sakamoto. She could handle her.

“Are you alright?”

Uncle Leo's words brought Andy back down to earth. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but the man looked concerned. She shook her head, more for his benefit than her own, and shrugged her spiky shoulders in the universal sign of 'beats the hell out of me' before sitting back.

“I mean... everyone's ok, right?” She shrugged again, as if it would tease more emotions out of her molten core. “And I managed to get two shots off. I guess I can be happy about that?”

The psychic nodded. “But you're worried. I can't say I blame you. You did the right thing... though the FBI might disagree.”

Had she been human, this was where Andy would have snorted. “That's putting it mildly. I bet they’re on their way to get the custody pissing match started.”

With her... she supposed ex-mother? Out of the way, that left the feds and the lab. Talk about ugly – she would've winced at the thought if she was capable of doing it. While they whipped it out and measured, she was left in limbo. Luckily for her, that was nothing new either. Being an alien made her all kinds of flexible.

Bear Paw or... wherever the FBI wanted to keep her. She had so many lovely options.

“About that...” There was a light in the man's eyes. “You know, you did a good job out there. A little rough, but... you have promise. And we're down a man now that Richter is going to be doing hard time.”

Andy's head picked up. “Wait... you're not serious, are you?”

Leo smiled, and for a brief moment she saw someone who had long since retired to old newsreels and still pictures archived in the annals of history. It made her sit up a little straighter in her seat as her core began to bubble with what could only have been anticipation.

“We both know it was going to come down to this eventually, Andromeda.” Another smile. He never used her full name. “You're too much like Cassiopeia, including hating when I use your entire name.”

Her core bubbled again. “Can you even do that? I mean... I'm not human. Isn’t that the basic requirement of joining up?”

“It wasn't when we had Nova. Besides, who’s going to know if we don’t tell them?”

Right... she forgot sometimes about that sometimes. If Nova had hidden it… maybe she could too.

Before Andy could answer, someone knocked on the door. Leo stood to cross the room and opened it without a sound. On the other side stood Scanner, breathing hard as if they had wheeled at top speeds to get there. In their lap was a large book, bound in dark leather that gave it the feel of an ancient tome. This they handed off to her quasi uncle as they wheeled to the side, finally putting on the breaks.

“We better hurry, I blocked the elevator on some assholes in suits as I got up here.” They looked towards the window. “Is that SR?”

The psychic appeared as well, still wearing a hospital gown and motorcycle helmet. He slid in behind Scanner – at least he was wearing pants under his gown. At least he nodded to the room as he made no excuses for his weird attire.

“I'm with Scan, they're gonna be on my ass for breaking out soon.”

Leo shook his head, but he was smiling. “Not exactly what I expected for the two witnesses, but you're right. Time is of the essence. Even Scanner cannot stop an elevator forever.”

Andy felt the air in the room shift as the attention turned to her. This was probably where humans would have swallowed past anxiety or felt their hearts pound in anticipation. All she had was the bubbling of her core as she stood, dwarfing the room.

Her uncle was wrong, of course. She had never expected this day to come, not even in her wildest dreams or in the faded time before she was truly conscious of her situation. Yet the fact it was actually there still pressed down heavily as the man approached her, book in hand.

She had seen it once when she was a small child, though she forgot the circumstances of the visit that had caused it. It was a heavy looking book, bound with the Union's logo. Normally, it was kept at the base, given what was written inside.

After all... you kinda needed to keep the record of secret identities, well, a secret. It was probably the only book she could think of that didn’t have a digital copy. Sometimes, it was good to be analog.

And now it was her time to join them.

“Andromeda Nobel.” The old man’s voice had more energy in it than she had heard since his diagnosis. He held out the book and walked to an empty space in the room. She met him halfway, placing her hand on the cover like she had seen others do on TV. Maybe if they hadn't been rushing to beat the FBI, they would've done it too. Oh well, she had started this at 3 AM so maybe it was apt. “Do you swear to protect the people of Bear Paw?”

“I do.”

Outside, she could hear the elevator dinging. The agents were coming – they had a lock on the room. The door rattled violently, but Sky Rider's visor glowed as he held it firm. Someone was pounding on the wood now.

Leo remained unflapped. “Do you swear to use your powers for good and never evil?”

The words came from her mouth without thinking. “I do.”

“And no matter what, do you promise to uphold the ideals of heroism, bravery, and service both in and out of your secret identity?”

Andy didn't even need to think of this one. She nodded, almost knocking her chin to her chest. “I do.”

The rattling was getting stronger now. Sweat was starting to drip from under Sky Rider's helmet as he held the lock as hard as he could. Even Scanner was gearing up now, a glowing drone appearing to reinforce the fragile joints that kept the door to the wall. Both of them were giving it their all, even though one of them was still technically a patient.

Clearly, doing dumb shit was a point of pride here. If that wasn’t a sign she’d fit in, Andy didn’t know what was.

Leo's voice was stronger now. “Then, given the current leader is going through a medical workup, I use my power as the retired head of the Bear Paw Union to officially swear you in. You will now take up the mask and title to protect the city...”

His voice faltered. “We can add the superhero name later, unless you figured one out on the way over.”

Got one? Of course she had one. Andy had held it ever since she had first felt the power in her hands. Maybe it was a little cliché, but it felt right to her as she nodded towards the old man. She removed her hand, clenching her fist as she did.

“Call me Supernova.”

After all, she was Nova's kid in a roundabout way. If anyone got to mess with the title, she had the right.

“Supernova, eh? Never expected you to be one for a succession title, but I can't say it doesn't fit.” He smiled, and there was something wistful there as he nodded. “Then, welcome to the Union, Supernova. Serve it well.”

The door slammed open and Sky Rider was knocked on his ass as two agents in dark suits appeared in the room. As the psychic on the floor groaned at his bruised ass and ego combo, they entered, gunning for her.

Well… apparently it was time to test if the Union’s rule about active duty kept her from getting taken in. Talk about having one hell of a proving ground.

---

Want to support my snack pile so I get through art class alive? I have a Ko-Fi!

#writing #novel #Why yes I am incredibly depressed

1 note · View note

kuriquinn · 5 years

Text

The Job Offer [part 2]

General Disclaimer

Rating: PG 13

Author’s Note: I was planning to do all random one-shots that weren’t connected to anything. But this was the only thing I could think of writing when I saw the prompt was “medicine”. So...here’s the next part of that mafia fic I started like two years ago. If you want to read the first part, you can find it here.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“So, I hear you’re refusing your medication unless I give it to you,” Sakura says as she enters the private room without preamble, two IV bags in hand. “Care to share why? And it better not be some macho, stoic bullshit.”

She should probably be a little more polite, but she’s way beyond sleep deprived at this point.

Uchiha Sasuke is propped up in his bed, glaring at her. His chest is a swath of thick bandages, turning what she has learned is a stunning physic into a comically shapeless square. They are incongruent with the vibrant colours of sleeve tattoos that depict snakes winding up either arm against a black background with red clouds. She knows there’s something on his back, too, but she was a little too preoccupied with his life-saving surgery at the time to identify it; some kind of bird.

“Your people are refusing to allow my men in here. I can’t be sure I’m not being poisoned.”

“After the show they put on in the emergency room, they’re lucky they’re even allowed in the waiting room,” she grumbles and begins to set the bags into the apparatus. “Why do you trust me not to poison you? I mean, you’ve been a bit of a pain since I met you, so you’d totally deserve it…”

She chances a glance over at her patient, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in. She has a brief moment of being lost in endless black, and then he turns away with a noncommittal noise.

“You’ve already proven you have principles. Since a dozen Uchiha-gumi couldn’t make you waver, I doubt anything else could.”

He goes quiet, staring at the wall with a slight frown in his forehead, and long bangs framing his face rather fetchingly despite the fact he probably hasn’t had a chance to wash his hair in three days.

He is really, unfairly and ridiculously pretty.

Sakura swallows at that thought, hastily grabbing for his chart so he doesn’t catch her looking.

No! None of that! Bad idea! That is the worst idea. Just look at his arms, they tell you exactly why this is a bad idea!

“What are you giving me, anyhow?” he asks. “I don’t allow just anything in my body.”

“I’m trying not to find that ironic,” Sakura quips. “Anyhow, these are your next round of antibiotics and painkillers—and no, it’s not morphine, you already made it clear to my interns what you thought about that.”

“As I said.”

“Yeah, well, you could have been a little nicer about it. I think Dr. Ise is about to go to the administration and tender his resignation because of you. And they’re in enough of a tizzy already, they’d accept it.”

Uchiha watches her face, and something flashes in his gaze.

“You haven’t had any issues, have you?” he asks, frowning. “With regards to your employment?”

Sakura’s cheeks flame. “You mean since your boys were trying to intimidate Senju-sensei and the rest of the Board of Directors?”

“It would be remiss of them to suspend your privileges considering the situation.”

“Do you know how much of a problem their interference could be for me?!”

“Was it effective?”

“In this case…yes,” she admits grudgingly. He smirks at that, like he predicted this, and she clenches her fists. “But the Board’s going to make my life hell in other ways from now on! Constant reviews and check ins and…” She sighs, reigning in her temper. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’re making my life more complicated—”

“Complicated enough to leave?” he suggests, and there’s something too blank about his face just then.

Suspicion rears its head, along with a memory of the night they met.

“So what? Just come work for me.”

“I’m not quitting my job. I have responsibilities—"

“Take a sabbatical,” he suggests. “I’ve heard that’s common among the medical profession, either due to burnout or the desire to research areas of interest.”

“Not to go work for the mob!”

He doesn’t appear to hear her. “You doctors engage in research, right? Life-saving practices, new methods?”

“…Yes?”

“And that requires funding, if I understand it. Which is difficult to come by, considering you don’t exactly get paid much…”

Sakura narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“I consider it more of an investment.”

“No offense, but even if I were at the point in my career where I was trying to get funding for something, I’d rather not have the money attached to my name and methods be dirty. Especially not if I want to be taken seriously.”

“We maintain entirely legal businesses,” he dismisses. “My branch of the family has a thriving private security business, which has been very lucrative so far. Any funding you receive through us would be through legal channels and with clean funds.”

Sakura blinks, not entirely sure she’s understanding what she’s hearing.

“Why are you trying so hard to recruit me?”

“You have a good image.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. Then as if in opposition to what he just said, his gazes flicks up and down in a way that has her blushing and torn between wanting to cover up in a blanket or shrug out of her scrubs in front of him.

Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You are small and unassuming,” he continues. “No one would know to look at you that you’re anything more than that. And in addition to being able to fight, you have medical skills and respect discretion. In my experience, that is hard to come by without a lot of money being thrown around. And money doesn’t buy loyalty. You already have principles, so money wouldn’t be necessary. You’re a warrior and a healer. That’s valuable.”

“I…”

What the hell do I say to that?

“As it happens, I’m looking for another member of my security team. Suigetsu’s wife is having a baby soon, and she’s demanding. I don’t see him being able to maintain his commitments to my schedule for the next little while. You have no family connections or commitments to speak of, nor any time-consuming romantic relationships most women your age do.”

“How the— how do you know that?! Are you— did you have someone look into me?”

She’s entirely thrown off balance by this.

“My brother is very thorough. He and my parents wished to make sure of your credentials.” There aren’t many yakuza that the general populace are able to name off the top of their head, but Uchiha Itachi is one of them. If any of the stories about him are true… “You will likely meet him when I’m permitted to leave here.”

Sakura is only just able to hold back the choke of fear, but her patient notices, nonetheless.

“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he says, bored. “He already likes you, from what Suigetsu told him. Something amuses him about the fact you can—what’s the expression? ‘Get me to take my medicine’? Anyhow, he’ll have a formal offer of employment drawn up for you.”

He is looking at her with a superior look, as if to say, this hospital may be your kingdom, but I have my own domain.

That confidence is simultaneously terrifying and sexy in a way it shouldn’t be.

“You may have time to consider the proposition,” he tells her, indicating the door; a clear dismissal.

Sakura bristles a little at that, irritated. “And if I still decline?”

He shrugs. “Then you decline. I’m not about to have your fingers cut off because you’ve done something I don’t like.” His eyes rest on her hands, then flick up to her with something indecipherable in them. “That would be a waste.”

And then he smiles.

Sakura feels a surge of want slam into her and oh, whether she takes the job or not, this is not going to turn out well for her, is it?

栗

#sasusaku #ssm19 #ssm19day3 #prompt: medicine #kuriquinn #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #sakura pov #sfw #romance #drama #mafia #au

199 notes · View notes

dreamy-stars · 4 years

Text

7/30/20

i’ve never felt this low in a long time, not even in sophomore year of college?? it’s like rly concentrated sadness and rly hit hard within the last month?

- i went through my first breakup, which affected me a lot more than i thought it would. it was so short lived i don’t even want to call it a relationship. i hate to admit it but it hurt so much bc it seemed like he wanted to be with me for a while. he has his reasons and he should take care of himself but i can’t help but feel thrown away without care? i wanted closure and he couldn’t even give me that. my self confidence went down the drain, and i kept questioning if there was something i could have done differently. i even contemplated if i was pretty enough XD can you believe i let a 5’6 man make me feel like this...pathetic...but yeah he rly has no emotional intelligence or something man cmon i wanna talk it out.. - it took me a while to get over him and now i dont miss him specifically, i just miss being wanted and having that connection? anyway my confidence was bad at this point and was feeling insecure in so many ways. maybe 3-4 weeks ago i started going down this dark hole, just questioning my purpose here. i’m not smart, pretty, or talented in any field. i felt kind of useless? just there... (even typing this im like tearing up hehe) comparing myself to ppl again..how i’m not good enough (in eng) just kinda wasting my parents money? and i think about if i were prettier i’d prob be treated better and those around me would pay nore attention to me? brings me to my next point :p - i feel SO lonely. it doesnt help that i went through a break up and the person i was talking to all day every day is suddenly cut from my life. my friends can contact me and stuff but i feel so left out sometimes. it’s not their fault, it’s just how my brain is ig lol. it felt like i was back in high school. i had acquaintances and was surrounded by friends but couldnt rly connect and be close to ppl. what i remeber most was being at the booth and being surrounded by girl friends and not adding to the convo at all. i felt so lonely and insecure i never want to feel that again. recently i felt it with my cousins who i have always felt close to. can u believe? i can’t rly explain it. but when sp brought her friends to the lake i felt ostracized. its so stupid for ne to feel that way, they’re literally strangers and i wish we could be like white folks that introduce each other right at the start of meeting new ppl U KNOW?? idk i’m so fucking sensitive LOL. like at least mai did it with her bf. I Am Nothing. like sp didnt introduce tp so why am i feeling like this. i guess its just me and my deep rooted trauma of being overlooked and forgotten! even when we went to the lake with just our cousins i felt SOOO SOOOOOOOO down and lonely, even more than before. i was sticking near ap bc it was kinda awkward still and i didnt want her to be lonely. i was just floating around and they played games and talked together and stuff and i felt invisible i felt so lonely even with so many ppl i love there. it didn’t help that they had sleepovers and hung out together so ich and never asked me. they even planned to sleepover later that night and didnt ask me. i wonder if it was bc i was neutral and stuck with ap? oh yeah i forgot that i couldnt go eat with them bc there was no room for me which is understandable but i still felt shitty and i think i cried that night :p it’s small insignificant things that build up for me and make me feel like an afterthought. it rly fueled my self confidence issue. AGAIN no one did anything wrong i’ve just been very sensitive and analytical of everything lately. it’s kind of led me to being distant with sp kinda like im testing her and seeing if she would reach out to me at all? its petty but i feel like she hates me fr 😂 might just be me. I Am Nothing...

ANYWAY ive been crying like pretty often just having these thoughts eat me up. it’s better now i think? it’s scary to admit but i’ve thought about dying so many times recently and i hate it. almost like it’s normalized to me now. it’s not that i would ever attempt but i understand what ppl mean when they want to disappear? i’m very blessed with loving parents and a healthy able body and a good living situation. i never want to put my parents and family through something that traumatizing. i haven’t properly expressed these feelings to anyone besides one watered down text to darwin. it was hard to even type the text, i ended up crying in the bathroom. i’ll have bad days and the thoughts creep up on me and i try to distract myself by watching stuff and it helps. i’ve been working out and dieting and i feel a lot better about myself and more positive. i’ve thought about therapy seriously but im hesitant still. if i still have issues i will, but talking through a screen and the risk of others hearing kinda turns me off. just processing my feelings and thinking about them extensively has helped me a bit but i think having a professional tell me about my feelings will make me feel better. idk how to bring it up at all, and i feel like my issues arent serious enough? but my brain been going cwazy :3

i’ve been having a rough time at home just doing a lot of nothing but being sad and working out.. i hope with school starting soon i can get out the house and be productive again! recently ive been dealing with the problem of “living for others” i notice that i care about the comfort of others and how i can satisfy them and appeal to others at my expense.. i’ve been thinking about how im not good enough for this type of guy to like me LIKE WHO AMMM IIII WHY DO I CARE...WEIRDO..... maybe im dragging myself too hard i dont think i do this much but i do be a nice comfy doormat for others :)

but overall i feel better than a few weeks ago i think! idk what that was about why is my brain like this....making irrational thoughts and hurting my own feelings...idk but it will be okay :)

#diary

2 notes · View notes

devious-kat · 4 years

Text

I dunno. this *is* a blog, I might as well get this off my chest.

Alright.

In school, I was a theatre kid. I come from a small town; I know the names of all of my classmates. I hated sports, I was never any good at them. I’m not smart. But somehow, I can act. And I really enjoyed doing it. From the time I was in 4th grade until I graduated, I did every kind of theatre stuff my tiny public school offered. I went off to college and did some there too, until I lost my way and had to drop out.

When I came back after leaving college, I didn’t really know what to do with myself, besides work. But I stopped back at my old school to see how the theatre department was doing. The directors wound up asking me if I wanted to help them out. I would attend the after school practices and watch the students perform, and give notes. When it came time to do the yearly school musical, I helped then too. During rehearsals and then during performances backstage. I love theatre, so I loved being able to help and be involved.

Years passed, and both teachers running the theatre department were going to retire. They’d been teaching me things here and there about how to run the department - it’s an after school activity for us, so I didn’t need any kind of degree. It was a bit of a rocky road, but being able to finally coach - offically - was amazing. I really love watching the kids bond, being able to teach them all that I’ve learned. I love having freshmen join and being timid, and getting to introduce this world to them.

It hasn’t been easy - there are rules and restrictions of the school or the district I would have to follow. Hoops to jump through. Requirements. I did them all. Anything I had to do, I would. And more.

Part of how this all works, is a contract. Signing your name and saying you’ll abide by the student handbook, etc. This contract in particular, was yearly. So, every year, technically speaking, I was hired again. I would sign a new contract. On occasion, I’d have to interview. Formalities. Didn’t matter to me, I just loved the job and everything about it.

So this past January, it was time for a new contract, for the musical. (the musical director contract and the drama coach contract were separate, even if the department was all the same place) I waited.

Nothing.

So I contacted some people, to find out what was going on. No response.

Turns out, one my “friends” had been hired instead. This “friend” had just moved back from a different state, been around for a few months. Younger than me. Similar state of college education. She didn’t have to jump through a single hoop. No interview. Just hired. All the rules they insisted I follow strictly bent just for her.

Not much was said on the subject. “Once the contract is up, we’re under no obligations to talk to you about anything. You’re not our employee.” I fought. Well, I shared words with someone in charge. I knew I wasn’t going to change any minds, but I wanted them to know I was aware of what they’d done and how it wasn’t fair. They didn’t care. Not their problem.

I was hurt, but being hurt wasn’t going to help anything. At the time, I consoled myself by telling myself I was still the drama coach. I spoke to other members of the community, other teachers in the school, my fellow drama coach. Everyone felt sorry for me and was on my side. My co-drama coach assured me that she would fight if they tried to take me out as drama coach.

So September rolls around. Time for school to start. I’m unsure of the status of after school activities, with the state of the world. I do research. I keep up-to-date on the school’s plans for opening. I reach out to my fellow coach to make plans for rehearsals.

I hear nothing.

Until the other day, in keeping up with the school’s plans, I see that they’re going to be holding auditions in a few days. I realize what’s going on. So I reach out to the other coach again. “It’s out of my hands, but they’re not hiring you.”

oh.

I can easily admit to myself how stupid this is. trust me. “Big deal” I can hear you saying. and I get it. I sound like a child whining because I didn’t get the thing I wanted.

I’m an easy target. My heart bleeds constantly, I get emotional. I let things get to me. When you look at the logic, you can say a number of things as to why I should shut up. And I get that.

But let’s take a moment to look at the other stuff.

Because it’s the other stuff that GETS to me.

Like the 7 Y E A R S I spent just volunteering my time to assist the department. Because I wanted to. Because I love theatre. Then the 3 helping run it. Doing anything and everything to help.

I’m gonna take a moment and get emotional about this.

FUCK. YOU. FUCK YOU FOR JUST THROWING ME ASIDE LIKE EVERYTHING IVE EVER DONE MEANT NOTHING.

I AM SO GOD DAMN SICK AND TIRED OF BEING STEPPED ON.

I can admit that I, as a person, am meek. I let others lead, I don’t trouble the waters, I make myself small and try to never cause problems. A people pleaser. I apologize too much. what have you.

Thing is, I like to make others happy. I really, really do. It’s not just a thing to say to sound like a good person; I genuinely get a warmth and satisfaction knowing that by expressing care and positivity that I really feel, that isn’t just words thrown together, that someone feels a little better. maybe smiled. I *like* to help.

I go out of my way to do things for the people I care about. Drive hours away to get that thing they talked about and can’t find. Drop them off at the airport when they don’t have a ride. Sneak money into their bag because I can. Bring them medicine and soup and tissues when I know they’re sick. Bring them chocolate when they’ve had a bad day. Those kinds of things fall under the ‘making others happy’ thing. I will go above and beyond even at the expense of myself, just because I care. That’s not to brag, in some cases it’s been bad for me. Emotionally, or physically or financially. In the long run, bad for me mentally. Because the thing is, part of the reason I love doing these things? Is because if someone ever, EVER did any of those kinds of things for me, it would make me so happy. Beyond words. I would feel loved and cherished and cared about.

I wish I knew what it was like, to have someone care about me the way I care about others.

I wish I could say “yes, this is what I deserve in life.” is this what I deserve?

I live a life in service to others because I WANT to.

But does that mean I don’t deserve something good?

what the fuck does the universe want from me?

What other piece of me can I rip out and hand over?

I’m just so, so tired.

#life #this is long #if you read this whole dang thing thank you #I just can't do this anymore #me

1 note · View note

royaljeongin · 6 years

Text

back2u

back2u (one shot)

pairing : taeyong x reader

genre: fluff, rivals!au, (ish) enemies to lovers!au, fake dating!au

word count: 3k words

summary: “i’m always coming back 2 u.” or when taeyong, your enemy and you go through fake dating while trying to not cut each other’s head.

a/n: dramatic twist at the end, it’s been literally a year since ive written so this is rusty.

your heart beat when the teacher announced your name. you got up from your seat to take the corrected exam. you snatched it away from the teacher a bit harshly but you uttered a light sorry before you paid attention to your copy.

your heart dropped when you saw your grade and was worried you couldn’t come first this time. you went back to your seat and the brown-haired boy next to you eagerly asked for your grade.

that was lee taeyong.

from as long as you can remember, you guys were always ennemies. a series of events turned both of you from best friends to enemies and rivals. it was either you or taeyong who ranked 1st. and both of you despised the idea of getting 2nd. he was able to have every girl’s heart at the snap of his fingers (except yours) maybe because of his outrageously good looks or maybe because of his likeable personality. either way, you didn’t see where his hype was coming from.

“i got 99 percent,” you silently muttered trying to not make eye contact.

“haha loser, i got 99.5 percent!” he proudly said with his annoying smirk. you rolled your eyes.

“fuck off!”

“maybe next time, you will be able to beat me, my dear,” he boasted before someone interrupted him. it was again one of the girls.

it’s been weeks since she’s been trying to get closer to taeyong and has been constantly pestering him. you looked at him, his eyes didn’t have the same sparkle as before; clear annoyance showed all over his face.

you then observed her, she was pretty but her whole aura felt off as she was glaring at you for no reason. you usually gave her a ‘are you serious?’ look as you thought she could do better but today, you thought that they were perfect for each other. two assholes always make a good couple.

school ended and you were in the study room like most students. it was past nine now and you were copying your notes you took that day. you heard footsteps approaching and then, the presence of a boy and you looked up.

“what are you doing here?”

“i just want to discuss something,” he declared while taking out the chair beside him to be able to be next to you. “date me.”

you spat your water on him. you were too shocked. in normal situation, he would’ve yelled at you but he really wanted this so he kept his composure.

“asshole! not real, just fake dating is enough.”

“why would i accept?” you questioned.

he said that the girls that were chasing him were annoying and he had enough. he thought that perhaps, having a girl would make them back off and leave him alone.

“what do i gain from this?”

he smirked while crossing his arms and now comfortably seated with his legs crossed. his eyes had fire burning with confidence.

“money.”

you rolled your eyes. he knew you way too well and you hated to admit it, but money was your weakness. you don’t believe that it brings people happiness but you sure knew that many of your problems surrounded around that. it didn’t seem that bad, accepting money from probably the richest boy at your school seemed very appealing.

“come on, i know you are having difficulties right now. i’ll help you with that. i’m only asking you for one month.”

you looked at his trainers, a pair of white sneakers with classic roses embroidered followed by the green and red stripes from gucci. you bit your lips. you weren’t particularly jealous per say, nevertheless you were curious how life would be when you had all of the money of the world.

“you fix my money problems and you buy me shoes. deal?”

he nodded his head. spending a couple thousands dollars for something beneficial wasn’t bothering him.

“sure bye, i’m going home. i already finished studying unlike you.” he playfully stuck his tongue out as he was leaving the room.

you were woken up by the repetitive sound of an alarm. irritated, you quickly reached your phone that was on the nightstand next to you to turn it off. you blinked once or twice before checking the time.

you sighed. today, you were dreading to go to school because of that goddamn oral. even though you practiced more than necessary, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. speaking to a crowd was definitely not your forté.

you finished getting ready as you take out a toasted bread with peanut butter spread on top. you zipped up your coat and carried your backpack. when you got out of the building, the harsh air hit your face.

“you think you’re in some kind of anime?”

you easily recognized this voice.

“fuck off, why are you here stalker.” it was an understatement to say that you were irritated, you liked being left alone in the morning.

“picking my girlfriend up so that we can go to school together dumbass.”

“how do you know where i live?”

“i used to go here all the time come on.”

your heart ached a little bit. he used to be your best friend when you were kids. hell, he was even your first kiss, back in eight grade, but when the whole school knew you were apparently a bad kisser, you hated him ever since. it hurt to admit it, but the moment held a special moment and he was a really good kisser. you wouldn’t have asked for anyone else to be your first kiss.

shocked was an understatement when the majority of your grade saw both of you this morning entering school while holding hands. the rivalry you both had was so legendary that no one would have ever imagined that taeyong and you would be dating.

“so you guys are really a thing now?” asked joohyun, your friend.

you wondered if you should tell the truth but you confirmed that you guys were indeed a thing. joohyun clearly didn’t buy it but you couldn’t explain further as the bell rang. you bid your goodbyes and joined your respective classes.

the red-haired boy was saving you the seat besides him. he really was going for it. you felt obliged to join him. classes started. as you were taking notes, you felt a poke on your shoulder. taeyong was giving you a note.

‘meet me at the bleachers during lunch. -ty’

“people aren’t buying it that we are dating,” you implored trying to start a conversation. he has been looking at you for the past ten minutes and hasn’t yet said anything.

he grinned.

“what kind of stupid idea you have again?”

he finally started speaking. “well there’s a reason why i wanted you at the field’s bleachers. there are always a ton people. guys practicing and girls watching them and hoping that they would get noticed by those douche.”

“as if you aren’t one of those douche,” you muttered under your breath.

“did you say something?” you shook your head in denial. you did not want to argue with him today.

“let’s make it believable then. let me kiss you.”

your eyes widened. it was a sudden proposition and kissing wasn’t part of the whole fake dating scheme.

“are you sure you want to do this?” you asked awkwardly.

“i don’t care.”

you took a deep breath as you nodded your head. he was leaning in and your heart was pounding. you hoped that he wouldn’t hear it. you closed your eyes while the temperature of your cheeks was raising. then you felt it. the plump lips on yours. it sure felt good. he even got better than the first time. he then pulled away. he had a smirk on his face as he felt everyone’s gaze even though you did see a slight blush but maybe your imagination was going crazy.

it wasn’t uncommon to see taeyong make out with someone at a party but kiss someone on school grounds?

that was unthinkable. you heard from others that he always ended up breaking people’s heart because ‘he didn’t do relationships.’ every girl thought that maybe they would be the one to change his attitude but it was you. the last girl he could possibly end up with.

as two weeks passed have passed, taeyong and you spent a lot of times together. you always studied together. even though insults were still thrown at each other, it felt a more playful now. you also went on two dates so that he could take pictures and post pics of you both on his instagram. you were even his lockscreen now and vice versa.

taeyong was holding your drinks right now. he always had the orginial milk tea with grass jelly, 80% sugar with 50% ice and you also had the original milk tea but with tapioca bubbles, 50% sugar with 50% ice.

you both sat down and you started drinking your bubble tea.

“y/n?”

“hm?”

“why haven’t you had any boyfriend since like forever.”

“i could ask the same question for you.”

“just answer please.”

you quietly thought before answering.

“i think it’s because i am scared of love. you know? feelings are scary. plus, nobody has asked me out anyways. and you? why haven’t you gotten any serious girlfriends?”

“you would laugh your ass off because my answer is the same as yours. except, people always ask me out.”

“how does it feel to be needed? isn’t it special?”

“i guess it was nice at first but they don’t really need you, they like the idea of you or the things you have. that’s way i broke up with my ex. i heard her and her friends say that they liked my money so yeah i am scared of commitment.”

taeyong had an ex, they were seriously dating for 8 months during junior year. he definitely had his heart crushed to small pieces but he got over it with hookups, always no strings attached.

it was now the fourth week, you didn’t talk to him. to be frank, you have been avoiding him, avoiding his eye contacts, his phone calls and his texts. at first, taeyong was wondering why but then, it seemed like he didn’t care anymore. you did all of that because you may have realized that you had feelings for him for a very long time and you were terribly scared.

it was one of those sleepless nights where students studied their asses off, trying to cram as much knowledge as possible. you still studied with taeyong but he is a lot more productive than you so he finished earlier. he even proposed to wait for you so that he could walk you home. you insisted that you didn’t need to because you didn’t want to waste his time and you aren’t ready to confront your feelings yet. he didn’t push it so he left. 20 minutes later, you were finished revising your aesthetically pleasing rewritten notes. you packed your back and turned off the lamp on your study table.

you were on your phone while leaving the room. someone bumped onto your shoulder, almost making your phone almost fall off but you caught it at the right time. you let out a sorry and bowed.

“it’s fine.”

you looked up as the sound of his voice was familiar. it was jung yoonoh more commonly known as jaehyun. he was one of your childhood best friends along with taeyong. they were both still friends but jaehyun and you had drifted away because of different interests. it didn’t take a long time before the long conversations only turned into hi in the hallway.

“oh hi jaehyun!”

“hello! how have you been?” he said smiling.

“i have been doing good, my grades are still good.”

“come on, i don’t care about your studies, i wanted to know more about you and taeyong! it seems both of you haven’t killed each other yet.”

you shrugged.

“i guess he isn’t that annoying,” you mumbled.

“taeyong seems to be quite fond of you.”

your heart skipped a beat, it always did when someone said his name.

“i guess he’s starting to fall for you!” he winked. he probably knew about the whole fake dating trope. they would know each other’s secrets without needing to say it.

“don’t lie.”

“i am not y/n, the way he always looked at you. i really don’t know how you guys became enemies overnight.”

“i don’t know he is irritating! i hate everything about him.” you indeed hated his insanely good looks. you hated his sharp jawline when he turned his head to the side. you hated the eyebrow slit that suit him so much. you hated the small scar besides his eye that made him even more special. you hated the way he playfully smiled at you during classes. you hated his habit of ruffling your hair while you were studying. you hated when he genuinely laughed at your dumb jokes because it clenched your heart knowing that all of your interactions were put up for an act.

“sure jan.”

you quickly bid goodbyes and left. the night streets felt extremely lonely. your hands were shaking from the extreme cold. on your way home, you felt a presence behind you, but you were terrified of seeing who was behind you. you were probably overreacting -that’s what you told yourself- but your gut feeling felt like something wasn’t quite right in the atmosphere.

then, someone grabbed your arm and put a hand on your mouth. making you unable to scream for help. you kicked his leg, the person winced in pain and let go of you. you ran but he quickly caught up as you weren’t exactly usain bolt. something hit your head and everything was black.

you woke up attached to a chair, duct tape on your mouth. there was an old table with a clock in front of you. too far to reach it but close enough to read the time.

“12:54am”

you felt relieved as your parents wouldn’t be worried because both of them have night shifts. you looked around and found yourself in a dirty huge and abandoned warehouse. plenty of bodyguards were there. it felt so surreal, like a movie. rich people really do live in another universe. a middle-aged man got closer to you to remove the duct tape.

“it’s no use to scream, there is no one.”

panicked, you asked him what did he want.

“i want a part of your boyfriend’s money.”

“he is not my boyfriend. he won’t come.” you tried coming off as confident but your voice was shaking.

“oh, he will my dear. you woke up at the right time, five minutes ago, i sent him a picture of you all tied up on this chair. i threatened him with you in exchange i will get money. what he doesn’t know yet is that he might be killed and he’s threatening to kill me but what can this boy do.”

“who the fuck are you?”

“let’s just say his parents made me go bankrupt, thank god i had leftover money in the black market but they made me lose everything. so i planned a revenge!”

you felt your phone ringing in your coat’s pocket. the man pulled it out and made you look who was calling you.

my soft taeyong

your eyes widened. “let me talk to him, i beg you!”

he put the call on speaker. you were desperately trying to free yourself from that chair.

“are you okay?” he sounded really worried.

“taeyong!” you screamed to him. “can you hear me? listen, please don’t come and save me.” you choked up your tears.

“just hold on y/n. i am coming whether you want it or not.”

“oh and y/n?”

“y-yeah?”

“i am gonna tell you when i come, please hold on there.”

“n-” and before you could even finish your sentence, the man hung up. you felt extremely stressed and were hoping that taeyong wouldn’t come. you did not want to lose him. not today.

a dozen of minutes passed. he was there. you couldn’t hold back your tears now. you couldn’t believe his dumb ass was standing at the entrance of the warehouse. the man smiled and taeyong was tense. you could tell that he was scared and yet confident.

the moment he was going to give the briefcase. the police siren could be heard clear and loudly. a swat team barged into the warehouse. it did not take long for the man and his crew to chicken out. the police cut the ropes and you ran towards taeyong.

you legs were now around his waist and your arms around his necks. your lips on his. it tasted sweet and salty from your tears and his honey lip balm. you were still shaking but you immediately found a sense of security while holding him.

when the kiss ended, you asked him.

“taeyong, what did you want to tell me?” the lights made his beautiful eyes shine.

“i love you y/n for the past i don’t know, ten years probably? i never understood why you hated me. i never did.”

“taeyong, you said i was a bad kisser and it was my first kiss and it was special for me. i don’t know, i hated you since then, probably because i felt like it didn’t mean shit to you.”

“it was my first kiss too and let me tell you, it was magical. since then, i always think of you and how i always come back to you. maybe that’s why i said that, i was afraid that you would actually like me, i am scared of love but now i don’t anymore. so let’s date, for real this time?”

you smiled and gave him a small peck. he whispered in your ears.

“come on, it’s 1:27 am, let’s go home.”

#taeyong #lee taeyong #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong x you #nct scenarios #nct oneshot #taeyong oneshot

125 notes · View notes

filmista · 6 years

Text

Retrospective: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977)

🤖“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” 🚀

A lot of us either are a Star Wars fan, or we know someone that’s a huge fan. Either way, there’s no real way to avoid coming across it; it’s so ingrained in the collective conscience of the entire cinema frequenting world, that we all are familiar with the basics of its universe.

I’ve managed to avoid it until now during my 20 years on this planet, but I have a friend whose brother was an enormous fan of the franchise and owned multiple Star Wars sweatshirts that his sister would “borrow” but watch it she never could, because she found the whole world so far out there, that she thought it was hilarious.

But alas, one day her brother convinced her and she decided to just give it a watch and actually ended up liking it. Ever since she’s been trying to get me to watch it, without much success in her endeavor.

Until I recently got me curious about it myself, I thought if so many people love it there has to be a reason for it. And my experience was a huge success, I loved it on the second watch that is.

The very first time, I actually ruined my experience. By really not paying too much attention to it and even talk during…

My problem was the attitude with which I approached it, I was expecting to not connect to it beforehand, I had a preconceived of what Star Wars was, which is a silly blockbuster that later became a money-making machine.

Alas, I was wrong, and I deprived myself of a fantastically fun experience, because of my own preexisting conceptions.

I admit to most of the time being inclined towards and maybe respecting, so-called deeper and intellectual films more, films that I can really sink my teeth into.

I wouldn’t say I had a contempt for blockbusters and big studio films, I just generally don’t like them as much, I tend to find them over the top, too dramatic and sometimes a bit lacking in the emotional department.

But the longer I’ve been watching films, and my recent experience with Star Wars, really has taught me something, there’s nothing with a film being innocent fun and just an adventure throughout.

Afterward, I realized how ridiculous it is that I do value Jurrasic Park, which is also a huge blockbuster, but looked down on Star Wars, just because it all overall seems more plausible and is set in a world that’s still recognizable.

There’s merit in building an engaging fantasy world, and in creating characters that are instantly likable and that the audience can care about.

Star Wars (the whole franchise) has now become a piece of pop culture, and especially that first film, allows us to travel back in time, to the 70’s a particular period in cinema history, to the time of the first so-called blockbuster.

My main beef with “blockbusters” is that I’m not talking about each and every single one, there are ones that I enjoy.

But they’re often so formulaic and so played into what people will automatically like and be attracted to, and sometimes that results in something that I find lackluster, not spontaneous enough and without a fun, beating heart though.

And while Star Wars is the so-called first blockbuster, one of the films that changed film history. My dislike of it was completely unjustified. And the joke was on me because I missed out all those years.

Whilst it is a big film and expanded into something even bigger over the years: a franchise. No one really knew whether there would be sequels, but George Lucas did set up the possibility for them.

It really made marketing for these big films into a huge thing, the company in charge of making the action figures for Star Wars (Kenner) initially was unable to keep up with the demand, every kid that saw this at the time wanted one.

Now that’s something normal, but Star Wars was really the first film to start that. and it’s mostly relatively unknown cast at the time, apart from Harrison Ford (who had previously starred in the George Lucas directed, American Graffiti) were propelled into superstardom and into 70’s icons.

Everyone knows names like Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill, even if they’ve never seen a single Star Wars film. And everyone knows terms from the film, everyone knows what a lightsaber is and has a vague idea of what a Jedi is.

So aside from all of its technical merits, and there’s quite a few, it’s above all else a historical document almost as well as a darn good piece of entertainment, and that’s more than enough in a film sometimes.

And unlike some later blockbusters, Star Wars really is a charming and fun film, with a beating heart. You can see and feel the love that went into them, and the fun people involved were having.

Its dialogue is super cheesy even corny, but it works because of the way the actors deliver them and their enjoyable chemistry with one another, also the cheesy dialogue is quite charming in its own right.

The film is obviously more about what’s happening visually on screen, than any dialogue. And I think that was my problem initially, I always took it way too seriously… the terms didn’t make sense to me and annoyed me, and the world with all its creatures felt perplexing.

This time I decided to just sit back, watch and not think too much and allow myself to be absorbed by it, really allow myself to be swept into the world. And it was a radically different experience.

There are still terms of which I thought wait what is that, or what is that thing supposed to be? The truth is that doesn’t matter for one’s enjoyment of the film at all, once you stop trying to make too much sense of it, and look at it too rationally it becomes incredibly rewarding. It’s not about being realistic. the whole thing takes place in a fantasy world, Star Wars is like a surreal dream come to life. And it’s really a matter of suspending any disbelief and logical questioning and just accept that stuff is called the way it is, looks the way it is, and that it’s a world with giant slugs and rats that look tiny kangaroos.

I was never before able to just let that element of it slide, and once you do start analyzing it, it can almost become funny. This time I set to myself: you’re gonna watch this, you’re not gonna question anything or laugh at anything. And I’m certainly glad me, myself and I had a stern talk.

I generally don’t dig stuff set in space all that much or with intricate fantasy worlds. But Star Wars felt different, yes it’s in space. But it doesn’t feel confined to one space, nor does too outrageous…

There’s something so familiar about that world, something we all instinctively know of how it works and that’s almost comforting and cozy to disappear in.

It reminded me of when I would dive into comic books when I was younger, and just disappear into them an entire afternoon, Star Wars really brings back some of that childlike wonder and awe, and in that sense, it really is a purely magical film.

I watched A New Hope, whilst feeling a little under the weather, and the afternoon passed incredibly quickly, which is what good films do: they make you unaware of time and space. It’s over two hours run time, actually felt quite short this time. And I can’t wait to check out the other ones as well.

But to return to my previous point, part of why it’s so fun to disappear in and probably part of its enduring appeal and popularity is its coziness, the really lived in vibe of it all. The title also helps in this, by adding Episode to its title, it feels like being into introduced to a world that has always been there and that we’re just stumbling into it.

It also doesn’t present us with any storylines, or conventions that are hard to grasp. You get an instinctive feel of the world and its rules and conventions. When it comes down to it, it really is a simple story of good vs evil, with the classical plot point of saving a princess thrown into the mix.

The fun thing is that it does subvert some of these classical conventions, in any other story princess Leia would have waited passively for her rescue, whilst here she actually consciously chose to fight and resists until the end. At least in the first one, you don’t exactly find out why the empire is precisely so evil and why they want to rebel against it, but I figured it was just some sort of space equivalent to a fascist regime that wants to rule each and every one of the territories around it. Imperialism in space, heavy…

The first time watching this, I questioned all of that too much, but this time I was like, okay the empire is run by some evil bastards in space, there are rebels fighting against them and they’ve got plans laid to destroy their massive weapon of mega-destruction. Which is what the empire wants to recover from the rebels, but of course, we all know Leia hid them in R2D2.

Speaking of the robots, aside from their designs being super cute, as well as all the bleeps and blips. I loved how positively they were portrayed, no the robots are gonna take over and destroy all of us!

That kind of film can be good, but it would be way too negative for Star Wars. Here they’re really seen as equals by the characters, and even worthy of being friends with. As well as having a personality as defined as the humans, the whole dynamic between R2D2 and 3CPO is both hilarious and heartwarming.

And that’s again why it works so well, the lightness even the humor and all. There are moments of light bullshit almost that defy logic, like R2D2 and 3CPO talking the stormtrooper into letting them go, with the excuse of R2D2 having to go to maintenance, it’s like an almost ridiculously simple solution to the situation at hand. Lucas knows it’s nonsense, but just doesn’t care. After all, it’s part of the genre.

If you really want to dig deep (well actually not that deep) but if you insist on an intellectual side to cinema, you’ll have realized that the force is actually one big metaphor for religion, a higher power. And that some believe in it and others don’t. Han Solo literally talks about the force in terms of: “I don’t believe in any of that hokey religious stuff”.

But essentially it’s a metaphor for believing, for believing in something bigger than ourselves, that helps us overcome obstacles along our way.

The whole given of The Force is actually incredibly well handled. At first sight, it seems like mumbo-jumbo - "The Force is an energy field that flows everywhere, you have to become passive and let yourself be led by it." In other words: relax and just watch what happens.

That’s not exactly a very profound philosophy, given that it was apparently used for hundreds of years as a basis for peace and quiet in the Milky Way.

Yet it’s not bad that Lucas keeps it simple (and purposefully vague, you can see whatever you want in it) The Force is just The Force and no further bullshit. Everyone has an instinctive sense of what it is, but there are no long, pretentious monologues needed to make it work and have people grasp the concept.

Seventies icons Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher have the nominal main roles, and don’t do a bad job at all, their friendship comes across as believable and is very enjoyable to watch.

The chemistry between Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher, also reveals hints of what’s to pass between the two later on in the story. The whole cast overall has fantastic chemistry with each other, you can’t really imagine that any of them got along badly in real life, they seem to be having too much genuine fun. But it is Harrison Ford who steals the show as Han Solo. It is only with his entry into the film, 45 minutes after the beginning, that everything really comes to life. All other characters are quite serious and have serious motivations.

Princess Leia tries to save her people (although Leia is a really enjoyable character because of her boldness and sassiness), only to see her entire planet explode before her eyes. Heavy. Luke Skywalker, in turn, grew up without parents, with his uncle and aunt, who are also murdered at the beginning of the film.

And Obi-Wan is of course little more than a wisdom-spouting old man who must stay serene at all times while scratching his beard. Han Solo, on the other hand, has absolutely no melancholy background.

He is a mercenary, who is only out for money, and that gives him the freedom to spit out one-liners as much as he wants, to put his crooked grin on display and insult the other characters whenever he feels like it. 'Star Wars' is a series that keeps going in the direction of the bombastic.

Perhaps that is inevitable considering the genre film. The function of Han Solo's character is that he pierces through that bombast. Whenever it threatens to go all over the top, you just have to give him a scene, and immediately the atmosphere becomes lighter, more pleasant and enjoyable.

Another thing that can’t be avoided when talking about Star Wars, is just how beautifully worked out and brought onto the screen the whole universe is. While it’s all undeniably a product of its time and feels decidedly 70’s, it still holds up incredibly well and feels really realistic for its time.

The different locations are all incredibly gorgeous to look at, and the special effects absolutely splendid. The colors and lights of some scenes is an absolute joy. Whilst John William’s beautiful score, adds grandiosity and epicness as well as emotionally complementing certain scenes.

Star Wars is undeniably a piece of film history that can’t really be avoided. I wouldn’t have called it a masterpiece before, rather a very well made piece of entertainment. But now I’d have to change my view: a film can be a masterpiece, precisely for being an incredible piece of entertainment.

"Someone Has To Save Our Skins. Into The Garbage Chute, Fly Boy."

#I think I’ll be reviewing the two other films in the original trilogy soon #star wars #star was 1977 #star wars a new hope #star wars episode IV: a new hope #70’s cinema #george lucas #mark hamill #harrison ford #carrie fisher #movies #films #vintage review #reviews #retropsective #movie review #film review #cinema #filmista

23 notes · View notes

zoemurph · 6 years

Text

to have a friend, chapter five: $98

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

happy birthday to myself heres a mess of a chapter thats literally ALL over the place but i do what i want

ive been watching the gbbo cause ive been super sick and now i will now project as i do with everything else. speaking of which, everything thats been mentioned happening in school in this fic has happened!! that applies to this chapter too!! isnt public school fucking wild

warnings: anxiety, anxiety/panic attack, some suicidal thoughts, let me know if any other warnings should be added

enjoy!

“Do you usually walk home?” Evan asks, following Connor out of the school.

“Yeah.”

“Do you not— do you drive?”

Connor gives Evan a weird look. “Why?”

Evan shrugs. “I don’t— I mean, most people drive. That’s a thing. That teenagers do. Jared drives. A-Alana drives. Um…most of our senior class drives, e-even if they don’t have a car. The juniors drive. Some of the older sophomores drive—”

“And are incredibly annoying about it,” Connor interrupts.

Evan ducks his head. “Not as annoying as the freshman.”

“God you’re right.” They stop at a stoplight and wait for the walking light to turn. Connor runs a hand through his hair. “I have my license, but I’m not allowed to drive right now.” Evan frowns. “Why not?”

Connor takes a step off the sidewalk and looks down the road. “Come on,” he says, motioning for Evan to follow. He takes long strides as Evan rushes to catch up. “Parents. Mom’s worried about me driving high or hurting myself. Larry’s worried about the car.”

“O-oh.”

Connor furrows his eyebrows and glances down at Evan. “Don’t worry about it, Hansen. I don’t care what he thinks.”

Evan nods. “Right. Right, duh. Of course you don’t.”

Connor shakes his head. “By the way, did I mention that my mom thinks that you have a really garbage immune system.”

“She does?” Evan asks in surprise. “W-why?”

“Word vomit.” Connor makes a face. “My bad.”

“I mean…” Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “That’s not— Anxiety can like…really screw up your immune system? Um…stress is bad for you. And I’m…always stressed.”

Connor snorts. “No shit.”

“Yes shit,” Evan mutters. “Cold season is a ni-nightmare.”

“Drink more tea,” Connor suggests.

“Wow, never thought to try that before.”

Connor laughs. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you suffer on your own then. Have fun being sick.”

“Being sick is the worst .” Evan steps closer to Connor to avoid a puddle. “B-because if you’re sick you miss class and then you miss work and everything starts piling up and then you have way too much work to do and then you’re failing out of school.”

Connor is quiet for a second before he says, “I don’t know, I skipped most of school last year and I’m still here.” He tilts his head as he looks at Evan. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“Okay is relative,” Evan murmurs.

“Anyway I wanted to warn you in case my mom starts shoving fucking…vitamins or a ridiculous amount of citrus fruits at you.” Connor steps onto the street as the sidewalk ends and casually walks in almost the middle of the lane. “She can be really…”

“Worried?” Evan suggests.

“I was going to say aggressive, but that word is nicer.”

“Hm.” Evan can’t really remember the last time his mom really fussed over him. It sometimes happens in quick bursts when she’s home, but she’s never home enough to really worry about him. She refills his meds when he needs more, she leaves him money for dinner, she pushes the scholarship applications. He can’t really imagine her trying to get him to take vitamins or eat oranges or anything like that.

Evan shakes away those thoughts and focuses on the walk to the Murphys. It’s nice. The trees have started to change color with the turn of the season and it’s starting to get colder. Not too cold, but cold enough that he has to start bringing a sweater to school. They’re only three days into October, but Jared has already started yelling about Halloween.

Evan looks at Connor out of the corner of his eye. It’d definitely be too weird to ask what Connor is doing for Halloween. He’s probably going to go out and get high or something. That’s what most teenagers do on Halloween, right? Go party and take advantage of illegal substances?

Evan will probably just leave out a bowl of candy on the steps and watch TV. That won’t be too bad. Or different from what he’s done for the past few years.

“Mom’s really into seasonal decorating,” Connor says when they get to his house. He nods to the autumn wreath hanging on the front door as he pulls out his key. “There’s a fine line between classy and tacky and I don’t think anyone in my family knows where it is.”

Evan smiles. “I think it’s nice.”

Connor huffs. “You would.” He opens the door and bends down to pull off his boots. “I’m home!” he shouts as he leans against the wall to undo the zipper. “Evan’s here too.”

Evan toes off his sneakers and moves them next to Connor’s boots. Connor had slipped him fifteen dollars this morning instead of ten and asked if Evan was free after school. Evan never does anything other than homework and therapy, and therapy is a Wednesday event.

Cynthia pokes her head out of the kitchen as they pass it. She smiles at Evan. “Hello, Evan! Are you two hungry?”

Connor looks to Evan and Evan shakes his head. “N-no, I’m good but th-thank you!”

She nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Let’s go.” Connor leads Evan up to his bedroom. He tosses his backpack onto the desk and kicks a few things on the floor into what is sort of a pile of things against a wall. “I’d apologize for the mess but I don’t give a shit.”

Evan wonders if it’s weird not having a bedroom door. It seems uncomfortable. “I-I don’t mind,” he promises.

“Cool.” Connor bends down and picks up a mug from the floor. He looks inside and makes a face before putting it on the desk.

“What’s that?” Evan asks. And a better question is probably, should Connor wash it or just throw it out. Sometimes it’s not worth it to try and save dishes and the best option is to just toss them with whatever disgusting thing is growing in or on them.

“Paint water,” Connor says. He pushes the mug further away from the edge of his desk. “It looks like puke. Probably need to clean it.”

“You paint?” Evan asks in surprise.

“Not really.” Connor pulls out the desk chair and then leans against the edge of his bed.

Evan hesitates before he sits down in the chair. “I-I didn’t know you liked art.”

“I don’t. Art is the fucking worst.”

Evan blinks. “Uh…okay?”

“It’s hard ,” Connor almost whines. “Like…what’s the fucking point?”

“I don’t know,” Evan admits. “I’ve never really…done it outside of elementary school art classes and those were… I mean, we drew shoes that one time? Do— do you remember that?” Their art teacher had brought in a giant shoe because her husband’s company made custom shoes for basketball players, whose feet were so big they couldn’t buy shoes in a normal store. Now he wonders if the shoe was that big or if they just seemed big to second graders.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah…yeah I think I do. She made us take off our sneakers and put them on the table. And Josh Powers threw his at Marcus and hit…who’d he hit?”

“I think it was Rachel,” Evan says slowly.

Connor narrows his eyes. “Which…which one?”

“The…redhead?” Evan sometimes forgets how many kids in their grade have the same names.

Connor groans. “ Which redhead?”

“You know multiple redheaded Rachels?” Evan asks, mostly just amazed that Connor knows people in their school beyond people he interacts with.

“It’s not as bad as the Olivias,” Connor points out. “I remember there were three in class in fourth grade.”

Evan snorts. “In third grade I had two of the Zacharys, two Hannahs, and two Joes.”

“ God .” Connor sits down on his bed. “Thank god the other Connor is in Zoe’s grade. I refuse to deal with that shit.”

“Elementary school was— it was…something.”

Connor nods. “Yeah. Lots of things were thrown.”

Evan doesn’t mean to, but he starts laughing. He claps his hands over his mouth and stares at Connor with wide eyes. “I’m sorry!” he says, voice muffled by his hands.

Connor rolls his eyes. “It’s fine , Hansen. I said it. And there was a lot of things thrown. Shoes. Dodgeballs. Printers. Bats. Rocks—”

“Tables at the principal.” Evan says.

Connor stares at him. “Wait what?”

“Uh…” Evan rubs the back of his neck. “Fourth grade. We had a project where— we were supposed to make an earthquake proof building out of whatever the teacher gave us and we— Well we made our own construction companies up? It was part of the presentation and one of the kids in our group didn’t like the name we chose and he started getting really really mad and the teacher called the principal and when the principal came in he threw the table and the project at her.” He meets Connor’s eyes. “Um…you-you weren’t the only one to uh…maybe have some anger problems? When we were growing up?”

Connor crosses his arms. “Growing up? Just growing up?” Evan would be nervous, except for the smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You never threw someone into the chairs in the cafeteria and beat them to a pulp,” Evan whispers.

Connor straightens. “You saw that?!”

“Part of it. Heard more of it. Jared got a video.”

Connor whistles. “Shit, man. Sometimes I wonder how I’m the school freak when we have shit like that go down.”

Evan laughs nervously. So yeah, some guy in their grade sent a kid to the hospital for making a move on his girlfriend, and there were a group of girls who got into a fight at the mall, and some other kid who got suspended for bringing a knife to school and doing knife tricks during class. But still, Connor Murphy has always been the one everyone is afraid of. “I th-think it’s the black clothing and long hair? M-maybe?”

“You can jump on the haircut train with Larry,” Connor says, shaking his head, “but I’m not cutting it.”

“I like it.” Evan feels his ears burn. “It’s— it fits you.”

Connor stares at him before smiling slowly. “Thanks.”

Evan ducks his head. “Um… Can you— could you show me…any of your art?”

Connor sighs. “I guess.”

“I— You don’t have to! If you don’t want to you shouldn’t— I didn’t mean to pressure you into—”

Connor stands up and reaches for something on his shelves. “Hey, Ev, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. The world won’t end if you look at shitty doodles.” He grabs a spiral bound sketchbook off the top of his bookshelf. “Don’t expect anything actually good.” He opens the sketchbook and flips through it. “Here.”

Evan takes the sketchbook from Connor. The right page is filled with a bunch of drawings. A few are half finished, others barely made it past a rough outline, but a couple are more complete. In the corner there’s a drawing that’s been completely scribbled out with such intensity that Evan wouldn’t be surprised if Connor broke the pencil while doing it. On the left page is a profile someone with a strong nose and a rounded jawline, staring ahead with a blank look in their eyes.

The contrast between styles is almost incredible. Evan looks between the quick, looser, and more cartoony style and almost realistic sketch in amazement. The way that the person’s hair is tucked behind their ears and there’s soft shading on their neck, like Connor was afraid to do anything more.

“Wow,” Evan breathes. “These are really good.”

He looks up to see Connor giving him a funny look. “I’m paying you to be my friend. You don’t have to be a kiss up too.”

“I’m not,” Evan promises. “You’re good.”

Connor scrunches up his nose and takes the sketchbook back. He holds it up and tilts his head as he looks at the pages. “Okay…yeah I’m not seeing whatever you’re talking about. Just shitty doodles and a bad attempt to draw someone I saw in a waiting room.”

“I like them.” Connor lowers the sketchbook and Evan shrugs. “I don’t know anything about art, but you aren’t bad at it. I can tell you that.”

“Okay,” Connor says slowly. “Okay.”

Evan shifts uncomfortably in the silence. He doesn’t really know where the conversation is supposed to go from here. Maybe he should just—

“Do you have a Facebook?” Connor asks suddenly.

Evan furrows his eyebrows. “W-what? Why?”

Connor closes the sketchbook and throws it on his bed. “My mom was getting on my ass for not being friends with you on Facebook.”

“Who uses Facebook?”

“Moms,” Connor says flatly. “Wine moms.”

“Is your mom a wine mom?” Evan asks, looking over his shoulder into the hallway.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know what she does all day. She could be a wine mom. Probably needs to be considering I’m her son. Anyone would need alcohol to deal with me all the time.”

Evan snorts. “You aren’t that bad.”

Connor smiles. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

Evan walks to the bathroom, furiously picking at his cast as he tries to keep his steps normal. His heart is racing and everything is wobbly and he feels like he’s about three seconds away from crying or throwing up. Or both. He can never tell.

He goes to the third floor bathroom. It means climbing the stairs — he hangs onto the railing like a lifeline — but it’s also usually empty. He needs an empty bathroom right now, he can’t lose it around other people, he can’t do that, he can’t be that kid who had a meltdown in front of half the senior class.

Part of his brain tells him half the senior class can’t fit into the boys’ bathroom.

The other half is spiraling faster and faster and faster.

He shoves the bathroom door open with his shoulder and stumbles into the handicapped stall as the lights flicker on. At least he knows no one else is in here.

Evan barely gets the door closed before he’s collapsing against the wall of the stall and sobbing as he tries to catch his breath. His knees are weak and he’s trying not to slide to the floor because it’s the bathroom it’s the fucking boys’ bathroom in a high school it’s probably the most disgusting floor ever but his legs are shaking and his hands are shaking and everything is shaking—

He scrubs away hot tears as they roll down his face.

Fuck .

He doesn’t even know what happened. One minute, he was in english. He wasn’t great but he was okay, and that was normal. And then someone was talking and Evan started getting lightheaded and there was a heavy weight in his chest and he managed to raise his hand and ask to go to the bathroom and sound somewhat normal and leave the classroom sort of calmly but now he can’t breathe he can’t breathe.

The walls are closing in around him and everything is getting smaller and smaller and crushing him under the weight of the world. Evan can’t do this. He can’t.

He pulls at the edges of his cast.

He could’ve— he should’ve—

Evan takes a shuddering breath and presses the base of his good hand against his eye. He wants it to stop he wants it all to stop.

“Evan?” someone asks softly

Evan inhales sharply and jerks away from the wall of the stall. He stumbles over his own feet and crashes into the wall, hitting his shoulder hard. “W-what— wh-who?”

“Uh, it’s just. It’s Connor. Are you…?” he trails off.

Evan’s breath hitches as he tries to force himself to calm down. He focuses on Connor’s boots, he can see them in the space between the stall doors and the floor. There’s something stuck in Evan’s throat and it’s making it hard to breathe and think.

“I recognized your shoes,” Connor says after a few seconds. “I was, uh, trying to get out of international relations, cause that class is…bullshit. I hate it.”

Evan forces a watery laugh. “R-right that’s— I heard it’s-it’s for the uh, the kids who want to take AP Gov but that’s— I can see why you might—” He takes a shallow breath. He can do this he can do this.

“Hansen, is there anything I can do?”

Why is Connor even here? Why is he trying to help, why would he want to help a disaster like Evan? A lost cause and constant disappointment who can never amount to anything and will never do anything worth remembering— not worth remembering not worth trying for not worth anything. He’s just an invisible speck lost in a crowd of millions of people and he’s drowning between all of them and can’t keep his head above the water.

“Hey,” Connor says, “is it okay if I touch you?”

Evan can barely even tell he’s moving, but Connor touches his wrist very softly so he must have nodded or something. Connor gently pulls Evan’s hands away from his face. He doesn’t know how Connor got into the stall but his head is spinning and his thoughts are a muddled mess.

Evan chokes back a sob and blinks away tears as they well up in his eyes and blur his vision. Connor is searching his face with furrowed eyebrows and a concerned look in his eyes and Evan just wants to curl up in a ball and have it all stop .

“What can I do?” Connor asks softly.

Evan shakes his head. Nothing, there’s nothing. He’s decided he’s okay with everything ending in this bathroom. Because everything hurts and his brain won’t stop why won’t it stop ?

“Um… shit . Hold on.” Connor lets go of Evan’s hands and Evan inhales sharply. “I’m-I’m not leaving,” Connor promises. “I’ll be right back.” He unlocks the stall door and Evan focuses on the sound of his boots on the floor because he can still barely breathe and he’s not sure how to hold on to reality.

“Just locked the door,” Connor says, stepping back into the stall. He shuts the door and slides the lock closed.

Evan takes a deep breath. It catches and it’s shaky and bad, but it’s slow and he needs— he has to slow down his heartrate. He’s supposed to be doing deep breathing exercises, it’s not supposed to get this bad.

Inhale through the nose for five. Hold for five. Exhale through the mouth for five.

Evan gets through two cycles before his mind freezes and panics and stops. He takes a few short breaths, gasping for air.

“You’re— it’s going to be fine,” Connor says. “It’s… There’s only like twenty minutes left of school, Ev. You’re going to be okay.”

Evan just wants to lay down. To lay down on this disgusting bathroom floor and curl up in a ball and sleep and never wake up. He could just melt into the floor and stop existing and that would be so much better than this. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing a little slower but he can’t, he can’t.

“Do you…do you want me to leave?” Connor asks slowly. “I can go. I was just trying to get out of class. So I can—”

“P-please don’t— don’t leave,” Evan chokes out. He reaches out blindly, trying to find Connor with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Connor takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it lightly. “Yeah, sure. Not going anywhere.”

Evan just holds on to Connor’s hand and tries to breathe. Tries to find some semblance of calm in his mind. He doesn’t think he ends up being successful, he thinks his brain just got too tired to keep being so anxious.

When it doesn’t feel like his lungs are getting crushed anymore, Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand. “I-I’m s-sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that you— that you had to deal with me.”

“I wanted to help,” Connor says. “I promise.”

Evan can’t meet his eyes.

“There’s only a few minutes left of class.” Connor takes a step away. “Do you… Are you walking home today?”

Evan nods. He doesn’t like the bus. It’s still warm enough out that he can walk to and from school. It’s better than being on a loud and crowded vehicle that goes over potholes too fast.

“Let us bring you home,” Connor says.

Evan frowns at the floor.

“Zoe doesn’t have practice today,” Connor explains. “Just… I don’t know, can you let us drive you home? So you don’t have to walk?”

“I’m— you don’t have to,” Evan mumbles.

“Yeah, but I’m offering.”

Evan wants to say no, he really wants to say no. He can’t take advantage of Connor like that. But he also just wants to be at home as soon as possible. “O-okay.”

“Thank you.”

Evan glances up at Connor. Connor is running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll…meet you by your locker?” Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Are you…”

“I’ll be fine,” Evan says softly. Connor doesn’t look convinced, but Evan doesn’t have the energy to convince him right now. “I’ll… My locker. Yeah.”

“I’ll see you in…like three minutes,” Connor promises. “You can do a fucking countdown if you want. But I’ll be there. I swear.”

Evan nods. He digs his nails into the palm of his hand as Connor unlocks the stall and leaves the bathroom. It takes him a few more moments to figure out how to move his legs.

He still feels slightly off balance and wrong. He takes his time on the stairs, letting the bell ring and students rush around him in a sea of half known faces. He hesitates outside his english room before he ducks inside to grab his backpack. He stammers out an apology to his teacher, saying that he got sick, and she just tells him to feel better and make sure he does the reading for tomorrow.

He has to climb the stairs again to get to his locker.

Connor is there, waiting for him, staring off into the distance. As Evan approaches, Connor’s eyes snap to him and he stands up straighter.

“Zoe’ll meet us by the band room,” Connor explains. He glances from Evan to the lock. “Here I can open it.” He opens the lock quickly and Evan just forces himself to stay standing and breathing.

Connor takes books from Evan as he pulls them out of his backpack and then closes the locker as Evan puts his backpack on.

Connor glances around the halls and then takes a few quick steps to the elevator and hits the down button.

“We-we aren’t supposed to—”

“Fuck it,” Connor interrupts. “Stairs are bullshit.”

The elevator doors open and Connor pulls Evan inside, hitting the close doors button until the slide shut. Evan grips the straps of his backpack tightly. If anyone sees them using the elevator without a pass, they could get yelled at. He can’t deal with that today.

They stop on the ground level and the elevator doors open and Connor takes Evan’s arm and pulls him out of the elevator before reaching in and hitting the close doors button again. “Come on,” he murmurs, leading them toward the music wing.

Zoe is leaning against the double doors of the band room, a guitar case strapped to her back and her saxophone case at her feet. She looks up from her phone at them. She does a double take when she sees Evan, eyebrows furrowing.

“Can we go?” Connor asks shortly.

Any concern vanishes from her face as she rolls her eyes. “It’s going to take us fucking decades to get out of the parking lot at this point but whatever.”

“S-sorry,” Evan mumbles.

She shoots him a look. “Don’t worry about it, Evan. It’s just— it’s kind of messy getting out of here. It’s not your fault.” She picks up her saxophone cause. “Haul ass, Connor.”

Connor mutters something under his breath as he follows her.

Zoe leads them to the back corner of the parking lot where a silver SUV is parked. Evan finds himself thinking that if Connor were allowed to drive, they’d be able to park in the senior lot and would be closer to the school.

Zoe unlocks the car and looks to Connor and they have some sort of silent conversation before Zoe pops the trunk and loads in her instruments. “Hop in, Ev,” she says. “The car won’t eat you.” She slams the trunk shut.

Evan pulls open the backseat door and climbs in, dumping his backpack on the floor. To his surprise, Connor slides in on the other side, and not into the passenger seat in front of him. Connor tosses his bag into the passenger seat before buckling in.

“I’m apologizing now for Zoe’s music choices,” Connor says, leaning closer to Evan. “She’s on an early 2000s kick right now and it’s really fucking annoying.”

“You’re really fucking annoying,” Zoe says. She pulls the parking pass off the mirror and shoves it into the sunglasses holder. “What’s your address?” she asks Evan as she puts the keys into the ignition.

“I’ve got it,” Connor says.

Zoe meets Evan’s eyes in the mirror before shifting the car into reverse. “Okay.” She turns up the music and twists around to wait for an opening in the line of cars waiting to get out of the parking lot.

Evan blinks in surprise as Check Yes Juliet blasts from the speakers.

Connor groans.

“Just help me get out of here, asshat,” Zoe says.

Connor turns to look out the window. “You’re good with cars coming in.”

Zoe squints at the line of cars and backs up as soon as the smallest opening appears. Someone behind them honks their horn and Connor just rolls down the window and flips them off.

“And now we wait,” Zoe mutters, once she’s gotten the car into the endless line of other cars attempting to get away from this place.

“This is why I don’t drive,” Connor grumbles.

Zoe scoffs. “Okay. Sure.”

Evan rests his head against the window as they slowly move through the parking lot.

“Is this Jordin Sparks?” Connor asks when the next song comes on.

“You might be judging me,” Zoe says, “but you’re the one who recognized Jordin Sparks.”

The car is warm and Evan is so tired that it’s hard to focus. He finds himself thinking that it’s sort of nice that Connor and Zoe are arguing over something so mundane as music, even if that’s just the surface level of a much deeper problem.

Evan doesn’t fall asleep, but he does drift off. He hears Connor and Zoe talking softly, but doesn’t process any of the words. When the car stops, he blinks slowly and sits up. He squints out the window and at his front door.

Oh. Cool.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs his backpack from the floor. He opens the door and climbs out, careful to find solid footing on the driveway.

“No problem,” Zoe says with a soft smile. Her eyes dart to Connor. “You staying here?”

Connor looks at Evan. He raises an eyebrow.

Evan nods. He doesn’t…he doesn’t think he wants to be alone right now. But Connor doesn’t have to know that. If Connor asks, Evan will just say that it would be weird if Connor left him after being worried or something. Something about friendship.

“I’ll tell mom,” Zoe says. “Now get your ass out of my car or I’ll drive away with you.”

“Fuck off,” Connor mutters.

Evan digs through his bag for his house key as he walks up to the front door. He pulls it out of the pocket and unlocks the door.

Connor flips Zoe off before stepping inside. Zoe flips him off as she backs down the driveway.

Evan pulls off his shoes and leaves them by the door. He drops his backpack on the couch as he passes the living room and wanders into the kitchen. He almost forgets Connor is with him until Connor leans against the kitchen table.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Evan almost laughs because that really is the worst question. Instead, he opens a cabinet and holds out a box to Connor. “Cheez-its?”

“Did Jared buy these the other day?” Connor asks, taking the box.

“Uh…yes.” Evan feels his ears burn. “I— He bought a lot of snacks. We, um, still have pizza? If you want any?”

“Have you eaten today?” Connor asks.

Evan blinks a few times. “S-sort of? Lunch, I-I had some lunch. You?”

“Just breakfast.” Connor puts down the Cheez-its. “I’ll take a piece if you do.”

Evan feels like he might lowkey be being played, but Connor needs to eat. “Okay,” he says. “Want it warm?”

“Yeah sure.”

Evan focuses on getting the pizza out of the fridge and onto a plate and then into the microwave. As he watches the pizza slices spin, Connor digs through the kitchen drawers.

“W-what are you…?”

Connor holds up a knife and fork victoriously. “We’re good.”

“Are you… Since when do you eat pizza with silverware?”

“I’m not a caveman,” Connor says sagely. He reaches past Evan to pull open the microwave door a second before it beeps.

“You’ve never used it before?” Evan takes the pizza out and takes a slice before handing the plate to Connor.

Connor snorts and sits down at the table. “You’ve only seen me eat pizza like three times, Hansen. You don’t know me.”

Evan slowly pulls out a chair as Connor cuts up his pizza. “Yeah but…before you were eating it backwards. Which was— why were you doing that?”

Connor points his fork at Evan. “Used to make Zoe mad.”

“I-I guess that’s…valid.” Evan eats his pizza slowly as he watches Connor eat his piece by piece. He doesn’t really understand, but that’s okay. He glances at his half finished piece of pizza before he mumbles, “You don’t…you don’t have to, um, pay me for this.”

Connor lowers his fork with a weird triangle shaped piece of pizza still on it. “It’s fine, I can still—”

“No,” Evan interrupts firmly. “I— I wanted you to be here. I asked you to. It was my choice so you— you don’t have to give me anything. That’s… It’s only fair.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “If-if you try to pay me, I’ll just give the money to Zoe to sneak into your room. O-or she could just take it. And then there was no point in giving it to me.”

Connor looks at him with an expression that Evan can’t decipher for a few seconds before shrugging and saying, “Okay” before going back to his pizza.

Evan isn’t entirely content with the answer but it’ll do for now.

—«·»—

“Here,” Evan says, taking the remote from Connor and opening Netflix. “Th-there’s never really anything good on TV.”

“Sweet, thanks.”

Evan doesn’t really know how they got to this point. They finished eating and Connor offered to leave if Evan wanted him to, but Evan shook his head and then somehow…they ended up on the couch.

“The Great British Baking Show?” Connor asks, reading the title of the first show under ‘Continue Watching’.

“Oh, um…” Evan plays with the hem of his shirt. “It’s…a nice show? It’s not— other cooking shows are a lot more stressful? And intense? This one is… It’s a lot nicer. It’s kind of funny and they have nice bakers usually.”

Connor gives him a half smile. “You like baking?”

Evan rolls his eyes. “We both know I can’t bake for shit.”

Connor laughs. “I know, it’s just funny how you like to watch people bake but burn mac n cheese.”

“I never burned mac n cheese,” Evan mumbles.

“Do you mind?” Connor asks, gesturing to the screen.

Evan shakes his head.

Connor goes to the beginning of the season Evan had open and restarts the first episode.

“Oh there are going to be lots of measurements that I do not fucking understand,” Connor says.

Evan smiles and leans back on the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to watch something where he already knows the outcome, and Connor has some pretty amusing commentary to add to the whole thing. It’s kind of funny how fast Connor decides who his favorite and least favorite bakers are.

As Connor watches a technical challenge where no one has any clue what the hell they’re doing, Evan feels himself drifting off to sleep and he can’t find the energy to stop himself.

—«·»—

Evan wakes up slowly. His eyelids are heavy— his whole body is heavy, actually. There’s still thick cobwebs of sleep left in his brain that haven’t been dusted away and they’re making it very hard to regain consciousness. This usually happens after really bad days that involve some sort of meltdown, but all it ever does is make Evan want to go back to sleep.

He turns his head to press his face more into his pillow. Something tickles his nose. Something like…hair?

Evan groans and sits up, squinting at the bright screen of the television. Connor turns to look at him and gives him a crooked smile.

Oh.

His pillow had been Connor’s shoulder.

“S-sorry,” Evan mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Connor promises. Their arms are still pressed together and Evan really doesn’t care to move right now. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Fine. Uh…how long was I…?”

Connor glances to the screen. “Maybe two and a half hours?” Evan’s eyes go wide. “It’s fine, Ev. I’m okay with being used as a pillow. You needed the sleep and I got to get through a few more episodes of the show. Win win.”

“Win win,” Evan repeats softly. “Do you… Are you leaving soon?”

“Do you want me to?” Connor asks.

Evan is a selfish person. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he hates himself for it.

“Not yet.”

#connor murphy #evan hansen #zoe murphy #deh #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #oh shit (oh shit)

40 notes · View notes

lenfaz · 7 years

Text

Time Upon Once, ch. 9 (9/?)

Summary: Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones for the banner!

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story:@lk0622@nowforruin@sambethe@xemmaloveskillianx @l-e-x-a-xd @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain @icecubelotr44 @poetic-justice-96 @allietumbles @el-kelpo @jennjenn615 @leiandcharles (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II III IV V VI VII VIII

ao3 ff.net

Chapter IX

It had been a couple of quiet weeks and Killian had gotten into a comfortable routine of running the Sheriff’s station and spending time with Henry when he could. He wasn’t sure if Regina had allowed it - or if she was merely turning a blind eye, but either way he’d been grateful. He’d also made a habit of spending his evenings with Mary Margaret, helping ease the loneliness it seemed to surround her and even convincing her to hit the local bar once or twice a week. He had yet to find a decent bloke for her, but he hadn’t given up hope. Killian was sure there were some suitable choices in Storybrooke that weren’t married. There had to be.

But the honeymoon period at the Sheriff’s office had to come to an end eventually and it wasn’t long before Killian found himself entering the local convenience store after a call from the owner about a shoplifting situation. The first thing that struck him as odd was running into Regina and Henry leaving the store.

“Henry, what happened?”

“Mr. Jones, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing. You shouldn’t be here. It’s all taken care of.”

Regina had a point, and Killian knew better than to go against her, but he couldn’t resist the words that came to his mouth. “I’m here because I’m the Sheriff, Mayor Mills.”

Regina rolled her eyes as if he were a nuisance she hadn’t been able to get rid of. “Oh, that’s right. Go on – do your job. Take care of those miscreants.” She pointed to the interior of the store as she motioned Henry out.

Killian focused his attention back to the store and the two kids that were looking at him with terrified expressions.

“Did you call their parents?” he asked Mr. Clark, the store owner.

“Uh, the number they gave me was disconnected.” Mr. Clark stepped into the back of the store to give Killian some privacy with the kids.

“Did you gave Mr. Clark a fake number?” He tried to give his voice authority without overdoing it, as the fear on the kids’ faces was almost palpable at this point.

They both shook their heads. He pressed for more information. “Then why’s it disconnected?”

“Cause our parents couldn’t pay the bill.” The girl’s voice was small, broken by fear and shame and it tugged at Killian’s heart. His eyes darted to the items lying over the counter. There were a few candy bars, but he could also see some necessity items in there. Food, toiletries. He could see all the signs. After all, how many times had Killian himself been in that same spot when he was young?

“You’re just trying to help out, aren’t you?” He gave them what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Please – please don’t arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents,” the girl begged.

He’d love to have a few words with those parents. Killian really wanted that, but right now, he needed to ensure those kids were not more frightened by life than what they already were.

He motioned with his hand as he reached for his wallet to pay for the groceries. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

/-/

It wasn’t a long ride until they reached the house. The children were sat in the back of the cruiser, holding the bags of groceries Killian had purchased for them. On first sight, the house gave him a bad feeling. It didn’t seemed inhabited. Not really. The structure was there, but the door and shutters were closed and nothing seemed out of place. Something didn’t quite fit. Killian turned around and looked at them.

“This is it?” They both nodded. “Alright, let’s go.” He took off his seatbelt and reached to open the door, but the girl - Ava - stopped him.

“Please, no. If our parents see you, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

Something in her voice didn’t seem quite right. Killian tilted his head and studied her face. “Did Henry tell you about my superpower?” When both kids shook their heads, he gave them a tight smile. “I can tell when someone is lying to me. So, tell me the truth - other than money problems, is everything okay at home?”

Killian knew it was a long shot, the children had barely met him and they seem to run like a tight unit, with Ava doing the talking while the lad - Nicholas - followed her lead. So it was little surprise that it was Ava who looked straight into his eyes and delivered the perfected lie.

“Yeah, we’re great. Can we go?”

He wasn’t born yesterday, but he also knew he was not going to get a single word out of them at this moment, so he simply nodded and watched them get out of the car. They went up the stairs and turned around as Killian turned over the engine. The children waved at him and seemed to be waiting for Killian to drive off, which he promptly did.

He didn’t go far. Killian turned around the corner and parked the car. He killed the engine and got out. The children were no longer on the stairs when he made his way back to the house. He tried the door, and it gave way easily. He opened it enough to pop his head inside the house.

Not only there wasn’t a living soul in the house, but there wasn’t much to begin with. Killian sighed as he entered the house, verifying his worst suspicious as he took a few steps and noticed that no one - and nothing - lived there. Not for a good long while.

A singular noise coming from the kitchen - as if a door were opening - made him walk towards that room, his hand reaching to the gun he kept at his hip. But he quickly drop the hand when he noticed Ava and Nicholas coming from the basement, their backs to him.

“Why’d you guys lie to me?” he asked in a clipped tone and watched as the kids turned around, a horrified expression on their faces. “Where are your parents?” he insisted.

And then Ava delivered the few words that were sure to rip out his heart. “We don’t have any.”

/-/

Unsure of what to do, or more accurately, hesitant to execute what he knew had to do, Killian made a quick stop at the Sheriff’s station to pick up any files they had on the kids before he took them to the loft. Mary Margaret hadn’t arrived yet - he recalled she had mentioned a teacher’s meeting at the end of her day -, and whilst Killian wasn’t a master cook, he could still throw a few things together in order to prepare a decent meal.

He glanced at the two kids that were looking at him with a mix of apprehension and fear, his mind taking him back to all the times he felt the same way when he was their age. Alone, scared, uncertain of his future, grieving. Killian sighed and tried to think of what type of food he could make for them that could at least put them at ease for a while.

And that is how Mary Margaret entered the loft to a sight of the three of them eating mac and cheese with juice.

“I saved you a ration,” Killian smiled shyly as Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling like a ten-year old caught by his mother.

She sighed, running a hand through his hair before he grabbed a file and tilted his head for her to join him on the other side of the room, out of the kids’ earshot.

“Do you know them from school?” Killian asked when he was sure the kids were not able to hear him.

Mary Margaret look over Killian’s shoulder at the children with despair. “I’ve seen them, but… I had no idea. None of us did,” she sighed with defeat, as if she were berating herself for not realizing any of this, even if the children were not in her class.

Killian opened the file and read from it. “Ava and Nicholas Zimmer. They said their mother was a woman named Dory Zimmer. She died a few years ago. No one seems to know her or remember her.” He looked up to find Mary Margaret shaking her head and if she couldn’t remember the woman either.

“And the father?”

Killian sighed. “There isn’t one. At least not one that they know.” It seemed to be a dead end.

“What does Social Services say?” She asked with concern in her voice. Killian’s mouth opened, but no words came out of it as he winced and gave Mary Margaret a sheepish look.

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret. “You didn’t report them.”

“I can’t,” Killian sighed. “I report them, I can’t help them. They go into the system.”

“The system that’s supposed to help,” Mary Margaret stated, only to be met by his stern eyes.

“Mary Margaret, you didn’t grow up in there. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

She gave him a smile that had a hint of commiseration in it. If it had come from anyone else, he’d already be out of the door. But somehow, it didn’t bother him when it came from Mary Margaret. It made him feel cared for, in way that it was almost too scary for him to admit. “You - you had a good home.”

“But I was adopted when I was baby!” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he was failing and he knew it the moment his eyes filled with tears he fought off. “When the Joneses died and I went back to the system, it wasn’t nice… at all.”

“But perhaps for them-” she started but he cut her off.

“At their age, so close to the holidays, they won’t make it to a good home. They’ll get thrown into homes where they are a meal ticket – nothing more. These families get paid for these kids and as soon as they’re too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again.” His voice was nothing but a broken whisper. “Trust me, I know.”

He dared to meet her eyes again, almost ashamed of revealing that much of himself, even to Mary Margaret. All there was in her eyes was sympathy. “Killian, do you want to keep them?” she asked softly.

“I want to look for their father. They don’t know him. He may not know they exist.”

Understanding crept into her eyes. “You think if he knows, he’ll want them.”

He nodded, not being able to voice the thoughts he knew were showing on his expression.

I’ve always wanted Henry… I just couldn’t have him.

“I have to try. Because what I do know is hard enough finding foster families to take one kid that isn’t theirs, let alone two. It’s their best shot, or-”

The voice behind him cut him off. “We’re going to be separated?”

Killian and Mary Margaret turned to find Ava looking at them with tears in her eyes. Killian’s heart tugged at the image in front of him, so familiar for him that he’d lost count of the time he’d seen such despair in all the homes he’d been in.

“No,” he said reassuringly. “That is not going to happen.”

“Please – please don’t let it,” she begged with such desperation in her voice that broke his heart.

/-/

Killian walked into the public registry office and looked for the man behind it. “Excuse me, Mr. -” He took a look at the little plaque set on the counter. “Krzyszkowski?”

After being corrected on the correct pronunciation of the name, Killian introduced himself. “I’m Sheriff Jones. I’m hoping to take a look at the birth certificates of Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.”

He was instructed to fill in some forms - in triplicate - and he was immersed in local red tape as the man busied himself looking in the filing cabinets. Krzyszkowski turned around with an unalterable expression. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. But the documents have been recently removed.”

“By who?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the answer. “The Mayor.”

Luckily, it was only a short walk down the hall from the registry into the Mayor’s office in Town Hall. He didn’t bother with polite greetings as he barged into the office and found Regina standing by her desk, rearranging some flowers. “Did you take the Zimmer kids’ file?”

Regina turned and quirked her smile at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Jones. You can relax.” She walked around her desk and stood on the other side. “I’ve contacted Social Services. Turns out these kids are on their own. They need help.” There was a hint of something of a challenge in her voice, as if she was trying to see if he was going to falter at this news.

Killian tried to school his features, not letting Regina see how much this was affecting him. “I’m trying to help. I’m trying to find their father.”

“Well, he doesn’t exist.” Regina shrugged her shoulders in a dismissive way.

“He has to.”

She handed him the folder and Killian opened, his heart breaking at the “UNKNOWN” word underneath father in the records.

“Well, of course, biologically, he exists. But unlike you, there’s no record of him.” Killian could read in her words how much she’d preferred that he wasn’t listed on Henry’s birth certificate. “Which means we have no choice – these children need a home, so they will be put into the foster system.”

“Storybrooke has a foster system?” Maybe he could do some recon on the people, keep a close eye on them. Even if things went bad, he could perhaps convince Mary Margaret to-

“No.” Regina’s word put a stop to his hope. “I’ve contacted the state. Maine’s group homes, unfortunately, are filled.” Regina walked towards a side table by the opposite wall and pulled herself a glass of juice. “But they put us in touch with two homes in Boston – a boy’s home and a girl’s.”

No.

“They’re separating them?” He couldn’t fight the emotion that was present in his voice or the way he knew his face was faltering.

“I don’t like it, either. But we’ve got no choice. You need to have them in Boston tonight.”

“Me?” As if life wasn’t already a cruel joke.

“You wanted to be Sheriff.” Regina played with the rim of her glass as she looked at him. “This is what sheriffs do. Yes, you’re taking them.”

“I promised them they wouldn’t be separated,” Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps you should stop making promises you can’t keep.” Her voice had a triumphal tone that made Killian shiver. “These children need a home. I’m just trying to find the best one.”

Separated foster homes were not the best choices, he thought. But at this point, he had little else to offer them.

/-/

Killian had spent the rest of the day poring over files at the station, trying to find a lead. But there were none. He was caught up reading when he heard the door to the office open. He lifted his head and found Henry walking in, carrying his backpack and the storybook with him.

“Any luck?” he asked as dropped his backpack on the floor and put the book over on the desk.

“No,” Killian sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration.

Henry opened the book and flipped through it. “I know who they are. They’re brother and sister, lost, no parents,” he found a page and turned the book towards Killian, showing him an illustration of two children in a forest. “Hansel and Gretel.”

He had to give it to Henry, the kid was good at relating real life stories with the fairy tales from his book. “Anything in there about the father?” Killian thought it was worth a shot to see if perhaps this could inspire a real life lead.

Henry shook his head. “Just that he abandoned them.”

“Great.” Killian stood up and headed for the filing cabinet, pulling some missing person’s reports to see if there was anything in there. “He could be anywhere by now.”

“No, he’s here,” Henry said with conviction. “No one leaves Storybrooke. No one comes here, no one goes. It’s just the way it is.”

“You left,” Killian pointed out as he sat again and opened one of the files. “I came here.”

“Because you’re special. You’re the first stranger here – ever.” Henry insisted as he sat over the desk and Killian wondered once again how bad the situation must have been that Henry had concocted all these fables in his mind.

“Well, if he’s still here, I will find him.” Finding people was what he did best. He just needed a bloody lead to start his tracking. Something. Anything.

“Speaking of parents,” Henry started and something in his tone made Killian lift his head. “Can you tell me more about Emma?”

Killian smiled at his son. “Henry, I-”

“Please?” he begged, his eyes wide with an aching need that Killian knew too well. It was the same he’d sported most of his life. “Were you together when you went to jail? What happened?”

It was all Henry had to say for Killian’s mind to drift to the night he’d pinpointed as the beginning of the end.

It was a few months after his 18th birthday that they stood in a soft embrace at the entrance of that motel room. They were still spending most of their nights in the backseat of the Bug; but, somehow, the night manager had taken a shine to them. She’d let them use of the vacant rooms once a week, so they could have a hot shower and a warm bed. If she realized how young they were - or how they seemed to get by - she didn’t mention as she slid Killian the key each time, along with a 20 dollar bill he always refused to accept.

But soon their hardships would be over. Once he succeeded in doing the pick-up Neal and August had told him about, his cut would enough to buy them a better life. He’d made sure of it when Neal and August had tried to negotiate with him.

“I still don’t trust them,” Emma whispered against his neck, her lips caressing the bare skin and causing him to shiver, his hand tightening his grip on her waist as he pulled her closer to him. “August is always acting mysterious and broody as if that makes him interesting -” Killian chuckled at Emma’s clear distaste for the cryptic man, whose theatrics hadn’t impressed Killian either. “And Neal-”

It was her time to shudder and Killian held her tighter. Neither of them liked Neal that much, but Killian especially didn’t like the way his eyes would roam over Emma. He had thought about quitting on this task a few times and just taking Emma and driving the Bug far away, but the possibilities-

“I know.” His voice was exuding a calm he didn’t quite feel as he took a step away from her embrace and met her eyes. “I don’t like it either but Emma, this can change everything. This will change everything.”

His fingers interlaced with hers. “I pull this off and then we can be out of here… we can start over in another city. We’ll have enough money to rent a place and we can work on getting our GEDs and finding jobs-” he trailed off, his other hand reaching to trail her cheek and she leaned in further into his touch.

“We can have the life we always wanted. The life we deserve.”

The life you deserve.

Her lips claimed his in a desperate way, as if she were pouring all her fears and hesitations in that kiss, in the way she pulled him further into the room and towards the bed.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

“Aye, I promise,” he whispered as he laid her gently down on the bed and hovered over her, his lips never leaving her skin.

Killian cleared his throat, bringing himself back from the painful memories. “I made her a promise I couldn’t keep.” He met Henry’s eyes fair and square. “When I- when I went to jail, I was framed. Emma, she didn’t trust the men I associated with and she tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen to her. I promised her everything would be okay. And it wasn’t.”

I left her alone, the moment she needed me the most.

“I never meant to betray her, but I did.” He sighed, running a hand through the back of his neck.

“Did you try to look for her? When you got out of jail?”

“Aye… but I couldn’t find her, m’boy” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes welling with tears as he witnessed Henry’s heartache.

“I couldn’t find her either.” He tilted his head in that way Killian was so familiar with. “Do you have anything from her? Other than the picture you gave me?”

Killian sadly shook his head. “I’ll tell you what. You can have the Bug when you’re old enough to drive. It was her car to begin with.”

Henry beamed at him and Killian wished with all his heart that he could have something - anything - left from Emma to give to the boy. Something to know how much Emma had cared about him. Because he had no doubt in his mind that Emma had cared for the lad, so much that she let Henry go so he could have his better chance. Something the lad could hold onto for the rest of his life, much like he had held onto his baby blanket-

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

“Henry, I have to go… I think I know how to track this guy.” He quickly stood up and reached to kiss the lad on his forehead before he exited the station and headed to the loft. He had an idea on how to start looking for this guy.

He was halfway down the block when he realized it was the first time he’d kissed his son’s forehead.

/-/

He retrieved the box with his meager mementos and headed downstairs, where the children were eating milk and decorated cookies - Mary Margaret really had a knack for hosting.

“I want to show you something,” he said as he pulled his blanket out of the box where it was laying carefully next to a little box that carried a few mementos. It was a white one with blue ribbons and his name embroidered in blue as well.

“What’s that?”

“It’s my baby blanket. It’s something I’ve held onto my whole life. It’s the only thing that I have from… from the people that gave birth to me.” He couldn’t bring himself to call them his parents. Not even in this moment. “I’ve spent a lot of time with kids in your situation and they - we - hold onto stuff.” He gave them an encouraging smile as their eyes widened at his confession. Aye, a lost boy trying to help another set of lost children. “I want to find your father, but I need your help. Is there anything you’ve held onto?”

Ava gave him an inquisitive look. “I might… but if I give it to you, you'll make sure we stay together, right?”

“Aye.” He was going to do everything in his power to keep that promise.

She pulled an object from the pocket of her sweater and handed it to him. It was a compass secured to a chain.

“Our mom kept it. She said it was our dad’s.”

He took the compass with the reverence it deserved. “Thank you.” He turned it in his hands to examine it for possible clues.

“Did you find them?” Ava’s voice broke him out of his focus.

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

“No. I found people that raised me as their own until I lost them. After that, I knew it wasn’t worth looking.” He knew it was not the best tale, but he had to tell them the truth. “But I will find yours.”

/-/

Dealing with Gold was always something that Killian despised, and dealing with the man when he needed something from him always left him with a sour taste in his mouth. But alas, after some gibberish speech about craftsmanship of the piece and a request for forgiveness - Gold had to settle for tolerance because Killian wasn’t interested in much more - Killian had walked out of the pawnshop with a name.

Michael Tillman.

It was quite easy to find the man working at his garage. What wasn’t easy was convincing him he’d fathered twins twelve years ago.

“It can’t be possible.” Michael held the files with Ava and Nicholas’ pictures in his hands, but refused to believe it.

“Aye, mate, but it is.”

Michael handed them back the files. “Dory wasn’t my - it was just once.”

Killian tilted his head. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

“I met her when I was camping… it was a fling. It can’t be. I don’t have twins.”

Killian had enough of the man’s reticence. It wasn’t the first time he’d found it in his line of work. “Yes, you do.” The firm tone of his voice caught Michael’s attention. “You have twins that have been homeless ever since their mother passed away. You have twins who have been living in an abandoned house because they don’t want to be separated from each other. You have twins who are about to be shipped off to Boston, unless you step up and take responsibility for them.”

“I can barely manage this garage. I can’t manage two kids. And why are you so sure they’re mine?”

He was going to punch the guy, God help him. “Besides the timing?” He took the compass out of his pocket. “Perhaps you’ve lost this, I don't’ know - twelve years and nine months ago?”

Michael froze as he took the compass and Killian felt sorry for the man. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“What would you know? It’s not like you took care of yours.”

Killian clenched his jaw and tilted his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, mate.” There was enough threat in his voice to make the other man recoil a few steps. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s not easy. The son I consented to give up for adoption showed up at my doorstep a little over month ago, asking for help with… something. And I ended up moving here for him.” It was unbelievable that it’d only been a month since his life had changed so drastically. Only a month of meeting the one person - the other person - he knew he’d never leave in his life.

“Staying in town, it’s a lot different than taking him in.”

“You have a choice, I didn’t.” Killian met Michael’s eyes. “Those kids didn’t ask to be brought into this world. You brought them into this world – you and their mother. And they need you. And if you choose not to take them, you are going to have to answer for that every day of your life. And sooner or later, when they find you – because believe me, they will find you – you’re going to have to answer to them.”

But no matter how much he was trying to get through the man, it was a fruitless attempt. “I’m really sorry. I am. But I don’t know anything about being a dad. If it’s a good home you’re looking for, it’s not with me.” He handed the compass back to Killian and turned away from him.

He knew he should just let it go, just walk away and drive those kids down to Boston and hope they end up in a place where they were wanted. He should just do his duty as the Sheriff of this town.

And yet- Killian closed his fist over the compass. “I didn’t know anything about being a father either, mate, but that doesn’t mean we leave our children to their fate when they need us.”

/-/

He couldn’t face coming back to the loft. Heartbroken, he made a phone call to the one person he needed to talk with at this moment.

Mary Margaret quickly met him outside.

“He doesn’t want the kids,” he sighed in defeat.

“And you don’t want to tell them.” Mary Margaret was getting really good at reading him like an open book.

“I can’t tell them. I’ll be breaking their hearts.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll be yet another adult that gave them false hope and lied to them.”

“Are you talking about them - or you?” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. “Killian, the truth can be painful, but it can also be cathartic.”

“I have yet to see the cathartic part.” Killian offered with a quip, trying hard to control the turmoil of emotions he was feeling with this entire case. “Perhaps we can hide them, just until we find someone in town willing to take care of them?”

“The Sheriff talking about hiding two twelve year olds. This is a great plan, Killian.” It had to be the first time she was this sarcastic with him.

“Do you have a better idea, darling?” He snapped back. “Something that doesn’t involve separating those kids and break their hearts?”

If Mary Margaret had a plan, she couldn’t say because they were interrupted by the Mayor.

“Sheriff, shouldn’t you be on the interstate by now?”

“Keeping tabs on me, love?” Killian knew he shouldn’t be talking like that to the Mayor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Seeing to it that you do your job, that is all.”

“You don’t have to check up on me, Regina.” He took a couple of steps and invading her personal space, having the satisfaction to see her step back. “I know what I have to do. I’m quite good at it.”

This was a terrible - terrible - idea. He was playing with fire. Regina’s eyes avoided him for a second before she took a hold of herself.

“Have them in Boston tonight, Sheriff Jones.”

/-/

Killian couldn’t even make eye contact with the children as he drove them towards the town exit, Henry’s warning about them not being able to leave town still lingering in his mind. It was then when the patrol car started slowing and the engine making a few alarming noises. He pulled to the side of the road just in time, as the engine cut out and refused to start again. He gave it one half-hearted try to see if the engine would respond. It ‘didn’t’.

Oh, well. He had no option but to call in a tow.

It wasn’t long until Michael Tillman showed up and the way his eyes widened at the two children sitting in the back of the patrol car said everything Killian needed to know.

“That’s them.”

“Aye. I just wanted you to see them. At least once.” Killian swallowed, pushing his fears aside. “I didn’t think I could do it either. Henry’s birth mother and I, we wanted to give him his best shot. When he came to me, and I saw he wasn’t as happy as I wanted him to be, I couldn’t leave. Not until I knew he’d be okay. But now, now that I know him, I can’t go back. It’s all or nothing now.”

He met Michael’s eyes. “I’m sure the car will start again if I really get into it. I have to take them to Boston.”

“No, you don’t.” Michael quickly made his way towards the patrol car and Killian’s heart got a little rest from the turmoil of the past few days as he saw father and children fuse into an embrace.

It was a long day and by the time he finally made it back to the loft, he was knackered. Mary Margaret was sitting on her bed, folding laundry. Killian threw himself down on the bed. “Their dad showed up. Changed his mind.” He offered as explanation, but nothing seemed to get past Mary Margaret.

“Just like that?” There was that tone that probably would make eight year olds confess to the pettiest of crimes. And it seemed to be working on Killian too.

“I might have given him a little nudge.” Mary Margaret quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, perhaps a shove.” His eyes focused on the ceiling, letting his own buried hopes and dreams come to the surface. “I’ve always wondered, you know? What it would be like to find them. After I lost my adop - my parents, I always thought perhaps my birth parents would find me… explain to me why they left me. But they never did.”

“You don’t need to find your birth parents, Killian. Not if you don’t want to,” Mary Margaret offered empathically, her hand squeezing his.

Killian propped himself up on one elbow. “No I don’t,” he gave her a mischievous smile. “And according to Henry, I already found them.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes twinkled with mischief, as she made an act of studying him carefully. “You do have my chin. And my hair.”

“And your undying optimism. Oh no, wait!”

They both laughed for a moment or two. “Yeah, maybe not that.”

Killian sighed and forced himself to leave the comfortable bed and the warmth of the loft. “I’m going to go see Henry.” He gave Mary Margaret a final smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Don’t stay out too late!” She called after him in a motherly tone.

/-/

Killian and Henry sat on the bench, drinking hot chocolate and talking about Ava and Nicholas, when the sound of an approaching motorcycle made them both tilt their heads in confusion.

“I don’t recall anyone having a motorcycle in town… Henry?”

Henry shook his head in confirmation of his thoughts. “This is weird. No strangers come into town.”

As the bike came closer, Killian’s blood ran cold. He’d seen that motorcycle before, and worse - he thought he knew the man who sat astride it, his face hidden behind that helmet. His heart stopped and his worst suspicions were confirmed the moment the bike slowed to a stop in front of them.

“That is no stranger, lad,” Killian said as he stood up from the bench and pushed Henry behind him.

As he feared, as the man lifted the helmet off he found the familiar face of a brown haired man with blue eyes staring at him.

“Killian,” the man started but Killian didn’t let him finish, taking two steps and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What in the blazes are you doing here, August?”

#cs ff #lenfaz fics #time upon once #captain swan #canon divergence

65 notes · View notes

illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 15

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Rhys and Feyre heal their relationship and confide in each other about their feelings towards each other. Sleeping under the stars may or may not be a thing that happens. :)

Chapter 15

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s cold out here?”

Rhys didn’t look at me when he spoke. Just kept his attention peacefully fixed on the skies above. “Hasn’t anyone told you you’re a smartass?”

“A smartass who comes offering warmth.” I shook the sleeping bags so that they crinkled audibly. Rhys held out his hand, not getting up.

“What - you want to stay?” He nodded. “Out here? I think the tent would at least be warmer.”

Rhys chuckled darkly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d just invited me to bed with you, Feyre darling.”

“Please. You know what I meant.”

“Haven’t you ever slept beneath the stars, Feyre?”

Again, he held out his hand daring me to scoff one more time and I knew he’d stay out here all night if it meant he could still be a gentleman. A stupid prick of a gentlemen, undoubtedly. But a gentlemen nonetheless.

I tossed him Mor’s sleeping bag and laid mine next to him. I tried to hand him the spare pillow I’d brought, but he shoved it back at me gesturing to his own. “You don’t want it?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Besides, I figure you could use your beauty rest.”

We settled into our adjoining nests and then found ourselves with nothing but the nature of the lake surrounding us. The sky was mercilessly clear of clouds allowing the stars to shine hotly above us. Up here, tucked high away in the mountains, the smog of the city wasn’t so horrible and you could actually see the stars with some decency, connect them with your fingers to trace constellations and stories that lasted millennia. It was a real shame, I thought, looking up at that gorgeous expanse how often we missed it below the mountain where we trapped ourselves, to deny ourselves such an ethereal beauty on a daily basis seemed a crime. I could have gotten lost in it forever.

“I told you it was worth it,” Rhys said quietly next to me. I watched his breath come out white, dancing on the air as he spoke.

“Technically, all you did was ask a question that implied it was worth it, but you didn’t actually say it, so…”

“Do you also remember me calling you a smartass because that one definitely wasn’t implied.”

“Mmm.” I hummed low in my throat repressing the urge to throw the first insult I could think of at him, however ridiculous it might be. “Fine, you’re right.”

“Come again? I didn’t quite hear you. Neither did my phone. Give me a second to get it out so I can record you-”

“Prick.”

“Ah,” Rhys said, giving more weight to his next words. “So we’re back to that again. I call you darling and you call me prick and we pretend it all means… what exactly?”

Finally, taking courage from the little silver and blue embers burning billions of miles away against that dark ripple of velvet, I rolled my head to the side. Rhys was already watching me keeping a tight check on his emotions to see what I would do.

And it was odd then how in that moment alone when I could barely see him, when he was swathed in robes of darkness that shadowed his face, cast shadows around his body that swept beyond his back like the promise of wings and adventure, huddled in a small dingy bed of fabric that striped away the pressed shirts and polished shoes embodying a formality and a regalness only he ever found the power to invoke, that I discovered he had never been more handsome.

And I wondered if I hadn’t said what I’d said to him not because I thought he could never want me in all the ways I fast learned that I craved him, but because I was too scared of the possibility that he would want me like that, want me the way no one else in my life had.

“Feyre?” His voice was a soft, rich velvet to match the sky. “What… do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I texted you a thousand times, but Rhys - I want you to know I’m sorry and that those things I said, they had far more to do with me than anything you could have ever done. You’re perfect.”

“Ha,” he snorted with some degree of derision. “I am far from perfect and I deserved what you said. I haven’t exactly been fair to you. I told you once that I wasn’t snooping about just to get in your pants and I meant it, but that doesn’t justify the way I’ve thrown myself at your feet like a lap dog for the past several weeks - since I met you, honestly.”

Now it was my turn to adopt the derisive tone. “You weren’t exactly alone, you know. I flirted back. I showed up at your door every time I caved under pressure for whatever absurd excuse I’d concocted for why I couldn’t just deal with my own baggage. I’m… I’m the one who asked you to touch me in the cafe to make someone jealous.”

The last admission was almost physically painful. To me, it was the final nail in the coffin, a low blow that I didn’t envision he could move past, especially not when I’d called him a cowardly mess right afterwards for helping me.

“You can say that you flirted and teased and pushed too much all you want, but I’m just as much to blame, Rhys. I’m just as big of a - a mess.”

Rhys physically moved his entire body onto one side now so that he was completely facing me. His brow furrowed sharply. “You are not a mess, Feyre. You are beautiful and you are intelligent and you are capable and every single one of those is far from a mess.”

“How can you say that,” I stopped to swallow my hesitations rising in my throat like a bed of thorns that would choke me down, “after how horribly I’ve treated you - used you in my feeble attempts to run away from life - when I could say the same thing about you and know that you’d never believe me?”

The cold, white smoke that left him as he released his breath was more like a strangled gasp in his chest that shuddered to get out, fear or doubt the only things keeping it from escaping.

“Two years ago, there was a party over spring break. My sister was seeing this guy who was going to be at the party and she begged me to take her. She was only a freshmen, just a year younger than me and I knew our parents would kill her if I let her go - kill both of us if either of us went.”

I shifted onto my side the same way Rhys laid to better listen. His voice became deeper and more twisted with pain the further on he went.

“I was only a sophomore. I had no idea what I was doing except that I thought I was being a good big brother keeping her home and not telling our parents, but she snuck out after we’d gone to bed.”

Rhys stopped talking. It was dark, but I could feel his muscles straining, his voice struggling to get out and admit what I knew he was leading up to. Only one thing had ever made him sound so sorrowful before, so haunted.

“My mom got a call in the middle of the night from her,” he said, his voice near to shaking. “She was drunk and out of her mind and couldn’t find her boyfriend or anyone that she knew. I was asleep. Dad only told me later after everything happened about the call. He’d wanted to be the one to go and get her, but mom insisted she do it. My sister had called her after all. Her and dad had never quite clicked the way she did with mom.

“The hospital called us an hour later. My sister had found her keys and gotten in the car. She was about to drive off when her boyfriend caught up her. She wouldn’t get out, so he got in and my sister took off and when he tried to get her to slow down, she barreled through a red light and hit a car - mom’s car. She’d been drinking.”

My body went still as death as I listened. How he wasn’t crying, how he could even get the words out…

“You run away from your problems, Feyre, by flirting back with me. But you didn’t cause any of your problems. The world around you treated you like dirt. And you’re overcoming and I’m so proud of you. But me? I - ah….”

His breath hitched and a dry sob heaved out of his chest. On instinct, I drew myself closer to him and nestled my fingers in his hair, rubbing soothing circles over his brow with my thumb to calm him. “Sh…” I said. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I am a mess, Feyre. That’s why I stayed away the past week. You hit it right on the money whether you meant to or not. I created my monsters and came chasing after you when I knew you were off limits. I could have told my parents about the party and that would have been enough to keep my sister home. She would have listened. She knew where the lines were when it came to their rules, but I told her I wouldn’t snitch if she’d just stay in and she left. It’s my fault she died. Her and mom both.”

“No, no, no, no, no - Rhysand.” I couldn’t believe he saw it that way, that he could think so horribly of himself.

But you were a little… shall we say intense in the kitchen and I don’t know if that beer was intended to be your first or your twentieth.

I’m not drunk.

Just go home and if anything happens on the way home, you can call me and I’ll help you, okay?

The words came back to me with startling clarity, shattering through me with a fresh understanding that brought pain and so much empathy along with it. “That’s why you insisted I have your number,” I said. “The night of Lucien’s party when you took the beer away from me? It was because of your sister, wasn’t it.”

Slowly, closing his eyes to fight against the tears I could feel beneath my thumb as I stroked across his face, he nodded.

“Rhysand,” and I said his name with such surety, that his eyes snapped open at the sound. “What you did was not monstrous or damning. It was human. You did right by all of your family, then and now. And if you don’t believe me, you really only have to look at your friends to see how you’ve taken care of them - taken care of me. Your sister, your mom - it wasn’t your fault.”

He reached up to hold my hand and our heads pressed forward until they were touching. I nuzzled against him, back and forth, soft and soothing as the night. “You are extraordinary, no more a mess than I or anyone else.”

Beneath me, his skin was warm to the touch. I ran my fingers down his neck and pressed small circles along his shoulders. He never let go of me once.

“Feyre…” he said, my name trembling off his lips.

I unzipped my sleeping bag and found that his had never been zipped up in the first place. Our arms wound together until we were pressed chest to chest and he was huddling in my arms. I inhaled and the rich mix of citrus and jasmine that came off him, melting me to my core. It no longer felt it right to question what we were or could become, to doubt his affection for me. So I didn’t hold back in clinging to him, reaching lower on his abdomen until I found bare skin beneath his shirt to rest on and continue to rub gentle, healing touches to.

His arm snaked under me. My head came to rest at the crook of his shoulder. He peered down at me and held my face in his delicate hands.

“I find I very much want to kiss you right now,” he said. Save for my heart beating rapidly in my chest, I didn’t dare move.

“So what’s stopping you?”

A small, cruel feline smirk graced his lips. “I fear that if I started, I would never stop. And I’m not sure I’d like my first kiss with you to come after I’ve become such an unraveled mess.”

“That’s okay. We can settle for other kisses.” I tilted up as much as I could until I could reach him and pressed a hot, lingering kiss on his jaw and felt him quake against me. “But do please explain why you would deny a willing woman in your arms the simple pleasure of kissing you on a night such as this.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, a movement I rejoiced in feeling. “Cruel, wicked creature.”

“I liked it better when you called me beautiful, intelligent, and capable,” I purred and pressed another kiss further along his jaw, continuing the trail lazily down his neck, one slow and throbbing kiss at a time.

“I want to start over,” Rhys said while my lips journeyed across him. “I want to earn your trust again.”

“You already have my trust - obviously.” The words were mumbled into his skin. Rhys snatched my chin in his hands and gently tugged until I was forced to break away and look at him.

“I want to kiss you far away from anyone else,” he said. “Not somewhere where I can hear my brother snoring one tent over or where my cousin might intentionally intrude. I want to take you somewhere and make you laugh and smile like you did when you realized you were one of us this weekend. I want to kiss you not simply because the opportunity to do so is there, but because you deserve to be kissed romantically, impossibly, passionately - to the point of not even knowing who you are or where you stand without it.”

My blood raced for him, the only thing greater than my desire to take him now the need to see his promise fulfilled and all that it might entail.

“Do I get a sneak preview or…?”

Rhys barked with laughter, heedless of the night and passengers unknown who might be trying to wrestle with dreams and sleep. “Greedy,” he whispered nearing his head towards mine. His nose scrunched up mischievously as he spoke.

“With good reason.”

Another ghost of a laugh and then, and then… his breath was hot as it filled my skin. His nose scraped lightly down my cheek as he deeply took in the scent of me and whispered my name with a sultriness that could have melted the sun. “Feyre…” His lips touched down right at the corner of my mouth, so close and yet unbearably not close enough. I could have moved just a fraction of an inch and caught him, let him taste me and cash in on that promise early, but I paused letting him take his feel of me as his lips rested moist and loving on my skin.

We wrapped ourselves in each other for the rest of the night, falling asleep under the stars pressed as tightly together as we could fit. It was then I learned what real dreams were made of.

I had never slept so soundly in my life.

We got back early Sunday afternoon after a rematch of who could tear down their tent the fastest. Azriel won - again, but this time both he and Mor looked pretty smug about it.

I had homework to do and probably could have done with a good shower, but I wasted no time after checking in with dad in going to the hardware store and picking up paint. Dad went with me and helped me settle on just the right shades of violet, black, and blue.

I spent the rest of the afternoon locked away in my attic, homework and responsibilities be damned, and I painted and painted and painted until I saw nothing but endless, eternal night full of stars on every wall.

#myfic #beneath the stars #beneath the stars: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction

45 notes · View notes

conundrumkrp-blog · 7 years

Photo

“I love animals—they’re not as trashy as humans are.”

CANON: Peach FACE CLAIM NAME: Ji Chang Wook, Actor AGE: 29

BIOGRAPHY.

He was born from a toxic bond between man and woman. He was a boy who was tied to a broken couple that had him due to their mistakes.

He never really understood it at first—accepting how his family was because that was how it had been for him for the longest time. Their insults towards him were met with blank faces and their lack of physical affection was something he was accustomed too.

The only one who would give him what a normal parent would was the Labrador Retriever that his mother owned. The dog would always be there for him from the moment he was born—looking after him and letting him play around with it. The boy would grow to only love it and not his parents. He would grow to be uncaring of his parents but loving animals with a passion.

ii.

His mother would bring him to school in a scandalous attire, his father would bring him to school with a rough hold on him, and Lizzy the Labrador Retriever would always be the one who warmly sends him off with a soft nudge and warm gestures.

He didn’t really give much of a thought about the other parents who would give offended, disgusted or scared looks at them when they saw his parents treat him as such. Nor did he really give much of a damn when they kindly offered company or help or the like. He just merely gives them a small, polite smile—much too mature for someone of his age—and tell them it was alright.

His nature which was unlike the norm attracted the other children. Some children had been encouraged by their parents to talk to him, whilst other children were told to stay away. He didn’t care, of course, but to those who had decided to converse with him found themselves charmed. They felt like the boy would bring them somewhere different—and a child’s curiosity was a strong motivation for many of their choices.

iii.

He started to create circles, started to find himself to know everyone just as everyone knew him, started to build connections and use it to his advantage. It wasn’t done with any purpose, per se, he just didn’t really have any much thing to do. He didn’t even try to sink himself deep into everyone’s mind, only enough to make himself somewhere in the fine line between acquaintances and friends.

His life within the confines of his home was still very much the same, though. Mother goes off with her boys and father goes off to waste away money and himself. He’d be alone in his home with Lizzy as his only company and will never invite anyone to home.

Lizzy is getting older but she still gave him warmth and love and care. He found himself hold onto her like she was his mother. He would walk her out frequently and come across other animals and want to interact with them. Most times, there would be someone who was holding leashes to their pets and would notice his shining eyes on the animals. They’d let him touch their pets and talk about it. He would reveal his undying love for Lizzy and one time the stranger told him how if he truly loved animals he should help them out.

That would be the seed that shall bloom into the desires of needing to help out all animals in a way—and with that flower, he shall bear a fruit in the form of a charity.

iv.

With the bonds he made and a new passion, he tried to pursue a dream. He never had one before, all he had before was love for Lizzy and animals like her and a tendency to add more contacts in his list as if it was a game.

He learned more about animals and will make speeches to preach about why animals mattered to his classmates—or anyone he met in all honesty. He would entrance others and take their attention as he attempted to make people care much more about animals ( and by that, he meant that all animals mattered—not only the pets they lived closely to ).

When chances came by in the form of field trips or projects that let him help out the creatures—he’d take it and never waste the opportunity. At presentations and more, he’d explain with expertise like that of a professional business man to prove his points and a reason to back up all his purposes. His teachers had been greatly surprised by his enthusiasm when it came to such moments and had also been highly praised by them.

And it was as if he was morphing himself to be someone better—his eyes shone more and some of the people he did connect with had become close friends. Everything is changing for a better—

Until everything just decided to go for the worse.

Lizzy died. That wasn’t the reason his inner turmoil was such a pandemonium, though, it was because of how she died that made him want to scream and leave his home and just not associate himself with such treacherous people anymore.

Lizzy was expected to die when he was thirteen at most, he was aware of that. He knew she’d die and he knew he would never be ready for it. But what he did not expect was his father horribly abusing the dog to the point of death one day in his intoxicated state.

He had remembered that day he returned home from school alone without anyone accompanying him ( as school was close and his parents really could care less ). There had been no problems until he reached his house and started to hear the sound of broken plates and something being thrown against another. The sound of destruction made him panic and he hastily entered his house ( with its door unlocked ) and searched for the source of discord.

What he saw had haunted him forever. The sight of Lizzy with shards of plates on her body and already too lifeless to make a sound ( and could she even make a sound anymore? with the tape that was haphazardly put to shut her up ). His father continuously beating the poor labrador retriever and shouting strings of swears as he mutilated the dog even more.

His bloodcurdling scream was loud enough for his father—no, the horrid being— to focus its attention on him. It had terrified him, especially as it started to head to him with its wobbly way of walking. He ran as if his life depended on it and tried to survive. It was fortunate for him to have come across one of the people he made acquaintances with—who took him in and listened to him as he broke down. It wasn’t too long after until the police gained a report of animal abuse.

vi.

He grew to hate people.

Even though he knew and met people who were kind and were not like his father—he was aware that anyone was capable of such. He couldn’t help but be wary of others and set up distances between him and others.

For a long time, he couldn’t bear to look at Labrador Retrievers without remembering Lizzy. It pained him eery time and always made him feel unbridled hate towards his father extend to people who weren’t even involved.

But he is logical and never so influenced by emotions. He moves on but would always remember how cruel people could be. He would never be able to look at anything the same and that would be what fuels his briefly forgotten dreams.

He’s protect these animals. He’d make sure that none of them would end up like Lizzy.

vii.

He created a charity with the purpose of helping out animals and giving them homes that would be cruelty-free. He would use his connections to create a safe haven for them and—when they managed to raise more money than usual—use it to teach others about the importance of animals and why they must help the creatures out.

He acted differently with humans and animals but people who worked with him and assisted him saw him as a respectable, but distant, figure.

His life returns to its peaceful track after that event. Until one day, Mr. Yang ( a regular donator of his charity ) decided to donate an even larger amount of money than usual to his charity. It grew even odder as word of the man putting the charity into his will reached his ears.

But the true turning point would be the letter that he received to be invited to Mr. Yang’s mansion. It was curiosity at it’s finest and he had to admit he wanted to know why Mr. Yang did what he did.

So, he decided to join in the event. After all, what could go wrong?

( And the voice of his paranoia which was muffled by his curiosity would say: ‘Many things that could be as horrid as that day of Lizzy’s death.’ )

PERSONALITY.

Articulate and diplomatic, his way with words would make it easy for him to manipulate others. Not that he did, though, rather, he used it to make people realize the importance of animals’ lives. He also used it to gain connections which would prove to be useful for him in the future. A social butterfly who did not necessarily try to be friends but someone who one could see as a valuable ally if need be.

Aloof was he, despite how he talked with ease and have many people in his contact’s list. It was due to how circumspect he was of people after the death of Lizzy. He would always have the habit of looking at everyone with scrutinizing eyes as he tried to analyze them and see whether they would be as horrible as his father or not.

Towards animals, though, one would be able to see warm smiles and gentle touches. A seraphic man towards the creatures and with ambitions and determination that would overthrow others in the need to protect them. He was vehement about his love and passion for them and will make sure that they will be protected at all costs.

#cn: accepted #canon: peach

1 note · View note

paultys · 7 years

Text

Before I continue from where I left off, I want to present a snippet of why I love this Island. Driving the children to school this morning, the sun is shining, but Charlie has just annoyed me to the point of shouting. As I drive I’m fuming, we sit silently in the car, the boys afraid to make noise for fear of re-awakening my wrath! We pass an elderly gentleman and with a piece of paper he flags me down. “Are you going to town” he asks, “yes, do you need a lift?” was my reply I have given more lifts to strangers in the past three years than the rest of my life put together. “No” he says, “but could you please deliver this letter to Sure (the Island’s telecom providers), it’s very important”. “Of course I can, no problem sir”, and with that a complete stranger trusts me with an important letter, and instantly lifts my moods and brightens my day.

I appologised to the boys for losing my temper, whilst re-iterating that they can’t leave their shoes in the rain all night, we cuddle, I tell them I love them and they walk into school happy, all friends again. Magic.

So back to the main story, after my last blog, things went from unusual (for St Helena) to damn right weird. A passing adventure cruise ship, fresh from taking bird watchers to the Antarctic is passing St Helena and agrees to call in to take approximately ten stranded, and urgent passengers to Ascension Island and beyond to Cape Verde, where they can then catch a flight to the UK. Crazy I know, but if you need to get off the Island, at this point in time, it’s your only option.

For me this was not a strait forward option, it gave me two days’ notice and may of cost a lot of money. After checking with my new boss, I decide to wait in hope the RMS is fixed, and I can travel on the 17th May, arriving just two weeks late for work. For friends of our however this was not an option, with their passports expiring they were not able to travel through South Africa, and Ascension was their only option. But as I explained, Ascension Island runway is now also closed, so the MV Plancius, leaving in two days became their only option to get off the Island. With the ship boarding at 11am, Frankie and Dean Gonsalves were still rushing round town, trying to speak to one government official after another to get emergency documents sorted to allow them to travel. With the children in tow and the sun reaching its mid-day peak I offered my hand and took their children for toasties and slushes in the park, a welcome relief to the stressed parents.

Eventually the documents come through and after a now third goodbye I saw off some of my best friends on the Island, not sure when I would see them again. They travelled for two days before arriving on Ascension Island, and with a few hours stop over headed to English Bay, a stunning white sand beach with clear blue waters. Now at this stage some of you probably know what’s coming next, yes that’s right, my friends were attacked by a shark. Are you f**king kidding me, you can’t make this up. As Bev and I are enjoying a wonderful wedding on the Island news comes through that our friend Frankie has been attacked by a shark, and although is alive and safe, will face months of surgery and rehabilitation as her Achilles tendon and other parts of her ankle have been torn to pieces. By all accounts Dean was something of a hero, punching said shark in the face repeatedly to get it to leave his wife alone, before fending it off from himself. Two other people worthy of a mention are Paul and Craig Scipio who selflessly ran to their aid pulling the couple from the water and administering essential initial first aid.

The children, thankfully not in the water, witnessed the whole thing and were understandably in pieces. The news left us all on the Island shocked and worried. With Frankie stable and in good care, she awaited an emergency flight to the UK (one way to get home quicker) whilst Dean and the children were dumped back on the Plancius to spend another ten nights at sea away from their injured wife and Mum.

Happily I can report that Frankie is doing well, operations have gone well and I’m sure she will be back with us before long, already able to laugh and joke about the events. The children and Dean remarkably got back in the sea at Cape Verde, something I think is pretty incredible. For us it was difficult, not only the trauma of getting trickles of information about friends in a very serious situation, but, having spent most of our lives as Marine Biologist peddling stories of how sharks are not dangerous and the oceans are safe and sharks should be protected, one of our closest friend’s bloody well gets attacked by one. It’s important to present some background though. For some time now Galapagos sharks have been encroaching on the island, encouraged by the discard’s of fishermen thrown freely into the shallow waters. These sharks have not only begun to relinquish their fear of man, but are actively seeking out shallow waters with people around, associating the situation with food. The Ascension Island government must make some changes. Although not a tourist destination, the two swimmable beaches on the Island are very very popular with the locals on the Island and those passing through, who now would risk swimming in their clear blue waters.

Back on St Helena the fall out for me was somewhat intense as the worlds media did their best to find out what is going on. A quick search on Frankie’s Facebook page reveals a photo of her swimming with a whale shark, taken of course by yours truly. This led to five national UK papers phoning me directly trying to get more information. Sticking to the facts as I knew them and correcting some inaccuracies it was a delicate situation. My friends still separated as Dean and the family travelled by sea, the extent of Frankie’s injuries not clearly known, and not wishing to upset anyone I told them as little as I could get away with and bided them a polite goodbye.

The photo itself though did appear in several national newspapers. One would never ever wish for anyone they care for to be injured in this way, but it’s a pretty cool photo and seeing it in the national press I must admit is exciting!

Now, at two pages long already I should probably stop writing before boring you all to death, but if you’re with me so far I shall continue. Set as I was to leave on the 27th of April, our personal belongings were boxed and packed into shipping containers the week prior, on the 20th April ready for their long journey back to the UK on the MV Helena (the replacement cargo vessel commissioned to ensure supplies to the Island) . Now with over a month left on the Island, and Bev and the boys even longer we had no option but to move into someone else’s house, a family, who were on leave and would be off the Island, whom perhaps had young children with toy for the boys. Whom could that be, yep, that’s right, Frankie and Deans house! And so it was that we left our lovely home in Alarm Forest and crossed the Island to Cleughs plain with just a suitcase each to last the next three months! The local news outlets were keeping us informed about how passengers, now stranded in Cape Town might get home and how in turn, those here might be able to leave. A plane, no plane, the Queen Elizabeth cruise ship, no Queen Elizabeth Cruise ship, RMS on schedule, RMS needs more work, the stories and rumours went back and forth like a yo yo. Eventually confirmed, news from SHG that a plane had been commissioned to fly people, now stuck in Cape Town for, in some cases 6 weeks, home to St Helena. So finally I had a confirmed route back to the UK that would get me to work on time.

I e-mailed the given address and was assured my name was on the list and more information would be provided when available. Waiting and waiting it was 2.30pm, the day before the flight before I phoned up Solomon’s Shipping office who were dealing with bookings. “Hi there, its Paul Tyson here, I think I’m on the flight, but Ive not heard anything more can you provide some information. What time will we depart, what time do we arrive, do I have a ticket, where do I get my ticket from, hat is the baggage allowance?” My question went on and the response was a rather despondent “I’m sorry Sir, I don’t have any information to provide you, we haven’t been told anything yet”. I asked if I was still booked onto the 17th May RMS voyage, and had it confirmed I was, with that I asked them to call me as soon as any information is forthcoming. As I sit here now, the plane has been and gone and I still haven’t received that phone call. But never mind, my passage on the RMS is booked, the ship is repaired, has reached St Helena and is currently steaming towards Ascension Island.

I will arrive in the UK on the 24th May, ready to start work on the 29th. My sixth and final voyage on the RMS, a small piece of history of my own. In the meantime St Helena made its own history once more, as, only 12 months late, the first commercial passenger plane landed and departed on St Helena. The boys and I went to watch this historic event. For most parts of the world, a plane with 60 passengers landing is not big news, but for the Island this is massive. The airport heaved with people, family and friends and curious onlookers like myself. The airport, baggage handling, oversubscribed restaurant all ran perfectly, and for the first time the airport operated as it was intended. The excitement was palpable, and I am thrilled for all the staff and people involved in the project. We are still some months away from the airport operating properly, but at least we now know it can. Will we ever get to the bottom on who cocked up along the way, I doubt it, and does it matter? Well yes, but we can move on and the successful landing of RJ85 Avro flight takes everyone a step closer.

Crowds gather waiting for the plane to arrive.

The airport seen from Millenium Forest

The airport was heaving with excited friends and family.

Anyone wishing to read more about the airport and this historic day should take a look at Darrin and Sharon Henry’s terrific blog, What the Saints Did Next. Fantastic photography and writing.

So what’s with the title, “Packing it in”, obviously I have eluded to our personal belongings being packed away, but, set as I was to leave on the 27th April, the past three weeks have truly allowed me to pack it in, and my weeks have been nonstop fun. People are no asking me, “how many leaving do’s have you had Six!!” The undoubted highlight of which was an awesome party with our neighbours who put on a mini festival involving a swimming pool and bouncy castle, barbecue and cooking on a fire pit, lots of beer, a live band and a stunning sunset to boot. Oh what a night. A huge thanks to Hayley and Jamie Bridgewater for a memory lasting night.

Aside from hangovers I have also managed to start, at long last, playing golf. My game is not good, but improving, and with that I played my first (and last) Texas Scramble tournament, a doubles game where the use of whichever balls is hit best, allows for my way wood shots to be discounted! Alas my teammate Tina Johnson and I came last, or joint third as I prefer to call it, but it was a great day and was followed up with another barbecue and more drinking. There is a solid theme of the past few weeks and beer has been central to that theme, I shall have to re-asses my habits wen I’m back in the UK, but for now I’m on holiday and shall enjoy it!

I have also fitted in three post box walks. Post box walks are list of 21 walks, of varying difficulty across the Island that, at the end of the walk, have a post, containing a stamp, for you to mark ones guide book at the completion of each walk.

The first was a walk to Great Stone top, with friend Gordon Brodie. Gordon has not yet featured in my blog, which is strange as he has been something of an ever present. Cards, Golf, Snooker, drinking and barbeques all, inevitably are shared with my unique and characterful friend. Some (well he) would come him powerful, his friends affectionately tend to call him Gordie Bollocks, and I could tell you a hundred stories from our time here together, most of which involved beer and often the breaking of something or someone, or other inappropriate behaviors. But for now I’ll leave the stories to his company as a walking companion for the week!

Leaving the Bell Stone (an ancient phonolithic volcanic rock that rings like a bell when struck) we started out through forests of pine before the path opens out with spectacular views across Prosperous Bay and the airport. With another drinking engagement in the afternoon we soon made the decision to forego the full walk to Great Stone top and instead settled for its little brother, Little Stone Top! A pleasant walk with enough out of breath moments to make one feel as though they have done some work, but short enough to get back in time for a party we all enjoyed the views, the climbing and the company.

Gordon and his son William also joined us a few days later as we tackled Sharks Valley. A longer walk through a steep sided Gorge that falls deep into a ravine and opens out onto the rugged rocky coastline of the Atlantic Ocean. This was something more of a challenge as much of the walk traverses along very narrow loose paths across the steep sided rock face of the gorge with a precipitous drop below. Oliver in particular struggles with this, the combination of exposure and loose grit below his feet, understandably unnerving him. We edged along, hand in hand, for what felt like an eternity as his nerves undoubtedly rubbed off on me. Nut we made it, down to the sea where we were faced with what I personally can only describe as a shocking scene. Here we are, 800 miles from the nearest other land, 1400 miles from the nearest continent, on a rocky beach simply covered in the world trash. Rubbish, carried on the current for hundreds or thousands of miles and washed up on our isolated Island. You would struggle to find somewhere more remote than this beach, and yet Mans’ mark has been left. Humanities collective contempt for our planet never ceases to amaze me, and here it was laid out before me in the form of bottles, sandals, ropes nets and trash.

Next up was a tour with a difference as Arran Legg, of Arran 4×4 tours met us in the morning for an off road drive through the Islands off beaten tracks. We spent six enjoyable hours in the company of the very knowledgeable, and thankfully skilled Arran as we wound through hill and dale, across lush pasture land to dry deserts. The highlight of which for me was a lengthy, often unnerving, drive through Fishers Valley and to our picnic sight overlooking the airport.

This spot and track (if you can call it that) are only used by Arran himself, and the National Trust when monitoring the Islands endemic Wirebird population. It was as remote as it was stunningly beautiful. The recent rains have brought colour to this arid landscape. The feeling of isolation and privilege was wonderful. My mind wandered as I contemplated the huge amount of change this apparently static landscape has scene. Once the location of a huge woodland of endemic Gumwood trees (large Daisies that grow as trees!!) the landscape has been eaten bare by centuries of wild goats, brought to the Island by successive Portuguese ships as a food source for their long journey on the Indian trade routes. More recently of course, a valley has been filled in, and an airport has been built. The site of which will soon become normal, but at this stage still presents a somewhat surprising image of this concrete strip perched perilously on a bizarre, remote rock plateau miles from any other human habitation!

“One of the most challenging Post Box walks”. “Walking on St Helena is different and challenging…..confident and regular walkers from elsewhere in the world have found that they are not able to cope with the local terrain”. “For walks rated 5/10 and above it is important for walkers safety that they are accompanied by a knowledgeable guide”. Are the words I read once safely back in my car, AFTER, taking on the infamously named “The Barn”. I should of read that earlier!!

Perhaps the most notorious of walks on the Island with difficult path finding, vertiginous (I love that word, it mean vertigo inducing) drops and exposure, shear cliff and 300ft drops. No problem I thought, Ive spent many years scaling Peaks in Snowdonia, this will be fine, besides, Bev has done it before!!

As I crossed the first few fields and the sight of the Barn presented itself it crossed my mind that maybe, I shouldn’t of gone alone. But my ego, which has led me into many silly situations before, would not let me turn back and leave the Island having not “done the Barn”.

It stood out ahead of me, a massive dark formation of hard rock, eroded on all sides as the softer landscape around it has dropped into the sea after millions of years of South Atlantic winds batter the cliffs. The guidebook suggests that paths may be difficult to follow following heavy rains, “we’ve had a lot of that” I thought. But the start of the path was easy to find and I followed into onto the first early challenges, traversing a grey mud cliff and gorge where the 6 inch wide path had been often filled in with an angle of mud, or obscured by sharp gorse bushes, all the while accompanied by what turned out to be an almost ever present feeling of impending doom.

Looking back towards the crazy mud “path” that crossed the steep slope of mud!

One false step and you’re in serious trouble here mate. After crossing this first challenge the path reaches a wide broad ridge, welcome relief and impressive in its beauty, sharp edges eroded and crumbling in the wind and sands or orange, red and purple. The view stretched across Flagstaff Bay, looking towards Prosperous bay in all its glory.

“Maybe that’s the difficult bit over with” I thought but before long the knife edge “Knotty Ridge” was before me and a challenging scramble down to meet it ensured. Now I felt like Oliver as I tiptoed steadily down the slope, aware of the looseness of volcanic ash and gravel below my feet.

The guide book became a little unclear, do I follow the ridge, or traverse across its flank following the very obvious scar to the base of the Barn itself. “Follow the path Paul” were my reassuring words to myself. It wasn’t long before I thought I had made a mistake as in places the path was not a path, but a slope, upon which I gripped the mud above as I dug my toes in and edged across, foolishly looking between my legs to see the 300ft drop below me!! Others have done this walk with no problem, Bev included. Either I am not the mountain man I thought I was, or the paths have become seriously degraded and filled in as the regular rains have washed sand and mud down the slopes to smooth out contours.

After what felt like a very long time my drained and tense body found flatter ground on which to rest, take a sip of water and re-group. From a distance the next challenge looked to be the worst, but I know saw ahead of me some familiar territory. With renewed confidence I climbed upwards, with good hand holds and solid rock below my feet. I was now on the Barn itself and the loose gravel and sand that led me here has given way to solid volcanic rock, both secure and grippy. The narrow path, or complete absence of path no longer bothers me. This is proper climbing, this is my world.

As I topped out I expected to be nearing the top of the Barn and some flat ground, instead what greeted me took me aback. From a distance I have looked at the Barn and dismissed its scale, unaware of where the path goes and thinking much of the walk would be across its flat barren summit. What greeted me however was the enormous Eastern flank of the Barn and a small narrow path proceeding steadily and endlessly upwards. This was not a challenge of vertigo, or tip toeing, it was simply exhausting. After a leg draining time I reached the plateau of the Barn. Empty, beautiful, barren and yet full of life. Recent rains whilst eroding paths have enabled small plants such as the colourful Ice plant to thrive. Lichens and mosses, some of which are hundreds of years old cling to rocks and give away the secrets of some of the cleanest air in the World.

As I turn to the East, I am one of the first persons on the Island to witness the joyous return of the RMS St Helena, as she steamed past the airport. A poignant image of an old ship, the life line of the Island for some many years still pushing on (just) against the empty sad face of a false dawn. In a few days I shall be on the ship once more, I’m glad that I will leave the Island that way, its just somehow more fitting.

After stamping my book, eating a sandwich and having a drink I turned to face my return journey, quickly arriving at my nemesis, the traverse. I decide that this time I simply don’t want to try that again and instead, I look upwards and decide a risky scramble to the ridge is a better option. Again I was soon doubting my judgement as I took one slip backwards for every two steps forward. But I reached the ridge and scrambled for what I hoped would be solid rock. To my dismay, the first part of this knife edge ridge was crumbling, and it wasn’t long before I was once again clinging and edging inelegantly along. A rock gave way beneath my foot as I scrapped my arm and grabbed and very well placed Wild Mango tree to arrest my fall.

After a short while the ridge widened slightly, and more importantly became solid, I could stand up on it, arms out and balance along its top. A friendly Fairy Tern came to look at this strange creature that looked as though he wanted to fly, but who’s feet were firmly planted on the ground.

A scramble uphill, and an easier uphill traverse (uphill is always easier on dodgy ground) across those same muddy slopes led me back to my car, and to my relief I was able to sit down and read the pages I should of done earlier. “Walking on St Helena is dangerous and challenging…ignoring advice and attempting the more difficult walks (without a guide) is likely to result in unpleasant experiences and is dangerous” I should bloody say so!!!

PACKING IT ALL IN! Before I continue from where I left off, I want to present a snippet of why I love this Island.

#Airplane #Airport #Ascension #Barn #Bell Stone #Little Stone Top #Plane #RMS #Shark #Skarks Valley

0 notes